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Chapter Text

“Have you any idea how much damage that bulldozer would suffer if I just let it roll straight over you?” Mr Prosser sneered, standing silhouetted by the mourning sun beside the aforementioned bulldozer. Arthur paused, thinking for a moment as the wet mud soaked through his dressing gown and into his pyjamas.

“How much?”

“None at all.”

By a curious coincidence, “None at all” is exactly how much suspicion the ape-descendant Arthur Dent had that one of his closest friends was n#t descen8e8 fr0/ an 47e, 9ut was 1” fa67~#t32%&-+?\¬

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Critical guide memory error detected

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Temporal interference detected

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Guide memory banks rebooted

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By a curious coincidence, “None at all” is exactly how much suspicion the ape-descendant Arthur Dent had that a someone who was less ape-descended and more loom-woven is shortly about to materialise from thin air in a large blue police box approximately a half dozen yards from where his house is currently being threatened by a bright yellow demolition vehicle.

A groaning, creaking sound suddenly filled the air. The wind blew strongly, ruffling through Arthur’s hair and tossing Prosser’s hardhat from his balding dome to land in the mud with the same sound made by a ping pong ball dropped from a height into a chocolate mousse. Squinting against the breeze, Arthur could barely make out the shape of a festival lavatory with a glowing beacon at its apex, throbbing with light and sound like an epilepsy inducing tube train taking a sharp corner. The wind ceased, less abruptly than it had begun, and silence fell across the little cruddy village - I mean country village of Cottington. With a creak that would make a WD-40 salesman weep for joy, one of the doors opened and out stepped the Doctor, with wild grey hair, a black suit jacket over a grey hoodie, and more pairs of sunglasses than was appropriate for an English autumn day. That was unusual, Arthur thought, usually festival lavatories only had one door.

“Excuse me sir!” Mr Prosser called over to his most recent trespasser. “Excuse me, but this is an active work site! I’m going to have to ask you to move your, uh, box.”

“An active work site? That’s a first for me,” the stranger replied with a Scottish accent and a gleeful grin, “I’ve never been to a work site that wasn’t on a lunch break. Or covering up an alien invasion.” Ignoring Prosser’s protests, the Doctor walked over to where Arthur was lounging in the mud. “Hold on, this man isn’t working! And since when was a dressing gown health and safety compliant, you better get him a reflective jacket!” They gesticulated at Arthur as they spoke. Prosser stared at the Doctor with a confused and somewhat intimidated expression on him.

“Sorry, but who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor, health and safety demolitions department.” They held out a thin leather wallet to Prosser who took one look at it before turning paler than a bleached snowdrift.

“I’m very sorry sir! If I’d known the Chief of the Health and Safety Executive was going to be here I would have removed this trespasser from the premises sooner!”

“Chief eh?” the Doctor said to themself, “Well, he’s here so you better get that jacket.”

“But sir, he’s-”

“Not wearing a reflective jacket, no.”

“But what about-”

“Reflective jacket! Now!” And the Doctor’s eyebrows arched. With that Prosser scurried away from them, in search of the nearest hi-vis jacket. Watching him go for a moment, the Doctor reached down to where Arthur was lying. “Come on Arthur, we’ve got to go.”

“But they’re going to destroy my home! And how do you know my name?”

“They’re going to destroy it regardless of whether or not you're lying in a muddy puddle, so come on!” they responded brisky, ignoring the second question. “But how do you know about that ?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Arthur replied with enough sarcasm to strangle a horse, “I think the large yellow bulldozer by my front door might have been a hint. Or perhaps the very rude council member with a demolition order!”

“What? Oh! Your house! Don’t worry about it, they probably won’t have time to do that.”

“Won’t have time? Won’t have time to demolish my house? Why!? And why should I believe you, you’re with him aren’t you?”

“With him? No, I never work with council members, I’m allergic, they bring me out in hives. But you do need to come with me now and I can explain everything later.” With this the Doctor grabbed Arthur’s arm and with surprising strength for someone of their apparent age, pulled him up out of the mud. He thought to resist for a moment, but now stood up once again he suddenly felt far too hungover from the night before to put up any sort of a fight, so allowed himself to be walked towards the portable lavatory.

“Hang on, where are you taking me? And what is this box thing? It looks like something you might get stuck in whilst pissing drunk at the Edinburgh Fringe.”

“Pissing drunk at the Edinburgh Fringe? Box thing? Don’t listen to him old girl,” they stroked the TARDIS’ blue paintwork, “this isn’t a portaloo, it’s a very complicated and powerful space time machine! Now come on in here!”

“A what machine? Now hang on, it’s going to be very tightly packed in there-”

“Oh, you’d be surprised, now get in before your home is destroyed!”

“I thought you said- ooarh!” Arthur cried out, as he saw through the partially open door.

The TARDIS, which stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space, is a Type-40 Time Travel Capsule designed to take the user to anywhere or anywhen in the known or unknown Universe. It is also capable of disguising itself upon landing, it is sentient, and it is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside much like the pockets of womens’ trousers aren’t.

“But it’s… there’s… it’s a lot cleaner than a portaloo.” Arthur eventually managed, as he stepped across the threshold.

“I’m sorry? You find yourself inside a living machine that is bigger on the inside and can travel through time and space but all you can say is that it’s cleaner than a portaloo!?” the Doctor retorted indignantly, hurrying in behind Arthur and closing the door. “I’m beginning to regret rescuing you.”

“Rescuing? Rescuing from what?”

“I told you. Your home is about to be destroyed.”

“Yes I know, my house-”

“No, not your house. Your home. The Earth.”

