Doctor Who/Big Nate fusion fanfiction
by Gary Kleppe

Doctor Who was created by Sydney Newman, C. E. Webber, and Donald Wilson, and developed by too many other talented folk to name. Big Nate was created and written by Lincoln Peirce. This is fan material written and freely distributed solely for the enjoyment of other fans. I do not claim ownership of nor legal right to use either series nor their associated trademarks.

All honest feedback is welcomed and encouraged.

A World Of His Own

Okay, I think, let's not panic just yet. Chadap still has a pulse. His hearts are both beating. He's still alive, but he's in a world of his own. The house is secure, but Mister Brain has left the premises.

I notice Niblosky behind me. "What happened?" he asks.

"Don't know. An accident, maybe?" Let's not mention whose dumb idea it was for Chadap to be practicing here unsupervised. The kiddie equipment that they give us is supposed to be absolutely safe, but news flash: not everything we're told is true.

"I'll go get help," Niblosky says. A moment later, he returns with Mr. Asornek, and I go through the obligatory explanation again. No, we don't know what happened; I just found him like this.

"Should we get him into the infirmary?" I ask.

Both of them shake their heads no. "You're supposed to leave them connected to the machine when this happens," Mr. Asornek says. "His mind might still be in there somewhere." Oh, so this has happened to people before, has it? "I'll put in a call and the central office will arrange for someone to come down here as soon as possible."

"So Chadap has to stay here overnight?"

"I'm afraid so. I'll set up a monitor that will notify us if he wakes up on his own."

I lift Chadap up back into his chair. At least I can do that much for him.


By lunch the next day, the news about Chadap has obviously gotten out to the whole school. I listen to various conversations as I pass tables and they're all about him.

Or most of them are. I hear Ginahepiltona talking with one of the girls from her clique. "We need to write up another list of nominees for the seventh seat," she says.

Oh yeah, student government. I stop and pretend that I'm looking over the lunch menu. I want to hear this. I remember reading about this on the school's online discussion forum. Gi and her cronies had had a majority on the student council pretty much since she and I got here. But earlier this year they got caught using their positions to procure rare treats and other stuff for themselves. That's not against the rules, but it pissed off the student body enough that they unelected two of her people. So now Alabellaplunkett from the senior class had a majority of her people on board, or would have if her choice for council president hadn't suddenly resigned for "personal reasons," which is political speak for "I don't want to talk about it."

So, three of Gi's people on the council, and three of Al's. The council is supposed to elect its own president from its members, but they can't, because each side hates the other's guts and none of them are going to vote for someone from the other side. And they're supposed to fill the seat vacated by the former president, but they can't agree on who to pick for that either. One side writes up a list of people and gives it to the other side who chuckles and rips it up, then follows through with its own list that the other side laughs at, rinse and repeat, over and over. It's a total air shuttle wreck, fascinating to watch as long as you're at a safe distance.

"Who should be on the list?" the other girl asks.

"Oh no," Gi says, her voice cracking like she thinks she has something really funny to say. " I don't think Who should be on the list." They both giggle.

Oh, fuh-nee. That's always the way it goes: you come up with something that's good for a laugh once, and then other people take it and use it as if they came up with it, and they use it over and over to the point where it isn't even amusing anymore.

"But wait," Gi's friend says, leaning in closer, but still talking loud enough to hear, which is good. If I'm going to be involved in something they're plotting, I want to know ahead of time. "Maybe he should be on the list. I know he doesn't like us, but he doesn't like Alabellaplunkett's bunch either. And he's in our class, not hers. If it came down to a choice, he should naturally be on our side."

Okay, that's one I'm going to have to think about. Alabellaplunkett might even be worse. She's one of those who doesn't think student government should be doing anything of significance. There're rumors that she hangs out with people from the We Are Rassilon and Gallifrey First groups who think that our planet should only be for native Gallifreyians. Ginahepiltona, when she was in charge, used to use her connections to schmooze with important people and to fill her stomach, but she also made sure that the council did the business it was supposed to. Choosing between the two would be like picking either a bludgeon to the head or a kick in my private parts.

