Doctor Whooves: Beyond the Nth Dimension

by Glimglam

Chapter 2: Time Waits For No Pony

Chapter 2: Time Waits For No Pony

Somewhere, more than three billion miles away from Equestria, a planet exploded. For the entire universe, it would be a silent death for a world that had long since been devoid of any real intelligent beings; completely insignificant and ignorable. The crust cracked, the mantle heaved, and from within the core a series of detonations tore the planet of Changeoid-9 apart. The largest chunks of the dead planet drifted apart from each other, the last remaining mementos of a world long past the glory of its history…

The Doctor had watched a replay of the planet’s destruction on the TARDIS’s galactic scanner, to confirm it had been destroyed. According to the data, Changeoid-9 had been detonated almost 3 days prior, indicating that the date parameter coils were indeed faulty (as he had suspected). He made a note to repair them before his next voyage.

Twilight had taken a momentary break from cleaning up the TARDIS (putting out the fires, clearing away any debris, the usual) to observe the replay as well. She could only shake her head. “To think that such a huge terrestrial body could be so… fragile,” she whispered. “It’s so… surreal.”

“…” The Doctor shut the recording off, and proceeded to mend a few split wires on the console with the sonic screwdriver. While he did, the Time Lord began to reminisce. “I’ve seen many a planet go like that,” he reflected. “Sometimes it was deserved, and other times… not so much.”

“So the destruction of the changeling’s home planet was deserved, then?” Twilight asked, her tone betraying a hint of accusation. “They try to invade other worlds to find a new home, and that’s why they all have to be destroyed?”

The Doctor seemed to ignore the inquiry at first, but then sighed and candidly informed her, “They didn’t try, they’ve succeeded. Many times, from what I observed and deduced.” Twilight’s look of confusion didn’t go unanswered for long. “You see Miss Sparkle, the Changelings are a parasitic race. They are heavily reliant on other living creatures for their nourishment. You’ve told me about how the Changeling ‘queen’ was feeding off the emotional energy of your brother…”

“Shining Armor,” Twilight murmured, her eyes staring at the floor. As an intellectual, she could already see where this was going.

“Right, him. The guard captain, I think? Anyway, Changeoid-9 technically isn’t the Changeling home planet. Changeoid-9, before they showed up, used to be a normal planet with a flourishing civilization of equines… much like our Equestria. That is, until those insects invaded and bled the whole place dry. In fact, if it weren’t for you and the others stopping them at Canterlot, then this planet may very well have someday become known as Changeoid-10.”

Twilight swallowed deeply, taking in the full implications. The changeling invasion was a lot more serious than she had thought. If they hadn’t beaten Chrysalis and cast away the changeling hoard, then…

“So I hope you’re beginning to understand,” the Doctor concluded, “that those insects were dangerous to leave alive. Changeoid-1 through 8 would have long since been dead rocks by now, so 9 is… or rather, was their last remaining nest.”

There were but a precious few ponies that could give lectures to Twilight and at the same time silence her: Princess Celestia being one of them, and the Doctor more recently being another. Knowing this, the Time Lord was in an interesting position of authority over the unicorn. Even so, Twilight’s vocal exuberance, magical prowess and closeness to the royalty had kept him on a leash; not a short one, mind, but a fairly limiting one.

The Doctor let out a mental sigh, and looked towards the lavender unicorn that was now trying to clean up some detritus knocked loose from the ceiling. She had been a good (that is to say, smart) assistant thus far, though her overtly questioning and inquisitive attitude was somewhat bothersome to the Doctor.

And he also couldn’t understand why she always needed to report everything back to their monarch, Celestia. And on top of that, Twilight needed to know his whereabouts 24/7. The system of this world of order reminded the Doctor a little too much of his dealings with UNIT, or even the old Gallifreyen government…

…and boy, did he resent that.

“Doctor,” Twilight said at last, “is this thing ready to move yet? Everything’s pretty much cleaned up.”

The Time Lord nodded. “Nearly. The date parameter coils need fixing, so that we don’t jettison to another week forward of course. …That, and the bagel-toaster requires an extra fuse.”

“‘Bagel-toaster’? Doctor, be serious!” Twilight snapped, knitting her brow in annoyance. “Just fix the coils so that this thing will go!”