Chapter Text

Arthur swallowed loudly and stared at the Doctor in disbelief for a second. “But… the Earth can’t be destroyed!? The tension between the Americans and the Russians is going down, there’s no major earthquake activity, and we’d know by now if we were about to be hit by an asteroid, wouldn’t we?” The Doctor let out a grim chuckle but otherwise did not look up at Arthur, instead continuing to hurry around the TARDIS console, flicking leavers and pressing buttons like a toddler allowed to operate heavy machinery. Arthur could hear that grating sound he’d heard when the Doctor had first arrived again and the floor seemed to be less stable than earlier, but he was still too busy trying to wrap his head around where he was and what the Doctor was saying to take any particular notice of these things.

“Typical pudding brains, you always expect your destruction to be something you know about and understand, like climate change or nuclear war.” They finally made eye contact with Arthur, grey-blue pupils topped by steely brows that made him shudder slightly. “But you will never be prepared to believe that it could be the result of aliens.”

“Uh, could you say that again. I’m sorry, but I could have sworn you just said aliens.”

“Exactly!”

“There’s no way aliens could exist, at least not anywhere near the Earth, we’d know about them.”

“But you do know about them! You just don’t let yourself understand! Remember the plastic people from Auto Plastics?”

“Wasn’t that a publicity stunt that went wrong?”

“And the robot yetis on the London Underground.”

“But I read in the paper that was some sort of protest that got out of hand!”

“And the whole Magaret Thatcher incident.”

“The what?”

“Oh, too early for that nevermind, spoilers. Forget I said anything. The point is, aliens have been right under your noses the whole time, and you’ve never allowed yourself to believe that’s what they are! Human stupidity: it’s a super-power.” With this the Doctor pulled the largest leaver on the console, and with a loud thunk the sounds and swaying of the TARDIS stopped. Arthur tripped over at the suddenness of the standstill and was sent sprawling onto the floor.

“Aah! What just happened?”

“We’ve arrived.” The Doctor answered, cryptically, before walking over to the TARDIS doors and throwing them wide.

On Earth, there is an expectation that when you walk into a room, unless that room has wheels or large engines attached, that upon exiting the room you will be in roughly the same location as you were when you entered. As such, what Arthur is expecting to see through the doors is the glow of the morning sun, a large yellow bulldozer, and, hopefully, his house. It is much to his surprise therefore, that he is instead met by a rather different view. In place of the bulldozer and house there is a large metal room with walls covered in pipes and rivets, and in place of the beautiful morning sunlight his eyes are met by a dingy synthetic lighting, the sort favoured by budget sci-fi film directors, haunted house constructors, and the architects for secondary school sports halls.

“Where are we!? This isn’t Cottington! Where’s my house?”

“No of course this isn’t Cottington, but don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly safe here.”

“Oh, really? Where is here?” Arthur looked up at the Doctor sceptically as he pulled himself to his feet.

“We’re onboard one of the alien spaceships preparing to destroy your planet.”

“Ah, this is obviously some strange use of the word safe that I wasn't previously aware of.” The Doctor pressed a small button on the rim of the sunglasses they were still wearing.

“If I’ve got my timings right, and with me being me I obviously have, we have less than fifteen minutes until the Earth is destroyed. So right now this is in fact the safest place in your star system.

“isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Yes, I got you.”

“But what about the rest of the planet? What about my house! Uh, and all the people!”

“Oh, don’t worry about them, they’ll be fine.”

“But you said the Earth is going to be destroyed!”

“It is, but it’s going to survive.”

“I’m sorry, but when I was very young I remember being taught by my mother after breaking her favourite vase that surviving and being destroyed were not compatible states. I suppose you’re going to tell me now that that’s not the case?” Arthur rambled irately.

“Not in this instance.”

“Oh of course not.” He said, deflating with the tired weariness of someone who’s been proved wrong one too many times this morning and has consigned himself to being corrected for the rest of the day.

“Due to the quantum superposition of the Earth’s ferromagnetic core in relation to the ultra-baryonic reactor of this ship's hyperdrive, it has been multidimensionally unlinked from itself as per Schrodinger’s second principle allowing it to persist in two parallel coexistent timelines that will recollapse into themselves and create a single stable timeline after the destruction of one Earth due to the sudden removal of the gravitational field.”

“Ah. Ok. I think I understood some of those words. Like ‘due’. And ‘Earth’.”

“Don’t worry yourself about it, you’re only human.”

“Ha, and you’re not?” he joked.

“Well, therein lies a story.”

“But then why did you rescue me then? If the Earth is going to survive anyway?” Arthur asked, lacking the energy to pry into the Doctor’s suspicious answer at that particular moment.

“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself.”

“What? You don’t know why you’ve- eugh! What’s this!?” Arthur exclaimed as he stepped out of the TARDIS and immediately put his foot into something squishy and unpleasantly moist. Looking down he could make out in the dim light a large roughly rectangular thing, that appeared to be made of sodden fabric.

“It’s a mattress, looks like it’s not been dried out properly.”

“Why is there a mattress on a spaceship?”

“Same reason there’s one in your house.”

“But why is it just on the floor in a random room?”

“This is one of the sleeping quarters, judging by that sign.”

“Sign? But I can’t read- Oh. It’s in English!”

“No it’s not. It’s in Vogon, the TARDIS is translating for you.”

“Vogon? TARDIS? I’m sorry but you’re going to have to slow down. It’s been a long day for me and I’ve only just had breakfast.”

“The TARDIS is my ship. It’s a time machine.”

“Ah. Yes. You said.”

“And the Vogons are, well, I think you’re about to meet them.” In the distance, footsteps marched closer.

“Wait, so I’m about to meet an alien!?”

“Several aliens, judging by the footsteps, yes. Just don’t ask them about poetry.”

“Why?”

