Doctor Whom or ET Shoots and Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Parodication Read Online Free PDF

up everything in sight . . . the worry is that they might be German agents, dressed up in some odd silver armour. They may be trying to seize the ship, to get hold of our military technology for the good of the Kaiser you see. We really can’t allow that to happen. Our problem ,’ he went on, a little sorrowfully, ‘is that I can’t scuttle this ship. Normally of course I’d scuttle my ship to prevent her falling into enemy hands. But this ship is unscuttleabubble. I mean, of course, unscutable. Un,’ he said, moving slowly through the syllables, ‘Scut. Tle. A. Ble.’
    ‘I see your dilemma,’ said the Dr.
    There was another explosion, somewhere below us. ‘We’d better get down there,’ said Antenealle, finishing his tea and plonking the mug back next to the brass urn. ‘Come on!’
    The Dr made as if to follow, but Linn grabbed his elbow. ‘You’re not going after him are you?’ she hissed. ‘Didn’t you hear what happened to his men?’
    ‘Of course,’ the Dr hissed back. ‘I feel certain that these strange silver men represent a pretty major grammatical error in the fabric of spacetime. Don’t you? Do you really think that nineteen-twelve Earth should have creatures like that running around?’
    ‘I suppose not,’ said Linn, sulkily.
    He walked smartly off the bridge; and, after exchanging a wary look, Linn and I followed.
     
The four of us went down some ice-carved staircases, and into a long corridor. The sound of explosions continued. These were not long-drawn out explosions, but short snappy blasts: not bo-oo-oom ! Not even boom ! boom !, but more like bom ! bom !, or perhaps bum-bum-bum !
    No. On second thoughts, that last one looks rather stupid, written down.
    Anyway, let’s just say that we could hear explosions. Interspersed amongst those percussive noises was the sound of gunfire, sharp and abrupt as the breaking of old bones: rat , rat-tat , rat-tat . Yes, that’s good. That’s exactly what the gunfire sounded like.
    ‘We’re definitely moving towards it,’ said Linn, nervously. ‘Those gunshots and explosions. They’re getting louder.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘If all your men are dead, Captain, what are these silver men shooting at?’
    ‘Just at things in general I think,’ said Antenealle. ‘They don’t seem too particular. They may just really enjoy shooting.’
    The corridor opened into a wide ice cavern, a large groined space. Which is to say shaped (perhaps I should add for the sake of clarity) like a female rather than a male groin. Which, I mean, is what I’ve always assumed the phrase ‘groined arches’ to refer to. Unless I’ve got the wrong end of the stick there. That’s very possible, you know.
    ‘Ah,’ said Antenealle. ‘ There they are!’ He sounded pleased. Pulling off one of his mittens and unbuttoning his holster, he drew his gun.
    Directly in front of us was a rank of silvery, gleaming, robotic men. Nothing could be imagined that looked less like ghosts than these figures. They were the most solidly metallic and material fellows I ever saw. And what’s more, they were marching slowly towards us.
    ‘Tally ho!’ said Antenealle. He levelled his pistol and fired three shots in quick succession. Then he started running directly towards the silvery men. There were pinging noises as his bullets ricocheted off their metallic chests.
    One of these silver warriors lifted his hand, and a blast of smoke and a blaze of noise slammed Antenealle off his feet. He landed on his back with a large, gooily tomato-coloured hole evident in his chest.
    ‘Ooo,’ said the Dr. ‘That’s not good.’
    ‘Is he dead?’
    ‘Dead right. Perhaps a strategic retreat . . .’ suggested the Dr. We turned to return, back the way we had come, but more of the silver men were visible coming along the corridor.
    ‘Trapped!’ cried the Dr. ‘Quick!’
    The three of us ducked into the left of the wide ice-chamber, passing in front of the row of advancing