“Alright, alright, don’t get pushy now,” the Doctor muttered, getting onto the floor and peeking under the console. All sorts of loose and frayed wires were dangling about, but what he was concerned about were a set of metal spring-shaped coils, jutting out from the undercarriage of the control panel. The one in the center appeared to have become completely charred, likely due to recently frying.

“Miss Twilight, could you please hand me a spare unobtanium coil?” he asked politely. “It should be in the box marked—”

Twilight let out an impatient huff. “I know where the lousy ‘spare parts’ bin is! I already have it!”

To prove her point, a new coil wrapped in a purple glow was levitated under the console and into the Doctor’s waiting hoof. He fumbled with it for a moment—still not quite that used to hooves instead of hands apparently—before at last replacing it into the slot, swapping it out with the old coil.

“Well, somebody sounds a little grouchy,” the Doctor said teasingly as he affixed the new coil with the sonic screwdriver. “Why the temper, Miss Sparkle?”

“Somepony.”

The Doctor snorted at Twilight’s insistence of the term. He found it terribly amusing at first, but on top of hearing ponies constantly use such a term and himself being corrected so many times on its proper usage had demoted that quirk to become a slight irritant. Twilight was briefly nonplussed by the Time Lord’s display, but shook it off and went on.

“And as I’ve already told you, I haven’t slept in days!” Twilight exclaimed, obviously perturbed. “If you’d not gone and run off, then maybe I wouldn’t have been so worried about you and maybe I would have slept better!”

The Doctor climbed back out from below the TARDIS console, then turned to Twilight with a raised eyebrow. “You, Miss Twilight? Worried about me? I recall you saying to me, a long time ago, that I could so easily take care of myself, and you would never be tense in my absence… and now, you renounce that claim?”

“…!” Twilight slapped a hoof over her mouth, and anxiously glanced from left to right. “Uh… of course not! I wasn’t worried in the sense that you’d die or anything, I was just… annoyed.” A light-bulb flashed over her head when the excuse struck her. “…Yeah, that’s it! I was annoyed that you were gone for so long, without proper supervision!”

“Hahahah…” The Doctor shook his head and gave a shrewd chuckle. “Miss Sparkle… did you miss me? Really?”

Twilight stammered wildly for a moment, trying and failing to bring up the right words to say in her defense. “W-w-well… ‘Miss you’ is a pretty ambiguous term… By ‘miss you’, do you mean simply acknowledging your absence? Or… the other meaning, like a ‘longing’ for you to return?”

“The other meaning,” the Doctor said, his bemused expression not faltering. He was determined to extract all the satisfaction as he could from seeing the brainy unicorn squirm.

“Th-then no. I didn’t miss you.” Much. The unicorn had come distressingly close to letting that last word slip out. Nonetheless, her denial didn’t seem to fully convince the Doctor (if his knowing smile was anything to go by). Twilight chastised herself for displaying her feelings too much; she had become a little bit fond of the Doctor, eccentric and exasperating though he was.

The Doctor kept chuckling to himself, now focusing on the control console and its many blinking lights. Now that the wiring was mostly fixed, the coils replaced, and the worst of the fires put out, the TARDIS should have been at least partly serviceable now. There were a few nicks and dings here and there, but they were superficial at best.

Now was the moment of truth.

“Alright, I think we’re ready to go,” the Doctor proclaimed, clapping his hooves together.

Twilight simply muttered something along the lines of, “Finally…”

He set to work turning dials and flipping switches on the console. “All it’ll take is a quick geographic adjustment… here, and some power re-routing… there… and Geronimo, we’re off!”

The equine Time Lord flipped the dematerialization switch, and the whole TARDIS began shuddering as the grinding and screeching noises filled the air. In the center of the round console, within a large glass tube, a setup of around half-a-dozen glass-like rods began oscillating up and down, each motion accompanying the ever-present sounds.

“Shouldn’t even take a second,” the Doctor said quickly, observing the console and tube intently. “I set the coordinates to the outskirts of Sweet Apple Acres; should be well out of the way, at least it’s a place where more permanent fixing can be done. Once her system reboots, we’ll be on our way.”

Twilight acknowledged this with a subdued nod. “As long as this machine isn’t displayed in front of the whole town. I’m surprised that everypony took it so well once they found out it was harmless.”

“Well, they must have seen stranger things then, have they not?”

“Well, on top of Pinkie Pie, and the recent Changeling invasion… I suppose they have.” An afterthought occurred to Twilight. “By the way… how do you plan on paying for the fountain you destroyed? The last time I checked, you don’t even have a single bit to your name.”