It is well known throughout the Universe that Vogon poetry is the third worst in existence. The Doctor has had the displeasure and misfortune of hearing it first hand on multiple occasions and is not keen to hear it again. However, they are unable to explain this fact to Arthur due to the fact that the door to the sleeping quarters the two of them are hiding in is about to open and Arthur is about to meet a Vogon for the first time.

“RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!!!” shrieked an unpleasant voice through the now open door.

“PUT YOUR HANDS OR OTHER DEXTROUS APPENDAGES WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!!!” squarks a second, equally unpleasant, voice. Arthur quickly and quietly complied, too frightened and overwhelmed to disobey an order from anyone, let alone a large, green, smelly, bug eyed alien pointing what might be a gun or could be a stand mixer at him. The Doctor, however, didn’t.

“Ah, room service!”

RESISTANCE IS- what?” the first Vogon stuttered, taken aback and clearly unused to people doing anything but quaking in their boots at his arrival.

“My friend and I don’t have any towels. I would have expected them to be here for us when we arrived.”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding, we’re here to arrest-” started the second Vogon.

“And the beds are in a disastrous shape.” continued the Doctor, interrupting him. “They haven’t got sheets on them yet. And one of them is still damp! You know, I think I ought to talk to the hotel manager about this. Very poor service.” The two Vogons looked at each other. The first one shrugged to the second, and then simultaneously fired their guns, for they were indeed guns and not stand mixers, at the Doctor, who collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Chapter Text

The Doctor awoke with a start, their head aching, vision swimming, hearts beating in their ears.

“Are you alright?” said a familiar blob opposite them.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said are you alright?” repeated the blob. It was slowly starting to become more familiar to the Doctor. They definitely recognised the voice, but couldn’t quite place it yet.

“Did somebody shoot me? Why do I feel like somebody shot me?”

“Those two Vogons shot you, the ones with the guns that looked like stand mixers.” Ah yes, the Vogons. They remembered that now. So that must make the blob opposite them…

“Clara! Are you alright?”

“Clara? Who’s Clara?”

“You’re not Clara?”

“No. Who is she?”

“I don’t remember, not anymore. She was very close to me, if I remember correctly. Which I seem not to, so who knows anymore?” They paused. “If you’re not Clara, then who are you?”

“It’s Arthur. Don’t you remember me? You rescued me!” Slowly, the Doctor began to recognise various components of the blob. The muddy green dressing gown, the unkept brown hair, the dishevelled look of somebody who was hungover whilst shaving and then discovered his house was about to be bulldozed.

“Arthur! Of course! Hang on a moment. Something’s wrong. You don’t look right. Are you feeling ok?” The blob was definitely Arthur now, no mistake about it, however there was something wrong.

“I’m feeling a little roughed up, I didn’t get to finish my cup of morning tea, and my planet is about to be destroyed, but apart from that I’d say I’m peachy.”

“No no no, there’s something very wrong with you. There’s hair all over your chin and you seem to be wearing a green dressing gown on top of your head.” Suddenly, a large, burly Vogon loomed into view. Upside down. “Oh, nevermind. I’m upside down aren’t I?” That explained the feeling of blood rushing to their head.

“Greetings Earthlings.” the Vogon spat in the Doctor’s face. “I am your host, Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz, commander of this constructor fleet sent on the behalf of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council to demolish your planet.” The more the Vogon spoke, the more Arthur was reminded of what happens when you mix water and cornflour and put it on top of a speaker and turn it on. He decided to keep this comparison to himself. “Having just delivered the news to the people on the planet below, who seemed woefully ignorant of local galactic politics I might add, I was planning on destroying them and calling it a day.” The Doctor was now covered in a thick layer of green Vogon saliva. Apparently deciding to share the love, Jeltz now turned to face Arthur. “However, I thought I should let you know that I really hate stowaways and hitchhikers, bunch of wasterells the lot of you, and you’ve put me in a really bad mood. A bad enough mood, in fact, to share some of my poetry with you, and the people on the planet below.” At this, the Doctor’s face paled.

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, why don’t you just throw us out an airlock and we’ll be on our way.” They struggled through the watery mucus.

“Throw us out an airlock!? No thank you, I’d prefer the poetry if it’s all the same to you.” Arthur gagged alarmedly.

“Actually it’s not all the same to me. I’m sure your poetry is very nice Mr Prostetnic-”

“That’s Commander Jeltz.” Jeltz interrupted.

“-Mr Commander Jeltz, but there’s no need to bother yourselves with us.”

“Oh, it’s no bother. I’ve got my poetry book right here.”

“See, he’s got his poetry book right here.” Arthur parroted.

“Shut up Arthur!”

“Ahem. Here we go.” Jeltz cleared his throat, spattering Arthur with another wave of spittle. He tapped a little metal microphone to see if it was on, and set a wave of feedback screeching across planet Earth, “Wouldn’tst thou look upon the Galridian Throckwarbbler, as it hurdle girdles its way yonderwards betwixt mine ivory elbow rings.” Almost immediately, the Doctor began to twitch. “And thusly aerlinger along timely until forthwith thine earwax puddles doth wicker wack along the calisthenic anomaly of our great Yorroscop.” The Doctor gagged. Arthur was unphased, the verses reminding him of his highschool English classes. A throwback to a simpler time, before he was kidnapped by aliens and read mediocre poetry and gunpoint. “Fronthing wherein thou art belonging, I’dn’t’ve guessed your elisitude couldst bespoke ointment bring. Alas, alack.” Then he slammed the book shut between his grubby hands with a squelch. “Well?”

“Well what?” Arthur asked. The Doctor didn’t respond, their eyes scrunched shut as if in pain. The Earth remained in silent shock.

“Well what did you think of it?”

“I actually rather enjoyed it.”

“Oh?” The Vogon took a step back at this. Nobody had told him they liked his poetry before. At least nobody he hadn’t paid to.