But that's a choice I won't have to make. It's unlikely that Alabellaplunkett would agree to anyone from our class. Not needing to hear any more, I pick up my daily ration of slop, then walk over and set my tray on the table and sit next to Hedin, who's staring at his handheld's output screen while munching on some sort of undescribable concoction. "This is odd," he says.

"Yeah. Entree three, right? What *is* that? I can't even tell if it's animal, vegetable, or mineral."

"I'm talking about this." He shows me his screen. "There are a few records of past accidents with the low-grade mind-bending equipment that the schools get. The worst any of them resulted in is a few hours of unconsciousness. With professional grade apparatus, some people have had their minds sucked into the system, but not with this low-powered stuff."

"Maybe the really bad incidents didn't get reported?" I offer. Our own administrators are eager to cover up anything that makes them look bad. It's probably the same at other schools.

"Could be. But the really strange thing is that the apparatus Chadap was using doesn't seem to have been affected. If a professional mind-bender got sucked into his apparatus, then you'd be able to detect him there. The machine would be screaming to let him out."

"That is odd, yeah. If he isn't in the machine, where is he? Or maybe this time a coma is just a coma?"

Hedin throws up his hands. "Who knows?" Yeah, none of this makes a lot of sense. Did someone deliberately set a trap to ambush Chadap? Why would anyone want to? He's about the most inoffensive guy around. Or was he just there at the wrong time? Were they trying to get someone else? Someone like...

Out of the corner of my eye I notice someone eating by herself at the far end of the next table. "There's someone I want to talk to." I get up. Hedin does too, and follows behind me.

The Witch (I still don't know her real name) notices me. "Oh, hello!" she says, and goes back to eating.

"Uh, hi." I wave. "I'm Who. This is Hedin. We're friends of Chadap. Also teammates on the mind-bending team. You probably heard about what happened to him yesterday. I was wondering..."

"I had nothing to do with what happened to your friend," she says with a somewhat patronizing smile.

"Oh, hey, I didn't think you did. I'm pretty sure you've got nothing against Chadap. The thing is, I was hoping you could help us get him out of it, or at least figure out what happened."

"Boys..." Her haughty smirk fades, and an expression comes over her face like she's feeling guilty over something. "Can I be honest with you?"

I sit down next to her, Hedin sits on the opposite side on the table, and we all lean in together.

"What you've obviously heard about me? It's fake. I'm not what you think I am."

Hedin's eyes narrow. "So Alabellaplunkett..."

" sick on her own, without me doing anything to cause it. It was a coincidence, but I didn't want to be bullied, so the next time I saw her I put on an act. 'Oh, you should be careful, my dear! Bad things can happen to people if they don't watch out!' Pretty soon, nobody ever tried to pick on me again."

"D'oh!" I smack my own head.

Hedin nods. "You really had us fooled."

"Yeah," I say. "Even the teachers believe that you can cast spells, though they'll never admit it."

She looks at me. "They say you want to be a writer. I always wanted to be an actress. Back when we lived on Karn I used to act in all of the school plays. But Gallifrey doesn't have any more use for my hobby than it does for yours." She pushes away her tray, her lunch finished. "Let's meet after school to talk about this. I'll send a message to my mom. She knows a few things that might help."

"Thanks, um... we don't even know your name," I say, a little embarrassed.

"I'm Disan Desu," she says.

"It's a pleasure." A Gallifreyian with more than one name? You don't run into that very often. "See you outside the south entrance five minutes after school, D. D."

"If he doesn't get detention today," Hedin adds.

"Oh yeah, of course." Wise guy. "If I do, it'll be an hour later."

I go back to my lunch, which will be cold by now, but considering the quality of the food around here, does it matter? So, she's not a witch at all, and actually seemed really nice. Why do I feel kind of bummed about it? I liked the idea that this girl had something that the teachers, not to mention the whole adult establishment or whatever it should be called, had no clue about. Maybe they were right when they said there's no such thing as magic, even if they don't believe it themselves.