“Ah… well… see, about that…”

Just as the Doctor was about to respond to that in proper, a queer noise both interrupted and startled him. PHBBBBT! It was the sound that sounded suspiciously like somepony sitting on a common whoopee cushion. Both occupants flushed bright red at the sound of it, and Twilight had quite a bit of trouble not bursting into mad giggles. The scraping sound and blinking lights had both stopped as well, and the tube in the center seemed almost ‘stuck’ in position.

Upon regaining his composure (no thanks to Twilight’s displays of mirth), the Doctor’s expression became one of concern. “Oh dear… That’s never happened before,” he said quietly.

Twilight was still on the verge of giggles, but managed to ask, “What does that sound mean?”

“It means… well, I don’t know what it means,” the Time Lord admitted, looking over the data on the TARDIS’s computer. “…According to this, the dematerialization process hadn’t been initiated properly… Well, blast! We’re still where we started! What in Gallifrey is wrong with this? There’s more than enough power left…”

“Uh…” Twilight wasn’t quite sure what to say. She’d forgotten about that giggle-inducing sound by now; an immovable time machine was a considerably greater concern at present. “What’s wrong with it?”

The Doctor more-or-less ignored the unicorn—he didn’t have much of a clue himself, honestly—and instead gave the console a hard smack with his hoof. He did it again several times, but it soon became obvious that a little percussive maintenance wasn’t the answer. He flipped the dematerialization switch several times, but the TARDIS didn’t even start to go anywhere. “Agh, this is so frustrating…”

Twilight glanced up at the flashing computer monitor hung from the control room’s ceiling (the Doctor hadn’t noticed it yet), and unconsciously read what was displayed. “Umm… ‘Primary Temporal Generator is offline’…? What does that mean?”

“Say wha’ now?” The Doctor followed Twilight’s gaze up to the monitor, and realization dawned upon him. “Oh, that. …Huh. How ‘bout that. For a moment, I thought it was just the Eye of Harmony starting to leak again, but that… that’s easily fixable.”

“Eye of… Harmony?” Twilight’s curiosity was suddenly piqued.

The Doctor waved a dismissive hoof. “Eye of Harmony, you know, the power generator for the TARDIS,” he explained. “If it were left open and exposed for too long, it would drain the machine of energy so it can’t be used… and also bring about the end of the known universe. Had a problem with that quite a few years ago, but it’s fine now.” The Time Lord idly coughed. “Anyway, the PTG just needs to be juiced-up again. Come along, I’ll show you.”

“Alright…?”

With some slight hesitation, Twilight followed the Doctor as he led her deeper into the confines of the TARDIS, away from the control room. She couldn’t help but wonder about this so-called ‘Eye of Harmony’, for some reason…

…And she certainly couldn’t help but wonder why she was following a pony that actually blew up a planet.

>~===DW===~<

The lunch went about as well as could be expected. Derpy Hooves, in all of her near-sighted glory, had accidentally toppled over all the tables in the restaurant’s courtyard while trying to navigate her way to the table that Carrot Top and Colgate were situated at. By the time the gray pegasus did make it there, she had caused enough damage that a passing waiter ‘kindly’ advised them to leave.

Oh well. At the very least, they still managed to leave with their food. That counts for something, right?

“You are so clumsy, Derpy,” Carrot Top muttered as they left, her tone suggesting a genuine attempt at derision.

Derpy hung her head. “Sorry… I just don’t know what went wrong…”

Carrot Top was about to point out that she always used that same excuse every time there was a problem that she caused, but instead settled for an annoyed sigh.

“Well, er… at least I didn’t smash up the fountain!” the pegasus defended, trying to bring up the incident they had witnessed earlier.

“True, I guess. The Doc and his weird machines… I don’t think I’ll ever understand him.” Carrot Top shrugged. “Oh well.”

The earth pony looked to her other side, and noticed that Colgate seemed to be staring off into space again. “Hey, Colgate? Are you still with us? You’ve been awfully quiet lately…”

The blue and white-maned unicorn suddenly snapped to attention. “H-huh?! Oh! Oh…” She offered a nervous chuckle. “Y-yeah. I was just…thinking about some stuff. It’s no big deal.”

Carrot Top stared at her friend with an unconvinced stare. “Is this about that box that the Doc crashed into the square?”

