The Two(ish) Doctors

by The Minister of Scones

Part Seven: To Catch a Wirdegen

“There!” exclaimed the Doctor triumphantly, driving the final nail home with a hefty thwack from his hammer.

“Where?” asked Derpy, innocently, just coming into the workroom with a tray of cocoa balanced on her back.

The Doctor and Tarrant, still clutching their tools, looked at each other, uncertain.

“Nowhere, really,” explained the Doctor, hesitantly, “just 'there'.”

“Glad to get that clear,” muttered Tarrant, earning an unamused glare from the Doctor, and a giggle from Derpy, who was setting the tray down on the vacant workbench.

“This is no time for frivolity,” he insisted, a little more grumpily than was really necessary. “All three components of my plan are complete.” He glanced over at the three objects that the two stallions' labours had yielded.

“There's just one thing I don't understand, Doctor,” she ventured.

“Oh? What's that?”

“What is it?”

“Well, fair enough. I've only explained three times,” he sighed. “I should've guessed this would happen sooner or later.” He pointed a hoof towards his and Tarrant's first creation, a pair of slender metal rods, about three or four hooves long, each of which tapered towards a point, and was topped with a bluey-purple sphere. “Completely authentic Galgonquan anti-gravity chopsticks,” he boasted, “and I know they're authentic because Tarrant helped make them, and he tells me he is a fully qualified lyrchch… that's Galgonquan for 'chef',” he added, seeing Derpy's confused expression.

Tarrant nodded proudly. “It's actually just standard training, these days,” he admitted, “but I got a triple plus! And won a prize.”

“What was it?” inquired Derpy, a little excited.

“Half-an-ounce of Jethrik.”

“Fancy that,” the Doctor interrupted, “now, if you wouldn't mind? You were the one who wanted the explanation after all...” He raised an eyebrow at Derpy, who hung her head.

“Thank you. Now, these chopsticks will act as bait. Once activated, by means of the external power supply we've built,” – he gestured to the second object, a mess of circuitry contained in a small wooden box – “any watching Wirdegen will sense the use of Galgonquan technology and immediately investigate; probably by teleporting straight here.”

“When he gets here,” continued Tarrant, “he'll see us and try to capture us – but we'll capture him. You'll notice that we've covered the floor of the room with an invisible graphite-based lubricant. Upon arrival, the Wirdegen will make straight for us and slip on the floor, giving us time to dash into the next room – being careful to avoid the invisible tripwire – and to wait in there.” Tarrant led them into the kitchen – being careful to avoid the invisible tripwire – and went on with his explanation. “Triggering this tripwire will pull the support out from this shelf,” – he gestured to what had once been a kitchen shelf, but had since been unattached from the wall and set up on two wooden supports, one of which had one end of the tripwire tied round it – “which will then collapse, allowing this Extremely Large Sack of Flour” – he pointed at an Extremely Large Sack of Flour, which was on top of the shelf – “to fall onto the floor, thus pulling down on the rope I've attached to its neck,” – he indicated with a hoof a long, thick rope, one end of which was tied round the neck of the sack, from whence it led up towards the ceiling, and vanished into an Intricate Pulley System on the ceiling – “which will in turn cause the Intricate Pulley System that we've attached to the ceiling to be galvanised into action, pulling the net” – he pointed towards a large net, which was spread across the floor in front of the kitchen door, and whose four corners were attached to ropes emerging from the Intricate Pulley System – “up and around whoever tripped the wire.”

“Then,” finished the Doctor, leading them back into the workroom – being careful to avoid the invisible tripwire – “we simply knock the bounder on the head, and drop him in the cage.” He affectionately patted the wooden cage with iron bars that he and Tarrant had just finished working on. “The Galgonquan authorities can deal with him later.”

“Um...” Derpy had rather hoped she would understand the explanation a little better now that all the equipment was ready. She hadn't. There were, however, one or two things nagging at her. “What if more than one Wirdegen comes?”

Neither the Doctor nor Tarrant was quite prepared for this question. They looked at each other awkwardly, each willing the other to say something convincing.

“And what if he doesn't trip the tripwire, or the rope snaps, or he moves before the net catches him?”

“...” said Tarrant, helpfully.

“We'll cross those bridges when we come to them,” assured the Doctor, a little impatiently. “Now then, are we ready?”

“It certainly looks like it,” said Tarrant.

“Then plug the chopsticks into the power-generator.”

“Right.”

“Switch on!”

In a Canterlot basement, a rather bored Wirdegen was grumpily stirring his oolag juice, and wishing he was somewhere else entirely. His name was Squeerz – an unpleasant name for an unpleasant fellow, as most, if not all, Wirdegens are. It takes an unpleasant type to resist the benevolent rule of the Galgonquans, after all.

