Doctor Whom or ET Shoots and Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Parodication by Adam Roberts Read Free Book Online

ship-steering-wheel-y-thing and hauling it as far to starboard as it would go. Or to port. I’ve never, if I’m being honest, been quite sure which is which when it comes to those two directions.
    ‘Doctor! What are you doing!’
    ‘It’s our only chance. I’ll pull this ship across their bows. Bump into them, if necessary, to attract their attention. ’
    ‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘And by sure I mean, absolutely insane ?’
    ‘Certainly not,’ said the Dr. ‘Drastic measures are called for. The fate of the whole world is in the balance.’
    We all three of us peered through the forward viewing hatch.
    ‘We seem to be powering directly towards the ship now,’ said Linn.
    ‘So we do,’ agreed the Dr. ‘Well, the rudder is hard down, as far as it will go. I suspect that we’ll keep turning, and pass in front of their bows soon.’
    We stared anxiously forward.
    ‘We seem ,’ said Linn again, ‘to be heading straight for them still.’
    ‘Hmm,’ said the Dr. ‘That does seem to be the case.’
    ‘Doctor . . .’ I said, increasingly alarmed. From behind us the ooo aur ! ooo aur ! chanting was becoming ever-louder.
    ‘This Habbakuk-type ship seems to be much less manoeuvrable, ’ said the Dr, in a worried voice, ‘than I had anticipated. Perhaps we should . . .’ and he seized hold of the steery-wheely-circle again. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘This seems to be . . . more . . . sort of . . .uh! uh !’—he was heaving with all his might—‘stuck,’ he concluded.
    We were almost upon the hapless other ship.
    ‘Watch out!’ cried Linn. But it was no use.
    With a massive shuddering cacophonous crunch we collided with the mystery ship, careering into its side in a glancing but nevertheless catastrophic blow. I was knocked from my feet and slipped about in the cold pools of the bridge floor. The whole structure trembled and shook, and a rain of ice chunks plummeted from the ceiling.
    The Dr was supporting himself by clinging onto the big steering wheel. I hauled myself to my feet hand over hand on one of the consoles, barely keeping upright as the bridge shimmied and shook. Straight ahead I saw the black flank of the other craft sliding past us, close enough to touch.
    And then the shuddering stopped, and we were floating free again.
    Linn screamed, pointing to the door.
    Behind us the Cydermen were crowding in at the entrance to the bridge. ‘Oo Aur !’ they bellowed, levelling their guns at us.
    ‘We’re doomed!’ cried the Dr. ‘Hide!’
    Then everything happened very quickly. The three of us jumped behind the steering column. The leading Cyderman fired a volley from his thumb, and it thudded into the floor of the bridge a few metres in front of us, exploding in a violent burst that turned the pools of water to steam, and sent shards and shrapnel of ice spraying everywhere. Then there was a moment’s silence, just enough to hear a deep, distant groan pass through the fabric of the ship, a vast deep sound like a gigantic beast moaning in pain. Then - like a giant diamond crystal struck in exactly the right place by the jeweller’s hammer - the mighty craft began to split. Jarred and sheared by the impact with the mystery ocean liner, this explosion (to the front of and along the dead centre of the craft) proved the tipping point. A crack spread the length of the bridge. In moments it widened, gaping and parting for all the world like a huge grin. ‘Hold on!’ shouted the Dr as the ice groaned and heaved. We clung together, and felt the angle of the bridge floor tip as the left side separated from the right. The oo-aur s of the Cydermen had taken on alarmed tones, and then everything was blotted out by a massive crumbling roaring symphony of structural collapse.
    The floor rocked left, tipped right, rocked left again and finally turned through ninety degrees, sloughing us all off. We fell into the blackness of night, plummeting through cold air until we struck the icy black water with a