“…Yeah.”

“Col, you’ve got to get your head out of the clouds. That’s Derpy’s domain.”

“Yep,” Derpy piped cheerfully. “My domain! So stay out!”

Colgate sighed. “It’s just all that stuff I overheard… That blue box, he said it’s a time machine! As in, goes to the future and stuff! Isn’t that incredible?”

“…” Carrot Top rolled her eyes. “Okay, look, I know that the Doctor goes around claiming that it’s a time machine, and it’s ‘bigger on the inside’, and blah blah blah… but whenever I ask Twilight later on, she denounces all of that as hullabaloo. Who do you think I’d believe more?”

“But Twilight said it was a time machine too! Didn’t you hear anything about what those two were talking about?”

“You were eavesdropping on them, too? Gosh Colgate, you really are nosy…”

“You’re missing the point!” Colgate was on the verge of outright screaming. The earth pony flinched; never had she seen the unicorn so riled up about something. “The point is, there’s somepony else out there that might know something about my special talent! That ‘Doctor’… he has the exact same cutie mark as me!” She indicated the hourglass mark on her flank.

“So your special talent is time?” Derpy asked, trotting up to examine the mark more closely. “That’s so cool! A time-traveling pony! And she’s my friend, too! Yay!”

”There are no time-traveling ponies!” Carrot Top snapped, prompting Derpy to shrink away with surprise. “That Doctor is really weird, yes, but I sincerely doubt that his box can go into the future or whatever. Okay, sure, it can fly around and crash, but time travel? No way.”

Colgate raised an eyebrow questioningly. “B-but what about that time that Twilight said she was visited by her future self to warn of a disaster?”

“Which never came,” Carrot Top pointed out. “She might have been lying, delusional, or just plain crazy. Remember that incident with the doll?”

“Ohh… Don’t remind me,” Derpy whined, recalling how stupid she looked wrestling with the mayor herself just to try and get at that ugly-looking doll. “…Stupid spell.”

The blue unicorn heaved a sigh. Carrot Top would never understand. She’s a sensible, down-to-earth kind of mare that manages to keep her hooves on the ground. And with that rational way of thinking, came with it a healthy dose of doubt towards anything considered “too bizarre”. Colgate knew that further discussion would not bear fruit. (Or vegetables, for that matter.)

The three of them continued walking in silence down the streets of Ponyville. Along the way, Colgate happened to notice a filly sulking somewhere nearby. She was curious as to why this foal was upset, and motioned to her friends to wait while she checked on her.

“Hi there,” Colgate said politely, putting on her most sincere and comforting smile. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“M-m-my favorite t-toy b-b-broke,” the filly cried, her voice cracking through her sobs. Her sad gaze turned to the doll at her hooves, which was snapped totally in half. “I was p-p-playing with it… a-and then I-I d-d-dr-dropped it… and n-now it b-b-broke…”

Colgate looked at the broken pony doll on the ground. It was made out of a delicate ceramic, so there was no normal way of fixing it. However, the unicorn knew of the perfect way to repair it. “Don’t worry; I can fix it for you easily.”

“R-r-really?”

“Yep! Just hold on one second…”

The unicorn took a step backwards, and started to focus. Her horn began to glow as the toy was suddenly wreathed in a dull blue light. Colgate pushed herself further, and the glow started to change; it began to coalesce into a sparkling orange-yellow. The filly’s crying ceased, and instead began to watch the scene unfold with wonder.

Rising into the air slightly, the toy’s broken halves reconnected with each other and instantly fused. Colgate finally released the hold of her magic, and the toy gently lowered back to the ground, perfectly mended. There wasn’t even a crack where the ceramic doll had been broken.

“W…wow!” the foal exclaimed, taking hold of her prized possession and hugging it. “You fixed my Pretty Pony! Thank you, miss!”

Colgate smiled sweetly. “You’re very welcome, little filly. Take good care of it from now on, okay?”

The filly nodded vigorously. “I-I will! Th-thank you!”

As the unicorn trotted back to her friends, she was greeted by a single question, courtesy of Carrot Top: “What the hay did you do?”

“Fixed that foal’s toy,” Colgate replied simply. “And I did it in my own special way.”

The carrot farmer rubbed the back of her neck with uneasiness. “Um, well… I have to say, that was really nice of you… but… how?”