He had been on routine surveillance duty of an area with a two-hundred mile radius for the last two years, and he was sick to death of it. His job – such that it was – was to monitor the area for any traces of Galgonquan technology, and then to swoop down on the users and capture them, with intent to use them as hostages. The problem was that the Galgonquans had long since cottoned on to this little scheme, and had, quite simply, ceased sending operatives of any sort to Equestria. The fact that the unfortunate Squeerz was still under orders to maintain the Wirdegen occupation of this area was a testament to the unbelievable stubbornness of Wirdegen High Command – for so the rag-tag group of drop-outs insisted on referring to their 'central council'.

Despite his unwavering loyalty to his masters, Squeerz was incredibly bored. There had, as mentioned, been no activity in months and months and months. All the while, he had had to live in the body of an ordinary pony, doing ordinary pony things: shopping, cooking, cleaning; even talking to the ponies he despised so much – for Wirdegens hate Equestrians deeply.

And so it was that, when he was rudely awakened from his daydream by the thin, pervasive beeping of the alarm, he was remarkably happy about it. Dashing over to the huge detector array that took up most of his basement wall, he eagerly punched a few buttons on a control panel that had lain unused for longer than he cared to remember. A few presses allowed him to home in on the filthy Galgonquan scum that was using the technology his machines had detected. 'More fool them,' he thought to himself, programming the co-ordinates into his transmat system.

“So… what happens now?” asked Derpy, not unreasonably.

“We wait,” explained the Doctor.

“Oh… good.” She didn't sound very enthusiastic.

“Cheer up, I can tell you one of my stories.”

“Your stories?”

“About my exciting life!”

“Oh… good.” She sounded even less enthusiastic.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was trapped on a planet that was going to explode in two days?”

“Well, we only met each other this morning...”

“Oh, yes, so we did.” The Doctor looked a little confused.

“I'd like to hear the story,” Tarrant interjected.

“Good-o! Now this all happened centuries ago, a couple of millennia in your future. I was...”

“Wait, what?” asked Derpy, who, while not very good at maths, could see a definite logical flaw in that sentence.

“I said...” But Derpy never got to hear the Doctor's explanation, for just at that moment, a harsh, angry buzzing filled the air, and the three turned to its apparent source. The air next to the work-bench had begun to shimmer, to solidify, to shift and take shape, so that before they knew it, a decidedly odd-looking pony was standing before them. And he was very odd-looking.

You see, Wirdegens, as mentioned, are essentially rebellious drop-outs from Galgonquan society. Because of this, they have no legal access to Galgonquan technology, simply stealing what they can, when they can; and, as such, the only cloaking-chamber technology they can use is extremely limited. They tend to come out looking very strange indeed. Squeerz, for instance, had a mane which was somehow striped not vertically, as ponies' manes generally are, but horizontally. To make matters worse, it was coloured in the most vivid shades of purple and yellow imaginable, to not altogether pleasant effect. As to his fur, it was a nauseous lime-green, with… blotches. Brown blotches. Add to this the fact that one of his eyes was blue, the other, red, and you ought to have a complete picture of just how hideous a creature he was. To top it all, he was swathed in technology: a tight, black jumpsuit sported a side pouch akin to a holster, from which protruded the unmistakable barrel of some sort of futuristic gun; his left eye was covered by a round, metal device with a single red light in its centre, which was a 'vision augmenter', which automatically provided him with information on whatever he looked at; and wires appeared to protrude from his head and to lead off to what looked like a computer, which was strapped to his back – in fact a database containing a variety of information that could not possibly be stored in the mind of an ordinary pony.

Thoughts of aesthetics were not, however, paramount in the minds of the would-be Wirdegen-catchers at that particular moment. Acting with one accord, they hurled themselves, one after the other, through the door to the kitchen – being careful to avoid the invisible tripwire – and awaited the inevitable consequences.

True to form, and with a very vicious snarl, Squeerz leapt through the doorway. Leapt quite literally, in fact, bounding through the opening and over the tripwire, proving the inevitable consequences to be entirely evitable.

“Come back here, you scum!” barked Squeerz, glaring round the kitchen, to find Derpy hovering in a corner out of reach, looking absolutely terrified. No matter. His vision augmenter informed him that she was no Galgonquan, and therefore of no consequence. He disregarded her. He did a quick scan of the kitchen using the augmenter. Aha! The Galgonquan was hiding in a cupboard, along with… no, it couldn't be. His database informed him that this was one of a legendary species known as Time Lords, with whose help unimaginable knowledge could be gained. Squeerz licked his lips. “Come out, you cowards!” he sneered. “I know you're in there.”

There was a muffled bump from inside, and a short chattering of voices, too quiet to make out. Squeerz looked on, unimpressed.

Finally, a voice came from inside. “No we aren't.”

“You silly fool. Now he knows we are,” said a second, very similar, voice.

“Well, he does now.”

“You've never been on an adventure before, have you?”

“Not really...”

“I thought as much. You're panicking. Losing your common sense. Amateurs...”

Squeerz cleared his throat.

“Alright,” said the second voice, “we'll come quietly.”

“You speak for yourself.”

“Hush! Do as I say.”

There was a brief period of whispering, and the door opened, to reveal two rather squashed and almost identical brown earth ponies, who rather sheepishly stepped out onto the tiled floor.