“Yes, it was quite reminiscent of some works I heard in my youth.”

“Go on…”

“Um, it had a rather interesting rhythmic structure to it. And I particularly enjoyed the shortened final verse. Really gave it some emphasis at the end. A bit of oomph.”

“Mhmm.” Arthur was beginning to run out of what little he still remembered from his highschool English.

“Uh… well… the triple contraction of ‘I’dn’t’ve’ allowed the penultimate verse to speed rather nicely into the abrupt ending. And I could really feel the humanity-”

“Vogonity!” Stuttered the Doctor.

“What?”

“Vogonity!”

“Oh, right. I could really feel the vogonity of the piece, it really served to bare your soul to your audience.”

“Bare my soul?”

“Yes, I could feel that you were using the poem to bring out the parts of you from deep down inside that you otherwise have to keep hidden.”

“So what you’re saying is that I write poetry because underneath my mean callous heartless exterior I really just want to be loved?”

“Um, yes. I suppose I am. I mean don’t we all want to be loved? Deep down?” Jeltz paused again, looking at Arthur for a moment.

“WRONG!” he suddenly yelled. “I just write poetry to throw my mean callous heartless exterior into sharp relief. And now you’ve ruined that for me, so I’m going to throw you both off the ship.”

“Oh finally.” The Doctor moaned.

“You're not helping!” called back Arthur.

“GUARDS! Take these two and throw them out the airlock! And while you’re at it, throw out that ugly blue box they arrived in too. I’m going to go and blow up their sorry excuse for a planet and you better hope it cheers me up otherwise I’ll have both of you thrown out the airlock as well.” Without a moment's hesitation, the guards who had stunned the Doctor earlier grabbed them and Arthur and began carrying the two of them away from the bridge.

“The vogonity of the piece? Complete poppycock.” Jeltz muttered to himself as they left.

Chapter Text

“I suppose there’s nothing for us to do now but die, is there?.” Arthur asked glumly as he and the Doctor listened to the vogons’ footsteps steadily echo away from the airlock.

“There’s no need for that sort of attitude.” The Doctor chastised. “There’s always hope.”

“Hope? Hope!?” Arthur said incredulously. “We’re stuck inside an airlock about to be flushed out into the cold, deadly, vacuum of space, where we’ll no doubt freeze to death, meanwhile the alien spaceship we’re onboard is preparing to destroy my planet! What hope do we have?”

“Firstly, we won’t freeze to death. We’ll die from a lack of oxygen long before that becomes an issue. But don’t worry, you’ll black out within a few seconds so you won’t feel anything.”

“Oh of course that’s what you correct me on! That’s not at all comforting.”

And secondly, your planet is going to survive being destroyed. I told you this earlier weren’t you listening?”

“If the Earth is going to survive then why did you bother to ‘rescue’ me in the first place!?”

“I received a message.”

“Oh, someone called you up on your mobile phone, did they? I can imagine the conversation: ‘There’s this chap called Arthur from the planet Earth who it’d be really funny to kidnap just before his planet doesn’t get blown up. You’ll find him lying in the mud in front of a bulldozer. Yeah, in the green dressing gown, that’s the one.’” Arthur mocked, clearly not handling the stress of his imminent demise well.

“That’s pretty much it, yeah.” The Doctor confirmed, missing the sarcasm. “Except it wasn’t a phone call. I received a message on this.” With that, they pulled out a small leather wallet with a blank piece of card in it from inside their jacket and offered it to Arthur.

“What’s that? Some sort of space letter?”

“It’s called psychic paper. It shows the reader whatever I want them to see.”

“Ah. That explains why it’s telling me to shut up and let you think.”

“Yes, I’d appreciate it if you did.”

“But who sent it to you then?” Arthur asked, ignoring the Doctor’s request.

“I don’t know, but whoever it is must be psychically attuned or extremely clever. Not just anyone can piggyback a message via my psychic paper.” They explained. “The last time this happened it was my future wife, and the time before that it was an old friend with a really large head.”

“Had a bit of an ego?”

“Yes but that’s unrelated.”

“So you’re telling me that one of those two wanted you to kidnap me?”

“There’s no chance it’s either of them, I’d know. I think. And I didn’t kidnap you! I rescued you! I would have expected some thanks by now.”

“Well I’ll thank you once we make it off this spaceship without suffocating.”

“Please do. It’s getting tiring being this impressive without anyone telling me how clever and amazing I am. That’s what I usually keep you humans around for.”

“Now hang on a moment. You keep saying that like you're not a human.”

“That’s because I’m not. Keep up.”

“But you look human!”

“No. You look Time Lord, we came first.”

“Time Lord? That’s not at all pretentious. Who are they?”

“The Time Lords were a noble and powerful race who watched over time and space to ensure nobody meddled with intended events.”

“Were?”

“It’s a long story, but I’m pretty much the last one left now.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. What happened?”

“Well for a while I thought I killed them all, but it turns out I didn’t.”

“What?”

“And then an academy friend of mine did kill them all, so it’s just her and me now, as far as I know.”

“But I don’t understand, didn’t you say that blue box of yours was a time machine? Couldn’t you just go back in time and save them or something?”

“I can’t interfere with my own timeline, especially when involving the Time Lords. Most of their history is quantum locked. It’s a necessary precaution for a species capable of time travel, otherwise it’s too easy to accidentally become your own grandfather.”

“And that’s a common problem is it?”

“For less advanced races it is.”

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments. Arthur could feel the rumbling of the spaceship’s engines through his dressing gown. It had mostly dried off by now but was heavily encrusted with mud. It was a shame, he thought. His sister had bought it for him as a birthday gift, but he supposed he could pick up a new one when he got back to Earth. Assuming the Doctor was correct about it surviving, that was.

