The galaxy was ending, and the Doctor didn’t love it as much as usual. Despite having watched the rise and fall of countless civilizations, even planets, the death of a galaxy was still, by far, his favorite. Through the TARDIS’ window, he watched as the final few stars were sucked into the black sphere at the center. As the Doctor watched, the black hole sucked up the last few clouds of nebula. It had a certain grace he had to admire – a certain chaotic elegance. The moon-sized orb contained thousands of planets, billions of civilizations, and billions of stars crunched together into the one, astronomically dense orb. But it wasn’t appealing anymore. Instead of exemplifying the grace of the universe, the fundamental magnificence of space, it was shoving a cold reality in his face. The universe is a dark, cold, empty place.
He watched as the last few bursts of cosmic radiation shot from the orb. Crimson arcs bursting from the sphere like bullets from a mini-gun. Columns of pure energy shooting off in every direction. But, as less and less was being absorbed, the fire rate was quickly decreasing to about one burst per minute.
Sighing, he slowly leaned forward, his head pressed against the glass. Something was missing. The Doctor hated to admit it, but it was true. The universe wasn’t nearly as fun without someone to share it with. He wanted a girl, a human, or anything with a face he could watch gape in amazement! He needed an assistant! However, the search wasn’t going well at all. His searching of every time period, every corner of space had left him with nothing to show other than a few bruises. Not one creature had piqued his interest in the slightest. It was…irritating! Extremely irritating! Why couldn’t someone pop out of nowhere like they usually did?
After letting out another lonely sigh, he turned his attention away from his thoughts and back to reality. Still pulsing with energy, the orb hadn’t moved a bit. But… something didn’t seem right. As the Doctor watched, something seemed…off. It was still completely stable, periodic bursts of energy blasting off the surface in a crimson lightshow.
That’s when he spotted it; in the center of the void-black sphere, a crimson dot was glowing faintly. It seemed completely harmless at first glance, but as he watched, the light grew brighter and brighter, the diameter becoming wider with each second. Right about then was when realization hit him: It was a bolt of superheated particles, and a heavy dose of radiation to boot, hurtling forward at close to the speed of light.
And it was coming straight at him.
Well this isn’t very good.
Rushing to the central terminal, the Doctor quickly became a flurry of switch switching, knob twirling, wibbly-wobbly wiggling, and faucet twisting. He silently cursed to himself, hands flying across the console with centuries of practice. The slow, quiet hum of the TARDIS could be heard, but not as quickly, or as loud as the Doctor wished. It wasn’t meant to make such sudden starts!
Thummm, Thumm, Thumm…
The entire inside of the ship glowed red, increasingly brighter as the deadly burst shot closer.
“Come on…you can do it…! Almost there…!” the Doctor mumbled to his ship, frantically doing anything in his power to speed up the takeoff process.
Thummm…! Thummm…! Thummm..!
The light’s dimming! We’re going to make it! We’re going to make it!
Outside the window, the universe began to fade, the TARDIS beginning its trip to somewhere, anywhere but here…
The bolt hit like a… well, like a burst of cosmic radiation, causing the TARDIS to shake violently as if caught in an earthquake. The Doctor was flung onto his side as sparks shot from the center console like a firecracker, flames jutting out from cracks in the ceiling. Reality twisted like a pretzel, the TARDIS caught between destinations when the cosmic burst hit. It absorbed most of the blast, for better or for worse, and continued with the constant thrumming of the takeoff process.
THUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUMTHUM
However, the TARDIS was going crazy, the glass orbs in the center beginning to piston faster than most eyes could keep track of. Everything was enveloped in a brilliant white light, blinding the Doctor in mere moments. Then everything faded.
…
Bloody Hell…
Every muscle in the Doctor’s body ached. A painful throbbing felt throughout his entire body. Even the smallest movement was met with a sharp stab of pain. The Doctor felt extremely aware of his body, and yet at the same time, completely numb. A soft groan escaped his lips, in too much pain to even open his eyes.
What in the world happened? The TARDIS should have become intangible by the time that cosmic burst had hit! Sure, Hawking Radiation was one of the more confusing, random energies out there. Even the Time Lords were a bit fuzzy on it. But was it really possible that some quantum interaction could have allowed the energy to hit?
The whole ordeal was a strange blur, like an abstract painting. The pieces were there, but the Doctor couldn’t make it into one coherent memory. But, he was alive. In addition, he was still himself. Well… his current self, anyways. No regeneration had occurred. His thought process was still exactly the same. He still despised pears. Things were looking good, and yet, something continued to feel off. A simple forgotten, and probably obvious, fact teasing at the edge of his brain. It was most certainly...unsettling.
The Doctor laid where he was for a few minutes, or what he guessed to be a few minutes (Ironically, he always had been bad with time), collecting his bearings and trying to put to order the chaos that was his mind. As the painful throbbing and the blur of post-unconsciousness continued to fade, he began to take note of his surroundings: the light, cool breeze sweeping through his hair, and the soft blanket of grass underneath him.
Two thoughts slammed their way into his mind, taking importance above all else.
Strange, I’m not in the Tardis anymore.
Why am I naked?