“So,” crowed Squeerz, “you thought you could outwit me, Commander Squeerz of the Third Wirdegen Battle Fleet?”

“Commander?” asked the pony on the right – who had been the second to speak, and who was, according to his scanner, the Time Lord – more than a trace of disdain in his already haughty voice. “I wonder how easy a title that was to earn. From what I remember of the Wirdegens, you give out titles as a reward for successfully combating a cold.”

“Or for robbing a defenceless shopkeeper,” the other, the Galgonquan, chimed in.

Squeerz was visibly riled by their comments, and menacingly advanced on them. “Why, you...”

“Now!” the Time Lord shouted, and the pair bolted, dashing around the large kitchen in opposite directions, both headed for the door in the far wall.

Squeerz, overcoming his initial confusion, spun round to face the door. “Stay exactly where you are!” he spat, reaching back to draw his weapon from his holster.

Both the Time Lord and the Galgonquan turned to look at him, just as they reached the door and tried to get through it – completely failing to avoid the invisible tripwire – and got hopelessly stuck. Squeerz looked on, amused, as the Extremely Large Sack of Flour toppled obediently off the shelf, pulling down on the rope. The ponies, meanwhile, pushed and pulled in an attempt to free themselves, and finally both managed to collapse backwards into the kitchen, just as the Intricate Pulley System whirred into action, pulling the net up and around the two dazed ponies, leaving them dangling about twenty hooves* above the kitchen floor.

A smirk playing across his lips, Squeerz crossed the room, obviously with intent to gloat. “Well,” he began, standing below the slowly rotating bundle of net, Time Lord and Galgonquan, “I had a feeling this would be easy, but I had no idea you were going to trap yourselves for me.” His voice was like a horseshoe being scraped down a blackboard. His captives winced, collectively.

“You won't get away with this, you bounder,” remarked the Time Pony, shaking a protruding hoof at the Wirdegen.

“No,” added the Galgonquan, “when I get my hooves on you you'll wish you'd never been born!”

“Oh dear,” mocked Squeerz, “I'd better give in now before you turn the tables on me. I hope you remember your 'with one bound he was free' training.” Already tiring of his prisoners, he drew his gun, aiming it directly up at them. “Better hurry, though. One blast of this and you'll be nicely incapacitated, so that I can take you back to my basemen… I mean, to my base with me. I should warn you that you may lose control of your limbs… permanently.” He grinned, wickedly, and took aim.

Derpy was almost paralysed with fear. Indeed, it was only the most basic muscle memory that was causing her wings to flap, ensuring she stayed airborne and well out of reach. Sure, Ponyville wasn't exactly the safest place in the world to live, so she wasn't entirely unaccustomed to dicing with danger, but this was the first time she'd been properly at the epicentre of a disaster.

She felt so helpless. She was acutely aware that she hadn't been much use up to now: the Doctor and Tarrant seemed to have done all the real work, and she felt awful. She hadn't even dared help with the construction of their various gizmos – not with her track record for woodwork. Now, she was too scared to lift a hoof to save the Doctor and Tarrant, her closest friends in the whole world, and was stuck hovering in the corner, watching as that filthy Wirdegen creature taunted them.

“I had no idea you were going to trap yourselves for me,” the loathsome thing crowed. She didn't even dare speak up for them, didn't dare sneak up behind their captor – though it would have been easy enough.

She struggled to bring the three ponies into focus. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite get her eyes to converge on them. Terrific. Now her friends were about to be brutally maimed, and all she had was the soundtrack. 'There goes my last chance of helping,' she thought to herself, glumly. 'All I can focus on is some stupid rope.' Wait just a minute… the rope! Every time she tried to focus on the ponies, she ended up with a crystal clear image of the rope by which the net bundle containing her friends was suspended from the ceiling. The rope had only been chosen with the weight of one pony in mind, and now, supporting two, it was visibly beginning to fray. In fact, it was quite clearly going to snap in a minute or two, depositing the net's contents on whatever was directly below – exactly where Squeerz was standing.

Unfortunately, she realised, her last traces of hope vanishing, he was already raising his weapon towards them. She could quite clearly see it glinting, and hear his waspish comments. There was no way that rope was going to snap in time. Not on its own, at any rate…

And so it was that Derpy was a great deal more useful than she had ever supposed. Planting her hooves against the wall behind her to gain a little extra force, she hurled herself across the room, straight at the rope. Squeerz, hoof on the trigger, turned at the sudden movement, and followed Derpy's progress with his gaze. Too late, he saw her take a well-aimed gnash at the thin rope with her immaculately brushed teeth. He stood for a fraction of a second, wondering why the angry bundle of earth pony above his head was getting bigger. Then it hit him. Squeerz waved a feeble hoof from under the kicking mass of Doctor and Tarrant, and then succumbed to the swirling blackness of unconsciousness.

*About five feet in human terms.

Author's Note:

Next episode: 'Home Time'

Fun fact: this chapter was meant to be a lot longer, and to be the last one. I've just got a bit stuck, and I didn't want to keep people waiting, so here it is: the first half of the epic conclusion.