He looked about the airlock again. He’d already done so once when he’d arrived, unceremoniously thrown in by one of the vogon guards, but maybe he’d missed something. There were the same grey metal walls. The same grey metal door. The same yellow and black hazard tape outlining the emergency airlock opening button. Each time he looked at the button he felt an overwhelming urge to push it, and so he tried to keep it out of his field of vision. Nothing had changed since last time, except for the slightly dirtier floor around him from where the mud was flaking off.

Why shouldn’t you press the button , his subconscious said to him. You’re going to die anyway, why prolong the suffering ?

But the Doctor might come up with something , his rational conscious replied, and if you press the button before then you’d feel like a right old fool . The two voices in his head continued to do battle as the Doctor paced inside the confined airlock.

We’ve been in there an awfully long time already, if the Doctor was going to have an idea they’d have done it by now , countered his subconscious.

That’s a fair point , responded the conscious.

The two aspects now in agreement, Arthur pulled himself to his feet, walked over to the large button on the wall, and pressed it.

“What the he-” but the two of them were blasted out into space before the Doctor could finish speaking.

Chapter Text

Space is big. Really big. You just won't believe how vastly hugely mindboggingly big it is. I mean you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist, but that's just peanuts to space. Listen, you may have an image in your mind about how big space is, but you may as well forget that because space is bigger. It’s so big that, if you were thrown out of an airlock in a random location the odds of you getting rescued by another passing ship are two to the power of two hundred and sixty-seven thousand seven hundred and nine to one against. These odds, however, increase drastically if, when getting thrown out the aforementioned airlock, you are accompanied by a Time Lord who just so happens to be in the possession of a TARDIS which will helpfully pick you up within seconds of your exposure to the vacuum of space.

Arthur was not in space long before he was picked up by the TARDIS. He was in space long enough, however, to catch a glimpse of the Earth. A magnificent bluey-green bowling ball rolling through the black alley of space. It all looked so tiny from up here, and for the first time in his, until recently, fairly mundane life Arthur began to comprehend the enormity of the universe and his microscopic size in comparison to it. His house was but a speck on a speck on an England which from here would have only looked to be the size of his thumb had he taken the time to stick his arm out and check against his thumb. His thumb, however, was preoccupied, much like the rest of him, in trying not to die in the vacuum of space.

The Doctor had intended for the opening airlock to deposit the two of them directly through the open doors of the TARDIS, and had simply been waiting for their time capsule to become reoriented after itself getting ejected into space by the vogons. Unfortunately, Arthur’s brief flirtation with the airlock opening button had forced them to accelerate their plans. They frantically buzzed a command code via their sonic sunglasses with one hand whilst desperately searching pockets for a TARDIS key with the other. It was at times like this that they almost regretted retiring the screwdriver, it lacked the tendency to float off your face that the glasses had adopted in low gravity environments. Finally locating the key, naturally in the last pocket they checked, they held it out in front of them and the TARDIS lock began to materialise around it. Triumphant, they turned it, and the Doctor and Arthur tumbled through the double doors and landed in a heap on the floor. They made a mental note to install a welcome mat, the metal gantry was rather unwelcoming to entrances such as these.

“Next time the two of us are in an airlock, don’t expect me to rescue you again!” The Doctor said to Arthur once they’d gotten to their feet and brushed off the space dust from their jacket. Thanks to their respiratory bypass system they had been quickly able to catch their breath. Arthur, however, with his distinctly human physiology, was not so lucky.

“We survived?” he finally managed, gulping down great lungfuls of air.

“No thanks to you. Do you make a habit of pressing every button you see? I love a big red button as much as the next person but there’s a time and a place!”

“How did we survive?” Arthur ignored them.

“Once you finally shut up and let me think I was able to send a message to the TARDIS to come and pick us up after the vogons had offloaded it, or I would have done if you hadn’t decided to throw us out the airlock early whilst I was still inputting the coordinates.”

“Oh. That’s what you were doing? I thought you were adjusting your sunglasses.”

“I was, it’s how I input the coordinates.”

“With your sunglasses?” Arthur was incredulous.

“They’re sonic!” the Doctor buzzed them defensively, “See?”

Interrupting their bickering, a noise like a thousand badly tuned violins suddenly filled the TARDIS. Arthur instinctively covered his ears, whilst the Doctor solemnly turned towards the still-open doors.

“It’s begun. Welcome to the end of the world.” At the Doctor’s grim words a beam of lurid yellow jumped from the nearest vogon constructor ship, the one they’d recently been evicted from, towards the Earth. It was quickly joined by another, and then another, as one by one the fleet fired up their Complete Annihilation Beams. Within seconds the planet was engulfed in a yellow glow, and then as quickly as it had begun it ended. An empty, lifeless, void hung in space before them where the Earth had been.

“Where’s it gone?” Arthur asked as he lowered his hands from his ears and got to his feet. “Where’s the Earth gone? You said it was going to survive?” The Doctor didn’t respond. “Doctor, are you listening to me? Where’s my planet gone? My home?”

A single tear ran down the Doctor’s cheek. “Something’s gone wrong.” They said quietly.

“Pardon? What was that?”

“The Earth has gone…”

“But you told me-”

“I know what I told you!” The Doctor raised their voice, only a fraction, but enough to shoot daggers of ice through Arthur’s soul. “It should be here! The Earth should be here!” They ran back past Arthur to the TARDIS console. It sprang to life at their fingertips as they spun taps and pulled levers. The groaning, creaking, sound started up, and the doors slammed themselves shut.

“What are you doing?”