I take a mouthful of food, then look up and notice someone waiting to talk to me.

"Er, hi," she says. "Who?"

"Thms--" I take a moment to chew and swallow. "That's my name, yeah." Don't wear it out. It takes a moment for my brain to process the fact that the most popular, and most annoying, girl in the senior class is talking to me. "Alabellaplunkett? I was just, um, not talking about you."

She laughs, like someone who's politely humoring a crazy person. "I was wondering. You're not friends with Ginahepiltona, are you?"

"Are you kidding?" I get a bad taste in my mouth, and not because of the food. "She's practically my arch-enemy."

"That's what I'd heard. Well, thank you!" It's not until she walks out that I get a feeling in my stomach (and still not because of the food). *Oh crap. She's thinking of nominating me for that seventh Student Council seat.* If she does, I'll have to choose between two of the world's worst people and hand one of them the student presidency. Whichever one I pick, I'll be responsible for all of the problems she causes.

I glance toward Ginahepiltona's usual table, and sure enough she's there. She and her cohort see me looking. She points at me and chuckles, then goes back to looking innocent.

"What was that about?" I ask Hedin as he comes back from refilling his drink.

"I heard them talking," he says. "They were talking about yesterday in class, when you chose the subject for your report."

"The other? That was a brilliant choice."

He sighs. "You committed to do a report on someone that nobody knows anything about. Not even what his name was."

"Well, duh," I fire back. "That's *why* it was a brilliant idea. Since nobody knows anything about the guy, I can make stuff up, and nobody can say that it's wrong."

Hedin gives me the sympathetic look reserved for someone who's making an idiot out of himself. "This is a term report. You can't 'make stuff up.' You need to document your work and cite sources."

Whoops. Oh well. "I'll think of something," is all I can say. Right now I've got bigger things to worry about. I always say, there are two things that school-work has to take a back seat to. One is helping out a friend. The other is, anything that's remotely interesting.


There's a close call in Math class involving a dirty limerick that pops up on my online infofeed at the worst possible time. But miraculously I don't get sent to detention today, and I get to the meet-up location at the appointed time. When I do, the Old Guy is there, talking with Hedin and Disan Desu. I catch something about quantum flux induction, biological membranes, and extended Pythagorean triples. They look about as bewildered as I'd be.

"Hey, all," I say. "Any news?"

"My mom asked me whether you felt anything unusual when you found Chadap?" Disan asks. "Any unexplained negative emotions like fear or hate?"

"No," I answer, "nothing like that at all."

"Okay. Mom thought he could've been attacked telepathically. But something powerful enough to put someone into a coma at a distance should've left a residue. It would take a world-class telepath to be able to target someone with pinpoint accuracy without some psionic energy bleeding into the surroundings."

"Back to square one, then," Hedin says.

"Have you checked his body for a mezoneural transmitter?" Old Guy asks.

"Hey, that's a good idea," I say. "Let's..."

We all do double-takes as we realize where the idea came from. Another Chadap Solves the Equation moment.


The four of us head back to the school with all speed.

"Look, no offense," I say to the Old Guy, "but up until now it seemed like your mind was, how to put this... somewhere out there."

"It usually is," he says. "I used to be the head researcher for a project aimed at unlocking the power of the mind. But when the mind is unlocked, it can't resist stepping out. These days I'm lucky if I can remember my own name."

"What is your name?" I ask.

He puts a hand to his chin and stares away. "Um..."

"Never mind. Not important."

The Old Guy looks back at me. "Ninety-five percent of the energy in the universe is in sectors that only interact with the world we see through contact with the sentient brain. So of course they wanted to delve into those worlds. Do you know what the problem with that is?"

"Um, that we have to live in this world?" I say, hoping he'll take the hint and try to stay with us.

"Exactly! Once you've seen beyond the everyday so-called reality, it's hard to come back to it, and harder still to stay for any length of time."