Colgate raised an eyebrow with amusement. “Oh, I would tell you… but you’ve already told us that you don’t believe in time-traveling ponies. I’d be wasting my time explaining.”

As the blue-and-white-maned unicorn turned to continue walking, Carrot Top managed to ask, “B-but what does that mean?! Col, are you trying to mess with my head again?”

“Mmm… possibly,” Colgate replied curtly, not even turning to look at the earth pony mare.

Carrot Top and Derpy exchanged a puzzled and slightly worried look with each other. Neither of them seemed to have much else to say. Well, except for Derpy, who said but a solitary word that summed up her current desires quite well: “Muffins.”

“…Ah, um… muffins… okay,” Carrot Top replied, managing a strained smile. “B-but what about the food we already paid for at the restaurant before we had to… ugh… leave?”

“Dessert?”

“…Okay, fine. Muffins for dessert. Hey, Col?”

Colgate didn’t react to the call, aside from a wayward twitch of the ear.

“I suppose we’re getting… muffins. You don’t have to, but… if you want to come with us…”

“…”

“Look, I know you’re not that happy about the way I think about all of this ‘time travel’ nonsense, but that’s just how I feel. I understand your feelings as well, but really, you have to know how crazy that concept sounds.”

“…What will it take to make you believe?”

Carrot Top was a bit taken aback from the sudden question. “C-come again?”

“I said, ‘what will it take to make you believe’?”

“I… I don’t know… maybe some proof, or something? I honestly don’t see where you’re going with this…”

Colgate finally turned back to look at Carrot Top. A slightly hopeful smile was gracing her features. “…If… if I were to find proof that the blue box the… ‘Doctor’ has is a real time machine… then would you be willing to take back everything you said?”

“…” Carrot Top fought back the urge to scoff—it would’ve been quite rude—and instead decided to humor her friend. “…Alright, we have a deal. But it should be solid evidence, like… um… something. If it’s really a time machine, then go back and grab some book from 1000 years ago. And, uh… if you can’t offer any proof, then… then you have to stop thinking about this time travel claptrap for good.”

The blue unicorn grinned widely. “Okay, deal! That’ll be easy!”

Carrot Top blinked. She hadn’t expected her friend to take that challenge so seriously.

“Oh… but…” Colgate’s smile slowly drooped. “I wonder if he would even let me use it…”

The earth mare waved a hoof dismissively. “How about we not worry about this now, huh? The day is still young, and… well, we still have lunch to attend to.”

“…Alright,” Colgate conceded, and sighed. She remained hopeful that the ‘wager’ was legitimate, and that Carrot Top would remain true to her word. “Hey, where is our food, anyway?”

“I gave it all to Derpy, so she’s carrying it.”

As if on cue, the mailmare flipped open one of her saddlebags, and beamed as a pair of takeout bags from the restaurant were visible inside them. “Safe and sound!” she cheered.

“Uh, Derpy…” Colgate tilted her head wonderingly. “Aren’t those the bags that you carry your mail deliveries in?”

“Uh-huh!”

“…So, what about the letters and packages you had in them?”

“What about them?”

“Don’t they need to be… uh, delivered?”

“Already done that! I did it before meeting you guys at the restaurant! That waiter was mean though…”

Carrot Top blinked. “That… was fast. You were only gone for four minutes.”

The gray pegasus grinned ear-to-ear. “I was fast!” she said simply. Say what you will about Derpy, but she did her job and she did it pretty darn well. Clumsiness aside, she really could do things when she set her mind on it.

“Huh, maybe she traveled through time?” Colgate proposed in a playfully mocking tone, earning herself a glare from Carrot Top. “Just kidding. Sorry.”

“Don’t… don’t do that,” the earth pony muttered. She let out a sigh. ‘What I wouldn’t give for something that could possibly intervene at this point.’

KER-BOOOOOM!

'Oh, that's convenient.'

The sound of a distant explosion echoed down the street. Our trio of mares jumped at the sound. Nearby ponies wandering the street also cried out with surprise and turned towards where the sound came from.

The market square.

Colgate’s pupils dilated with shock. The square… that’s where the box had crashed! Had something gone wrong? What about Twilight, or that Doctor? Weren’t they…

“Oh no…”

>~===DW===~<

”…Eh?”

The Doctor stood up straight and looked around the area curiously. He didn’t know what it was, but if anything was certain, he definitely felt something. ‘How peculiar. I haven’t felt anything like that for… a long time…’

“Uh, Doctor?”