“A short jump into the future. Fifteen minutes.” They pulled around a monitor. Nothing. Just the empty void staring back at them. They pressed a series of buttons. “An hour.” The screen remained blank. They pulled yet more levers. “A day?” Still nothing. “A month!” The Doctor kept going. Further and further into the future. A year, and then a decade and then a century. “Why isn’t it here!?” Sparks flew from the console without warning and Arthur threw himself to the ground to avoid them. Flames burst from the controls, but the Doctor ignored them, focussing on the still empty screen.

“Are you sure this is safe!?”

“To hell with safe! The Earth must be here! All my calculations say so!” The TARDIS wobbled violently, and the echo of the cloister bells sounded, the TARDIS’ warning siren. Another shower of sparks erupted, this time towards the Doctor, throwing them back towards the guardrailing. The entire room lurched, and Arthur barely grabbed ahold of a rail before being rendered parallel to the floor. The TARDIS was awash with lights and sparks and flames, and acrid black smoke began to fill the air. The Doctor tumbled, unable to steady themselves, and crashed into one of the bookshelves that lined the walls.

“We need to land!” Arthur cried out, knuckles turning white with exertion.

“I can’t reach the console!” Called back the Doctor, scarlet trickling from their hairline.

“Well I can’t do it! I’ve never flown a spaceship before!”

“I’m sure you can manage it! It’s just like driving a car!”

“Really!?”

“No! I was lying to make you feel better! It’s actually very difficult!”

Oh, thanks!” Arthur huffed.

“First you need to press down that red lever!”

Arthur spied the lever in question, just within reach of his legs, and kicked it into position. “Ok! What next!?”

“On the console panel to the right of it, turn the green dial ninety degrees clockwise!”

He could see the dial but there was no way he could reach it from here.

“It’s too far away!”

“Well you’re just going to have to drop then!”

“Drop!?”

“Yes! That’s what I said! Drop!”

“No, I meant- nevermind!” Arthur took a deep breath, which he immediately regretted thanks to the smoke continuing to fill the room, and dropped. As he fell past the console, he grabbed ahold of the monitor which swung around and left him hanging just next to the panel with the green dial. He reached up and turned it ninety degrees clockwise. “Next!?”

“Last step now, I need you to press the keys labelled 7, E, and Phi!”

The keyboard was on the same panel as the dial and Arthur could reach it with relative ease. “7, E…” he said to himself, then paused. “What’s a Phi!?”

“It’s a Greek letter, like a circle with a line through it.”

Arthur pressed the final key. “Phi!”

Then the TARDIS was plunged into darkness.

Chapter Text

“What happened?” Arthur asked the darkness.

“We've arrived.” The darkness responded ominously, or rather the Doctor did.

“Arrived? Where?”

“The TARDIS appears to have shut down, and when it does that it's supposed to land on the nearest planetary object in space, regardless of time.” A blue glow suddenly appeared across the room from Arthur, illuminating the Doctor's face with an eerie light, accompanied by a high-pitched buzzing sound.

“What do you mean supposed to ?” Arthur responded uncertainly.

“The TARDIS has never come to a stop like this, there's usually a lot more crashing and exploding.”

“Well isn't that a good thing?” Arthur did not like the sound of crashing and exploding, in fact considering his day so far he'd rather gone off sudden noises altogether.

“It could be, if the TARDIS genuinely has shut down it means we were already on a planet when it did so. You can't exactly crash if you're not moving.” The Doctor came over the console and shone the blue light over it. “You definitely pressed all the buttons I told you to?”

“Of course I did!” He said defensively. “7, E, and the weird circle with a line along it.”

“Along it!?”

“Yes, this one.” Arthur gestured to one of the buttons on the keyboard that was basked in blue light.”

“That's a Theta, not a Phi!” The Doctor ran their fingers through their hair nervously. “Do they not teach computational Ancient Greek in schools anymore?”

“Uh, I don't believe my school offered it.” It was not a course Arthur had ever heard of. Maybe it was alien. Or maybe it was one of those fancy courses they do at private schools. “What difference does it make though? It's only one button.”

“Only one button! My god you humans never cease to amaze me.”

“With our creativity and can-do attitudes?” He asked hopefully.

“With your stupidity! Does it come naturally or do you have to work at it?”

“I-”

“Don't answer that, you'll only distract me from fixing your mistake.”

Arthur crossed his arms and pouted, but remained silent as the Doctor scuttled round the console, flicking switches and turning dials. Nothing happened. In fact, nothing continued to happen for rather a while, and after what felt like hours of arm crossing and pouting, Arthur decided to speak up again.

“Well, whilst we're here, wherever here is, it couldn't hurt to take a look outside, could it?”

“Oh certainly not.” The Doctor responded, not looking up from their work. “You could only die painfully in the vacuum of space or be eaten alive by Vashta Nerada. No big loss.”

Arthur gulped.

“Are either of those- uh, are either of those likely to happen?”

“Probably not, but put these on just in case.” The Doctor tossed a small cylindrical container towards Arthur, who in the dark dropped them and had to fumble around on the floor for a moment. Finally retrieving the container, he opened them and found a pair of sunglasses.

“Are you particularly worried about it being bright outside?”

“They're peril sensitive.”

“What?”

“In the event of incoming peril, they'll activate to keep you safe from alarm. If that happens, get back to the TARDIS quickly. Otherwise I'm sure you'll be fine.”

“You fill me with confidence.” Arthur replied dryly, putting on the sunglasses.