The Doctor’s eyes shot open. Foliage surrounded him in all directions. Unusually bright flowers and Ireland green leaves. It was colorful as a rainforest, but not nearly as wet. It faintly reminded him of prehistoric forests, but everything seemed too vivid for it to be. Everything just had this…crisp, fresh feeling to it, so full of life.
But the Doctor had more pressing matters on his mind than the surrounding greenery. He was just slightly more worried about the matter of a muzzle sticking out of his face and into his vision.
Oh my! Well, this is new!
Stunned, the Doctor began lifting his right hand to his face only to find a big, circular hoof now replaced it. He examined said hoof, which finished off a stump of an arm (his stump of an arm). Casting his gaze along the limb, he noticed short, bark-brown fur covered his stump. He checked his other arm and, to his lack of surprise, found another stump. Stumpy, stump stump.
As he examining further, the Doctor should have been frightened of what he discovered, but it was just so terribly fascinating! Somehow, it would seem his body had changed into that of a stallion! Oh, stumpy legs! He couldn’t help but flail his new limbs and let out a giddy giggle. A horse, of all things! How strange!
“Oh my. What do we have here? A new pony in town? How queer!”
“Eep! I mean, um… hello? Who goes there?” the Doctor meeped twisting his head in all directions to locate the source of this new voice, soon becoming distracted by his mane as it brushed over his back and neck and once, even, over his head and eyes. How delightfully odd!
To his left, the foliage shifted, rustling about as someone, or something, walked through it. The Doctor tensed his new muscles, ready to pounce or flee should either be necessary as, from the bush, came another equine, like himself. However, this one appeared female, from the thick eyeliner surrounding her eyes, to the large gold rings of her jewelry, and even her generally more curved figure than his own, but, with that Mohawk, it was slightly hard to tell. She was mainly a light, smoky grey, but with streaks of slate-grey across her fur, including her Mohawk and tail. Strangely enough, she also had a bizarre marking on her rump which resembled a golden sun.
A zebra?
“Why do you stare? Was it something I said?” she - yes, with that voice, the zebra was almost certainly female - asked, a slightly curious tone in her voice.
“Or could it be that blue bump atop your forehead?”
Her voice had a curious singsong quality to it, and the rhyme wasn’t lost on the Doctor. It was very reminiscent of a read-aloud storybook mixed with a hint of an African accent.
“You’re a zebra. A zebra! And you can talk! And I’m a horse! And I can still talk!” the Doctor exclaimed, flailing a hoof in the air with childish excitement.
The zebra let out a hearty giggle, smiling widely. “Oh, you silly, you are not a horse. Your species is an earth pony, of course!”
Earth? Does that mean I’m on earth? Or is it just a synonym for ground? I’m certainly not in London, that’s quite certain.
“An earth pony? Oh, yes, of course! Silly me.”
The Doctor gave another curious glance to his hooves. HOOVES! He had HOOVES! What, in the entire universe, had happened to him while he was out?
“My dear little pony! You don’t look well! Perhaps you should come to my hut, so I can check up on you for a spell?” This zebra seemed honestly concerned. A bit eccentric, yes, but probably harmless. She could probably answer some of his questions, too.
After just a moment of hesitation, he agreed with a small nod of his head. “Alrighty then! But, um, Dear? Could you possibly help me up? I’m not used to this new form of walking at all!” He paused, smirking to himself. “I’m a quadruped! How utterly fascinating!”
The exotic mare gave another little chuckle, quickly trotting over to help the brown-furred Time Lord. With her help, the Doctor finally managed to get onto his fee- Er, no, not feet. Hooves. He managed to get onto his new hooves, knees trembling slightly.
The zebra giggled once more. “Are you sure you are not an overgrown foal? You look about as graceful as an ice-skating mole!”
“Oh be quiet, you!” the Doctor grumbled quietly as he began taking small, tentative steps beside her. Having four legs definitely improved balance, but he constantly found his hoofs out of sync, or even forgetting to move his front two legs entirely! It wasn’t bad - just foreign. Not too unlike regeneration, actually.
After a few minutes of awkward wobbling, he seemed to at least grasp the basics of walking well enough to remove at least some of his focus from his hooves, and ask one of the more important questions on his mind. “So, who exactly are you, anyway?”
“The zebra’s name before you is Zecora; Heading to her den, hidden in the Evergreen flora. I come from a land far, far away, having come to Ponyville for their excellent hay.”
The Doctor couldn’t help but burst into a fit of chuckles. Ponyville? Ponyville! It was like something out of a cheesy cartoon! “And let me-” he was interrupted by another chuckle. “- Guess. You used to live in - heh - FILLYdelphia? Or maybe MANEhatten?” If the Time Lord were still a bipedal, he would probably be rolling around in laughter.
“No, but a decent guess. Both of those town’s lie many leagues to the west.”
That shut the Doctor up pretty quickly, leaving an awkward silence in place of what a second ago was abundant laughter. His eyes didn’t sparkle with tears of laughter, but now with genuine interest and curiosity. After another moment, he finally asked, “Now let me get this straight. Not only this town, but this entire world is inhabited by sentient…” He paused a moment. “Equines?”