Twilight’s voice was enough to break the Time Lord out of his stupor. “A-ah, right, what is it?”

“Are you going to fix the thing or not?” the unicorn asked, although the question was more rhetorical than anything else. “You just stopped for a moment and sort of stared off into space.”

“Right, er… sorry about that. I… I just thought I felt something anomalous.” He quickly shook his head to dismiss the forthcoming questions from his assistant/supervisor. “It’s nothing, actually. Pay no mind to it. Now, as for the PTG…”

The Doctor, with sonic screwdriver in hoof, refocused his attention back on the cone-shaped device before him. The Primary Temporal Generator, as it was known, appeared to be offline. Well, mostly. It occasionally glowed, or made an odd distorted warbling, but for the most part remained dormant. Rarely did it ever require repair, but on the odd occasion it would require a quick nudge or two.

Raising the sonic screwdriver to bear, the Doctor aimed it at the center of the device, and turned it on. The end flashed bright blue, accompanied by a pitched whirring sound. He sustained this for a moment, and then lowered the device to check on the generator.

It still wasn’t working.

“Well. Guess that didn’t work.” The Doctor shrugged, and stowed away the pen-like device. “I’m out of ideas.”

Twilight perked up at once, distress evident on her face. “Wait… what?! It still won’t work?!”

“Yes, unfortunately. Looking at it now,” the Doctor clarified warily, “it seems that the generator is a tad…” He put a hoof on its surface, and quickly yanked it away. “…hot. Overheated, it appears. It would need some time to cool down. Huh, might make sense… this place was all ablaze earlier…”

“Overheated…? Aw, that’s just great!” Twilight exclaimed, her voice laced with copious amounts of sarcasm. “Now what are we supposed to do? We can’t just let this thing sit here in the middle of the market square! What if somepony tries to—?”

The Doctor interrupted the unicorn with a hearty, amused (and slightly condescending) chuckle. “Hah hah hah… Oh come on now, Miss Twilight… Don’t you think that the TARDIS is better designed than that? Only I have the keys to the TARDIS. Nobo—nopony else will ever be able to get in, so long as the door is closed. “

“Then how did that changeling stow away in here, like you told me a dozen times already?”

“Eh… minor misjudgment on my part…” He coughed. “Anyhow, haven’t you also noticed that most ponies tend to avoid the TARDIS? There’s a psychological modification field surrounding her at all times. Anybody… anypony else will spare it no more than a passing glance in most circumstances.”

“But what about when it crashed into the square? Everypony couldn’t take their eyes off it!”

“Well, the field was still able to keep everyone away from it at least, right? By the time everything is sorted out, they will be bound to forget it.”

Twilight sighed. Things weren’t going as planned. It was just one crazy scheme and scenario after another… and she was sick and tired of it. “Is there no way to get that thing fixed quickly?”

“Well…” The Doctor idly drew a circle on the floor. “I suppose it’s possible to cool it down artificially… Though, that might be problematic, as any contact with water or other chilled solvent would cause the generator to short…”

“Will magic do?”

”I… ah… I’ve never tried that myself, for obvious reasons… But, I don’t think that would work either…”

Twilight huffed, and took a step closer to the PTG. “I may as well give it a shot, anyway. I know an ice-wind spell that should cool down the generator in a flash.”

The Doctor bit his lower lip fretfully. “B-but Miss Sparkle, the TARDIS was never designed to interface with any form of this ‘magic’ energy… I-I don’t think that this would be such a good idea…”

He was more-or-less ignored, as Twilight was already beginning to focus her magic. “What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked, not concerned about the fact that the phrase she just used was rather popular in the ‘famous last words’ department. “It’s just a simple cold spell. Where’s the danger in that?”

“…Hypothermia?” the Doctor offered, chuckling nervously. His look turned grave after a moment as he dispensed with the humor. “Look here, Miss Twilight Sparkle. I’m aware of the power at your disposal, being a unicorn and all, but I must implore you to reconsider. Think of the possible ramifications of this!”

“Doctor, will you just calm down for a moment,” Twilight near-demanded, her horn beginning to glow with magical energy. “I got this. All that needs doing is a cool-down, right? And besides, this thing can’t stay displayed in front of the whole town forever!”

“It won’t, as long as you just trust me! The ponies here are harmless, as far as I can tell, so there will be no danger!”