There are quite a few planets in the universe. Billions of trillions of them. In fact, if you were to spend one day on each, by the time you'd visited them all there would be a couple more billion trillion for you to visit afterwards. Whilst this is partly a result of the sheer astronomical amount of time it would require for one to complete such a monumental undertaking, it is also in no small part affected by the little known Gort’s Nebula. The nebula, discovered by Frances Gort (no relation) and positioned towards the northern point of the Tanubulan Galaxy, is a birthplace for stars, like many other nebulae. Unlike other nebulae, it is incredibly lazy. Whereas an upstanding galactic citizen such as the Crab Nebula or the Nebula of Cyclops will create a new star every few thousand or million years, to then go about it's business forming planets and whatnot, the Gort's Nebula will only spend a couple dozen years or even months before deciding it's put enough work into this particular star and spitting it out into the universe. The star, which is inevitably of very small stature thanks to its parent’s lack of work ethic, will be unable to form anything nearing a normal planet in size and be forced to create a collection of tiny planets which it will be able to do in a relatively short amount of time. All this is to say that there are an ever increasing selection of unique planets that Arthur could be about to find himself on…

The first thing that struck Arthur as he stepped out onto this alien planet was how much it bore a resemblance to a Welsh quarry.

The second thing that struck Arthur as he stepped out onto this alien planet was a medium-sized rock.

“Ouch!” he cried, taken aback. He was not accustomed to being struck with rocks of any size upon arriving at new places, especially not without even being offered a cup of tea first. Rubbing the shoulder where the rock had impacted, Arthur looked around to locate the source of the rock. His search was quickly ended however when:

“That’s what you get for taking off and leaving me on an alien planet! Again!” a young human-looking woman with mid length brown hair and wearing a casual suit called over to Arthur from beside a small pile of throwable medium-sized rocks. “I’ve been waiting for you here for three hours!”

“Tricia!?” Arthur called back, then quickly doubted himself. She did bear a striking resemblance to a beautiful, charming, and devastatingly intelligent young woman Arthur had tried, unsuccessfully, to pick up at a party in an Islington flat two months prior, however, on closer inspection, this was not Tricia Macmillan.

“Tricia? No, it’s Sarah Jane! Sarah Jane Smith!”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“It’s bad enough that you’ve changed again, but forgetting me? That’s low. Really low.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about the dressing-gown, I would change but my house-”

“I’m not talking about the dressing-gown, although it is worse than the scarf and hat. I’m talking about your face!”

“My face?”

“Yes Doctor, you’ve gone and changed it again! What happened? And why’d you leave me?”

Ah, thought Arthur. This made sense now. Whoever this Sarah person was, she was clearly one of the Doctor’s friends and had mistaken him for them.

“I’m sorry, I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I’m Arthur, Arthur Dent. The Doctor you’re looking for is still inside their, uh, TARDIS thingy.”

“They’ve replaced me!?!” Without waiting for a response, Sarah Jane stormed towards the TARDIS doors. Arthur’s sunglasses turned opaque black and he tripped over the hem of his dressing-gown in surprise and was sent sprawling in the dirt. However, before the thought Peril sensitive my ass could cross Arthur’s mind, the dust began to be swept up around him and a lurching, groaning sound filled the air.

“Oh no you don’t!” Sarah Jane shouted at the blue box as it began to dematerialise, but to no avail, and the two humans were left alone on the alien planet.

Chapter Text

“So how did you meet the Doctor?” Arthur asked sheepishly, nudging at a worn pebble with the toe of his slipper. The TARDIS had been gone for over an hour, and he was beginning to get cold.

“Oh, it's a complicated story.” Started Sarah Jane, looking up from the pile of medium sized rocks she was sat contemplatively on. ”I originally met him on this planet called Earth-”

“Earth!?” Arthur blurted. “You're from Earth too?”

“Oh yes! It's a nice change to finally meet another human out here I must say.”

“Oh dear, I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? You haven't done anything?”

“No, well, you see, the Earth, it's… it’s…” Arthur trailed off, unsure how to phrase the devastating news.

“It’s what? Come on now spit it out.” Sarah Jane said with a tinge of worry.

Arthur felt the fear and the sorrow bubbling up inside him. It had been one thing to witness the destruction of his home from orbit, but having to explain it to potentially the only other human left alive was something else entirely. Taking a deep breath of the dusty air, he sucked up his courage and delivered the truth:

“The Earth has been destroyed.”

An uncomfortable silence quickly filled the empty space between them. Arthur gulped loudly as the magnitude of what had happened finally washed over him, and judging by her facial expressions Sarah Jane seemed to be going through the five stages of grief in reverse alphabetical order.

“But how? And when?” She finally broke the silence, starting firmly in Denial.

“A fleet of Vogons demolished it,” replied Arthur, “about half an hour before I got here.”

“But what time did you leave from? You must be from the far future of my Earth!” Sarah Jane had reached Bargaining.

“Well, last I checked it was 1985, but-”

“But that's not possible! The Doctor and I went Christmas shopping in New Zealand in 1986!”

“Are you sure it wasn't a different New Zealand?” Arthur asked, somewhat sceptically.

“Don't be ridiculous!” She practically growled at Arthur, she was firmly at Anger. “I know when I'm on Earth!” The peril sensitive sunglasses turned opaque again.

“Sorry. Of course.” Arthur removed the glasses and scooted himself slightly away from Sarah Jane, although remaining fully within medium sized rock throwing range.

The last two humans sat in silence in the grey Welsh-quarry-like wastes. The thin air whistled past them, blowing dust around feebly and rustling Arthur's hair in the way that leaves you looking attractive in action movies and dishevelled in real life. Stars glittered in the dark sky in a way not seen on Earth since the proliferation of the electric street lamp and the rise of light pollution. Sarah Jane had finally reached Acceptance.

“And I never said goodbye properly to Aunt Lavinia!” She sobbed into her hands. “She must have been so worried about me.”

“There there,” said Arthur in his best impression of a vicar at a funeral, “I'm sure she had faith that you were safe.”