"Please try. We need you here," Disan says as we open the door and come face to face with one of the building access control bots. "You'll have to wait here. Only students and family are allowed in the school."

"No sweat," I say. "He can say that he's Hedin's uncle Gharg. He kinda looks like him."

Hedin shakes his head. "Visitors have to scan in. Uncle Gharg's bio-scan is on file, and his won't match."

"I told you, no problem." I scan myself in, and load a certain program I've been working on onto my handheld unit as Hedin and Disan proceed through the scan.

"Please advance for identity scan," the AI voice tells the Old Guy.

I jam my handheld against the receptors and start up my new application.

"Error! Errrorrr!" the electronic voice says. "Automatic scanners are malfunctioning. Please manually input visitor identity information." And Hedin does.

"A Navakovian fractal pattern," I say. "Works every time." By now there are software patches out to get around this particular vulnerability, but #32767's tech is a long way behind the times.

Hedin skulks up to a wall and over to peer around the corner. "All clear. Let's go!" Hey, genius, we don't have to sneak around. Save it for when you really need it. This is our school, and it's still open. Three of us belong here, and the fourth has a cover story.

We get to the practice room and flip on the lights. Chadap is still sitting in his chair, oblivious. I set my handheld in scanning mode and run it over Chadap's body. A mezoneural transmitter is usually pretty tiny and to the naked eye would be indistinguishable from a normal skin blemish. But the scanner program can tell.

My unit dings. "Found it," I say. "Back of his neck. Obvious place. Should we extract it?"

"No," Old Guy says. "If you sever the link, your friend's mind won't have any way of getting back into his body. Now that we've found the link we can tap into it and see what's going on."

It occurs to me that the transmitter had to have been put in by someone at the school. Why would anyone here want to kidnap Chadap's mind? Just for fun? Is there someone among us who likes to go around inflicting bad things on innocent students?

"Hello, boys."

I look up to see Ms. Osfrey who just came in.

"Getting a little practice in before the next match? Oh, hello, Uncle Gharg. So nice to see you again."

"I'm Hedin's Uncle Gharg," the Old Guy tells her.

"My uncle's had a little too much Rigellian whiskey," Hedin says to Ms. Osfrey in a low voice. "I'm just keeping an eye on him so that he stays out of trouble."

"I see," she says. "Please make sure he doesn't regurgitate over any of the equipment. It's not easy to get replacement parts."

"I'll see to it," Hedin says.

The Old Guy eyes Ms. Osfrey curiously as she exits. "Very odd." He turns to me. "Her life path residue and yours are strangely entwined. Are perhaps you and she the same person?"

"That's a question I could best answer by dumping this wastebasket over your head," I say. "FOCUS! We need you here in the real world!"

"Oh, right." He pauses thoughtfully. "We were talking about tapping into the neural link. It can be done but we'll need to hook it up to a multi-phase intrafrasticator."

I nod. "I'll go get one from my locker."

"You have a multi-phase intrafrasticator in your locker?" the Old Guy asks.

Hedin chuckles. "He has *everything* in his locker."


I step up to my locker and enter my fifteen-digit pass code. The locking mechanism disengages and I swing the door open. An avalanche of papers, writing implements, half-eaten food items, tennis balls, water bottles, toilet paper, mismatched socks, and other various items spills out. I lose my balance in the torrent and get carried away, landing prone on the floor amidst a river of junk.

Let's see, I think as I stagger to my feet, according to my scans, that intrafrasticator should have ended up about eight centimeters out and four point five to the left. I reach out. Got it! I pick up the machine which is a rectangular box about the size where it could carry a pair of shoes, if it were empty, which considering how heavy it is it is definitely not, with interface probes sticking out of two opposite sides.

A lot of civilizations have a legend about a pocket universe where lost items end up. On Gallifrey, where time and space warps are as common as water fountains, such a thing actually exists. I managed to tap into it, quite by accident, when I was trying to build a personal teleportation system. My locker is now the more or less permanent interface into this realm. I've even sent robot probes in to start cataloging the enormous
amount of stuff there. If you want something and can't find it, chances are I've probably got it.