“Sorry, but I can’t take that risk.”

“Miss Twilight…” The Doctor lowered his voice, making it sound like more of an indictment. “I fear that I must call your reasons for your haste into question.”

“W-what?” Twilight’s focus had faltered, but she was still readying the spell. She threw a quick glare at the Doctor. “You don’t trust me? Dear Celestia, how did I see that one coming?”

“Oh, stuff the sarcasm!” the Time Lord snapped, starting to lose his composure. Twilight might be putting the entire town at risk—inadvertently maybe, but nevertheless acting careless—and that knowledge alone was enough to make the Doctor antsy. And her attitude wasn’t helping matters. “It’s not that I don’t trust you… I don’t trust your reasons!”

Twilight rolled her eyes and snorted. “You don’t even understand my reasons anyway!” she yelled, her magic building up to critical levels thanks to her focus becoming detached. “It’s not like Princess Celestia hates you personally or anything, but she told me herself that she DOESN’T like that fact that you can go hoofin' around with space and time itself without anypony’s consent!”

The Doctor stopped, and his jaw fell slack. “Wha’…?”

“And another thing!” The light from her horn was steadily getting brighter. “I was only pretending to be your little ‘assistant’ in the first place because Princess Celestia asked me to do so! I honestly don’t even care, but you, sir, are CUH-RAZY! I don’t know HOW I put up with you all these past weeks! If it wasn’t for the fact that I liked you, then you wouldn’t catch me dead in this rust bucket!!”

“…” The Time Lord was beyond words. He’d pushed Twilight to her breaking point, and the sudden revelation of everything that spilled out of her mouth shocked him. Sure, he knew that the monarchy didn’t trust him, and vice versa… but… their princess had placed Twilight as his assistant… and as her spy?

A spy… He wondered why he didn’t consider the possibility of it before. The nagging questions and inquiries… the backseat driver attitude on those rare occasions she would come along on a voyage… the constant need to stay in contact with the monarchy… all of it made sense. She was reporting every word of it to her princess. He was being watched and tracked the entire time. His own self-declared second home… didn’t trust him. Him, the Gallifreyen Time Lord that had saved countless worlds and battled innumerable aliens. Him, a being that has lived for over a millennium, older than the princesses themselves even (older than Equestria, for that matter!), over a course of twelve separate lives. And they didn’t trust him for a single, solitary second.

So this is how it was it felt to be betrayed. Not the first time it had happened to him or anything, but… to trust in a world and its creatures so deeply and care about them… only to have them turn their backs on you… it was indescribable.

…And…what was this about ‘liking him’ again?

Twilight, after concluding her rant (still oblivious to the fact she was still charging a spell), finally took notice of the Doctor’s aghast expression and the words she had just spoke. Her face said it all; she had made a terrible err in judgment. “N-no… I did… I didn’t mean to…”

“…So this was all just a setup,” the Doctor said with hollow emotion, his face frozen with shock. “Everything I did… everything I’ve done for Equestria… was all for nothing.”

“N-no! Th-that’s not true!!” The light from Twilight’s horn was almost blinding now.

“Miss Twilight…” He gently shook his head. “No. Twilight Sparkle. All this time… you were spying on me. A spy. In my TARDIS. For the. Second. Time. In. A. Row.”

“I’m n-not a spy! I’m not! Th-the princess, she…!”

The Doctor looked at the floor. “I trusted you, Twilight Sparkle. I took you in as my assistant. And even then, you were playing me like a harpsichord.”

“I-I can explain!” Twilight cried, likely ready to start another rant in her defense, but then noticed that he magic was getting a little… out of control. “Aaahhhh! Oh no! I can’t stop it!!”

The Doctor’s feelings of betrayal suddenly came into conflict with that of extreme worry. Part of him wanted to start tearing into her verbally, while another was more concerned about the imminent danger of a second explosion in as many hours. Another part of him wondered if the bagel toaster would ever get around to being fixed.

Yet another part was concerned for Twilight’s safety.

But before he could do anything, the magic could no longer be contained. The light that had collected at the end of Twilight’s horn radiated outward, a stream of blue-white ice energy connecting with the cone-shaped generator as it did. An arc of almost lightning-like magic was formed between the two points as the energy continued flowing outward. And, curiously, all of this was accompanied by the sound of a howling arctic blizzard.