“No but you don't understand, she raised me when my parents died and after all her kindness I disappear without a word and before I return to let her know where I've been the whole planet has been destroyed.” Even Arthur had to admit it was quite the tragedy

“Oh god.” Arthur suddenly said under his breath.

“What?” She looked up from her hands, concerned.

“I'm an orphan now…”

“Join the club.”

“It hasn't occurred to me until what you said about your parents.”

“Well let me tell you it's not all it's cracked up to be.”

“It's at times like this that I wish I'd listened to what my mother had told me when I was little.”

“Why, what did she tell you?”

“I don't know, I didn't listen.”

“Oh.”

The two returned to sitting in orphaned silence.

Meanwhile, halfway across the universe and in another time, the TARDIS had landed again. Hauling themselves back to their feet, the Doctor inspected the now dormant console.

“What on Skaro?” They muttered to themselves. Something had forced the TARDIS to dematerialise, yanking it through the time vortex, before forcing it to materialise again. Nothing should have that power. Not unless someone had gotten ahold of the largest source of Huon particle since the Dark Times. Swinging around a screen, they took a look outside. A hairy caterpillar of an eyebrow raised itself on the Doctor’s face. Most of the readings were relatively normal, oxygen nitrogen mix atmosphere, 9.9 Gs of gravity, 101 kPa air pressure, the whole habitable shebang. What was not relatively normal, however, was the image in the centre of the screen showing the TARDIS' immediate surroundings. Not believing his eyes or the console screen in the slightest, the Doctor rushed to the doors and stepped outside.

“I’m sorry sir but I’m going to have to ask you to stop filling that bath with sand!”

There are very few places that sell ebony bathtubs. The reason for this is straightforward: when wood comes into contact with water and then dries it begins to warp and change its shape, cracking and bending. Ebony, being a type of wood, is no exception to this, and as such any owner of such a bathtub has to ensure it is properly sealed and perform regular maintenance on it if they don’t want to spend several thousand pounds on a replacement. Fortunately for those with a knack for making bathtubs out of wood, there is still a market for these impractical lavatorical statements among the disgustingly rich who are in the habit of regularly replacing their bathtubs anyway. When such an individual is in need of a new tub they, or more often their butler, can quickly find a replacement by taking a quick trip down to London, specifically to Harrods department store, the only place where these extravagances can be found for sale. It is the Harrods department store in London where, against all odds, the Doctor now finds themselves.

“But you’re the only place with ebony bathtubs.” calmly explained a tall gentleman in a geometric jumper and wild curly hair, as he continued to fill the bath with fine white sand.

“Be that as it may,” retorted a young woman in a Harrods uniform, “you can’t use products without paying for them first, and you definitely cannot fill stock with flour-”

“It’s sand” corrected the tall gentleman.

“That’s not the point!”

“Well it sort of is the point. Flour’s a lot more expensive than sand and if I had that kind of money I’d have paid for the bathtub.”

“Well if you don’t have the money to pay for it then I’m going to call security.” Clearly at the end of her temper, the young woman marched off, presumably in the direction of one or more moderately armed department store security officers.

“You don’t happen to have a video camera in your ship do you?” The gentleman asked suddenly, looking up at the Doctor who was still standing in the TARDIS’s doorway.

“I’m sorry?” They replied, taken aback at his casualness.

“Do you have a video camera? You see I need it to film this bath as it empties. I’ve got this plan you see. I’m going to film the bathtub emptying of sand and then play it back in reverse.”

“Uh, I believe I have one somewhere.” The Doctor turned around and stepped back into the TARDIS, deeply confused at the whole situation. Why couldn’t they return to the Earth before? Why could they now? And why is this strange gentleman who seems very comfortable with the idea of telephone box shaped spaceships filling an ebony bathtub with sand? Walking absentmindedly around the console, they opened a small hatch and pulled out a clamshell phone. A gift from Martha Jones in 2007, it was hardly a complex piece of technology, but it did have a built-in camera and could practically be considered advanced when compared to what the people of Arthur’s time were used to. Arthur! The Doctor had forgotten about their latest companion in all the recent bath-related kerfuffle, they’d left him somewhen on that desolate planet! Going back around the console to prepare to return to their previous location, the Doctor suddenly heard the TARDIS doors creak closed and turned to see the tall gentleman again.

“Lovely place you’ve got here. I like what you’ve done with the inside, but it must have taken ages to stretch the outside around it.”

“Who are you?” the Doctor’s curiosity overtook them. “And what are you doing on Earth? You’re definitely not a local.”

“You can call me Ford Prefect. And I thought it was obvious, I was filling a bathtub with sand.”

“No I mean what brings you to the planet?”

“Oh, I see.” replied Ford, seemingly genuine in his confusion. “Well you see I’m a writer for this travel guide, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You might have heard of it. Anyway, I came here to update the entry for the planet Earth. Except that was more than ten years ago now, and I’ve not run into another off worlder until today. Say, you don’t think you could give me a lift? I wouldn’t ask, except it’s awfully boring here. Do you know what it takes to drive a man to fill an ebony bathtub with sand so he can watch it drain away in reverse?”

The Doctor sighed, they didn’t have time to try an extricate Ford. They needed to work out what was going on with the Earth, and they needed to find Arthur. “Fine, but don’t touch anything! I need to pick up a friend of mine. A Human named Arthur, he left the TARDIS — that’s my ship by the way — he left it to explore this planet, except somebody hijacked my ride before I could pick him up.”

“Oh, I have a friend named Arthur too. Arthur Dent.” Ford said casually. The Doctor froze.

“Arthur Philip Dent?”
“Yes. How did you know?”

“Hopefully it’s just an improbable coincidence,” the Doctor said darkly, “because otherwise there’s something awfully strange going on around your friend.” With that, the Doctor pulled the lever on the dematerialisation circuit, and the TARDIS roared to life.