Zecora gave a simple, confirming nod, the look on her face a mix of motherly concern and curiosity. Did she have to teach this colt how the sun set at night? However, it was likely just minor amnesia from whatever he had gotten himself into – nothing a good potion wouldn’t fix.
The Doctor became quickly dissolved in the mass of thoughts swarming about his brain like a disturbed beehive. Even for intergalactic space-time travel, this was weird. Really weird. But so invigoratingly fascinating at the same time! In all his years, he had never stumbled upon anything like this.
“Oh dear! This marking upon your rear; its so elegant! You – strange colt – what is your special talent?”
Stumbling forward, the Doctor could only blink stupidly and blush softly. What was this girl doing staring at his rump! All he could manage was an embarrassed “E-e-excuse me?” as he stared at his new companion, eyes wide.
Zecora tilted her head, like a curious cat, prodding his side (flank?) gently with a hoof. Twisting his neck around and chasing his tail for a moment, he finally spotted his rear end.
“Oh! Oh my, look at that! It’s a little hourglass, right on my rump! How curious! You say this - no wait, there is another one on my other side! Fascinating! You say these markings show everybody - no, everypony’s special talent? Intriguing!” Tapping his hoofs eagerly together, he giggles at the thought of humans sharing these markings. That would just look plain silly! “But wait! What’s yours, then? It’s just some squiggly-wiggly lines!”
She smirked, trotted forward a few steps, before darting off into the foliage to her left. “You will soon know what I do,” she called out, tail disappearing into the forest. “But first, follow me. And perhaps tell me something I can call you.”
“Oh yes! Right! Names! Always forget that bit. I’m the Doctor.” He happily chirped, following through the dense forest after the exotic zebra.
“The Doctor? What field do you doctor in? Technology, architecture, or maybe medicine?” She broke ‘medicine’ into three syllables, her accent showing as she said ‘cine.’ But despite this, it sounded perfectly normal coming out of her mouth. Well, muzzle. Snout? No, muzzle. Pigs had snouts; ponies had muzzles.
“Well, not exactly any of those. I’ll explain it to you some other time, alright?”
Zecora gave a simple shrug (How in the world did ponies shrug?) pushing a large, stiff, leafy branch out of her way before leading the two into a crossroad of dirt paths, and to the side…a hut?
“I see you are surprised by my home – holds my bed, potions, and a shelf of very special tomes~!” She happily rhymed, opening up the wooden door for her visitor.
Wow. The zebra’s hut was eerily reminiscent of an African witch-doctor’s hut, and an actual witch's den. Glass vials of every color and shape covered every inch of every shelf, which were placed decoratively around the room. How could Zecora even reach those? Flowers of every species, and a few even the Doctor hadn’t seen, were scattered about, either hanging from the ceiling or in grinding bowls, midway crushed into multicolored powders.
“But… how? How could a person- er, pony- possibly carve out a tree? You can’t use tools seeing as you lack opposable digits, or any digits for that matter, and no acid glands. Well, hopefully no acid glands… And your technology seems, from what I’ve seen so far, middle ages at best! How could you possibly…”
He froze, eyes darting to a nearby table and locking there. Half buried under a few flowers and a decently sized leaf. A simple, leather bound book with a simple, unassuming graphic of a cauldron on the front.
His mind went into overdrive.
A book not only means they have these equines have the technological capabilities to create a book, but they have enough knowledge to fill one! Not only that, but a written language! Amazing! Utterly amazing!
The Doctor couldn’t help himself. Scurrying quickly over to the tome, he cleared the table with his muzzle, letting the flowers drop to the floor so he could examine the book. Out of routine, he quickly fished his reading glasses out of his tail, somehow knowing they were there, and popped them on his muzzle. Tail wagging with excitement.
‘Potions and Brews: Master Edition’.
This is amazing. Utterly amazing! How could these ponies make a book with hoofs? And writing! Do they use their mouths?
Barely able to contain his excitement, the Doctor flipped the front cover open, his eyes instantly widening in surprise. Right there, centered on the inside cover, a neat, purple stamp. ‘Property of the Ponyville Public Library’.
“You have a library!?” He squeaked in amazement, eyes darting to his zebra companion. “T-that’s amazing! That’s BLOODY BRILLANT! I have no idea how you could possibly make a book, let alone enough to fill an entire library, but still! Bloody brilliant!” Hopping up and down, giddy with excitement, the Doctor eagerly flipped page after page. Not reading, but admiring.
With surprising speed, Zecora rushed up to the brown colt and snatched the book away from him. “You are excited! That I can tell! But please, please, sit down until I can figure out what makes you unwell!”
“Unwell? Unwell!? This is the best I’ve felt in centuries!” Before she knew what he was doing, the Doctor was halfway out the door. “Point me to Ponyville and I’ll be out of your hair, you bloody brilliant zebra, you!”
With a hint of trepidation and the strange feeling you get when you know you’re making a huge mistake, Zecora pointed a hoof down the road. Not even stopping to close the door, the Doctor started galloping down the road, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.
“….I like him.” The zebra murmured under her breath, smiling ever so slightly. “Even if he seems a little…dim.”