The Doctor’s vision was flooded with whiteness, and all of a sudden he was feeling extremely cold. Twilight hadn’t been joking when she said she knew a cold spell. But this was clearly a lot more powerful than what was intended. If so… then… that was bad. Quite bad. Terrible, actually. The Time Lord was none too keen on turning the TARDIS into an icebox.

“TWILIGHT!” he shouted, but his voice was quickly drowned out in the howl of the wind. Wind? Where ever did that come from? Ack, ask the questions later! Stopping coldness is top priority! “TWILIGHT, STOP THIS BLIZZARD! YOU’LL FREEZE US BOTH SOLID!”

He heard what sounded like some vestige of a reply, but it was barely audible in the artificial storm. All of a sudden, the small PTG chamber they were both in seemed like an endless wasteland of snow. Of course, it wasn’t actually possible for that to be true, but if you could see nothing but white in every direction and feel minus thirty centigrade wind lash against your body, then what would you think?

And then, a different sound.

KER-BOOOOOM!!

An explosion, obviously. And a very close-by one, to be exact. It didn’t sound like a conventional blast—and it certainly wasn’t a convectional one—but it was blast nevertheless. Where exactly, he was not sure. Nor was he aware of whatever kind of damage had occurred. But then the explosion was followed up by a much more familiar and welcoming sound.

Wheeeeeeen… wheeeeeen… wheeeeeeen…

The Doctor’s reaction timing was slowed, due to the extreme temperatures currently being experienced, but upon realizing what the oh-too-lovely sound was, his mood picked up a little. ‘Well, how about that!’ he thought. ‘The Dematerialization process started by itself! I suppose Twilight’s cold spell worked, despite the… exuberance in its deployment.’

Wheeeeeeen… wheeeeeeeeeen… wheeeeeeeeeeeeen…

As the pitch of the sound rose with every other iteration, the whiteness finally began to fade away. The first thing the Doctor could see again was the lights of the Primary Temporal Generator flashing and glowing wildly. Strangely, the arc of blue-white energy still seemed connected to it… and to Twilight. He couldn’t quite see Twilight however; the fog had yet to fully dissipate.

It soon became clear that there may have actually been a full season of an indoor winter (over the course of only two minutes!). As the fog slowly faded, along with the last wisps of wind, the Doctor noted that he was standing in at least three inches of snow. Ice and frost coated the walls of the chambers, almost painting the entire room a white and blue color (though no icicles hung from the ceiling). Where the moisture came from to produce all of this snow and ice, he didn't know. It was still positively freezing in there, as evidenced when the Doctor’s exhales of breath produced a white fog to appear and disappear. Thank goodness for his fur coat. It was one of the benefits of being an equine earth pony; they could handle this sort of thing by nature.

The sounds of the TARDIS’s dematerialization and rematerialization came and went, and what was left of the time machine's interior once the fog had cleared was as the Doctor had feared: an icebox. ‘Well, bugger. It will take me days to get this place cleaned up…’ He paused, and an afterthought occurred to him. ‘…Actually, no. This is rather convenient! If the PTG room were kept cold… then I’d never have to worry about the unit overheating! Brilliant!’

The Doctor spent a moment admiring the room and nodding to himself as he considered the idea. It was certainly a lot cheaper than installing a complex coolant system, and required less maintenance. What a great idea! He allowed himself a smile when he remembered whose idea it was… but it disappeared just as quickly. “Twilight…”

Turning back towards the PTG, which stood in the center of the room as it always had, the Doctor noticed that the arc of white lightning had vanished. It was almost too quiet in the room now. What happened to Twilight?

“T-Twilight? Are… are you there?”

He got no reply.

“Twilight! Miss Sparkle! Are you there?”

Still nothing. The Doctor ground his teeth with worry. Where was Twilight? One moment she was there, standing in front of the machine and ready to cast that spell… and now… there wasn’t anypony there.

…Well, that wouldn’t be right to say. There was somepony there, but the Doctor hadn’t thought that it could ever be Twilight… at least, not at the moment.

Lying on her side, unconscious, was a small, purple-coated unicorn filly. Her mane was purple, with a pink stripe running through it. The manestyle itself was distinctly familiar. The only difference from the mare that was once in the filly’s place is that this filly lacked a cutie mark.

You know that saying, “You’re never getting any younger”? Well… forget about that.

“…Oh dear… This is… problematic…”

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