I lug the box onto the desk and set it down. "Here ya go." The Old Guy starts fiddling with the controls. No doubt this will take a while, so I go back to start putting all the other junk back in my locker.


We watch the monitor screen incredulously as our pudgy young friend fights a bunch of guys in armor. "Take that, foul defenders of tyranny!" He smacks one with his hand and swings his leg around in a kick that connects with three more. They all go down.

"Is that really Chadap?" I say. "He sucks at martial arts."

"The guys he's fighting are even worse." Hedin stares at the display thoughtfully. "It's a glorified video game, and from the way these guys go down as soon as he touches them, it's on 'easy' level."

"It makes a good trap," Desan says. "What boy is going to voluntarily leave a place like that?"

Hey! I, um, I resemble that remark.

"If he won't leave, someone will have to go in and get him out," the Old Guy chimes in. "I can see the aura of his physical body, and it's fading. Eventually his body will decide that it isn't needed anymore and just shut down. Then his mind will forever be stuck in fantasy land."

"You can see people's auras?" I ask.

He nods.

"Is that a hard thing to learn to do?"

"Not hard at all. I could teach you pretty easily."


"Absolutely," he says.

Some of the possibilities start running through my head. If I could--

"The hard part would be going back to seeing things the way you did before."

Urp. "Um, maybe later," I say. "Anyway, what are we waiting for? Hook me up so I can go bring Chadap back."

The Old Guy starts fiddling with switches on the device and plugging cables into its slots. Hedin gives me the look he usually does when I'm about to do something reckless and stupid. "I don't know if Chadap will let you drag him back out to the real world." he says. "And frankly..."

"Frankly what?"

"I'm not sure you'll want to leave either, once you get to a place like that."

"You have a better idea?"

He nods. "We have the equipment to tap into the simulated reality. Let's manipulate it in ways that would make Chadap not want to stay."

"Okay." I think about how to do this. "What if we just made the whole experience into a formless void, except for signs pointing toward the exit?"

It seems like a brilliant solution to me, but the Old Guy shakes his head slowly.

"No good?"

"Your friend's mind has bought into the simulated fantasy existence," he says. "If we try to make it into something else, he's going to fight us. That would not only make it more difficult, it would drain his strength and bring him closer to losing the bond with his physical body."

"Okay." Hedin pauses thoughtfully. "But what we *could* do is introduce some new element into the fantasyscape. Something that he'd believe, because it fits into the milieu."

"Like what?" Disan asks.

"Like you." Hedin smiles. "Like everybody else in our class, Chadap bought into your 'wicked witch' act. In a fantasy setting like that one, that persona will fit right in, and we can alter the program to give you real power."

Disan cackles. "I like it! Just give me a few minutes to get my mind back into character."

"It's a great idea. Let's do that," I say. "And I'm still going in. Left by himself, Chadap probably won't even be able to find his way out."

I look around to see if anyone's going to argue with me. No one does, and I move over to the bench so that the Old Guy can connect me up.


For a moment, I'm disoriented, and then, WOW. I'm standing on a dirt path winding between the trees. Sunlight pierces through branches, making my eyes squint. A wind hums and whispers as it blows pine needles across my face. Birds and insects chirp in a chaotic rhythm. The level of detail and the completeness of the immersion are incredible. I search my body for any sensation that doesn't fit, anything to tell me that I'm not really here. There isn't any.

But I still have to remember what's real and what isn't. I need to find Chadap and drag him back to this landing site so that the Old Guy can pull him out. Fortunately, I know a few things about how these simulated reality games work. The computer has enough memory to build and maintain a whole virtual world as big as the real one. But there's a story, probably conceived and designed by a person or at least a higher-level AI, that the game player is supposed to get involved in, and for that to happen, the player usually needs to get to a certain location. So the game will make it look like you could go anywhere but actually lead you to where you need to go.

I notice a dirt path under my feet. In one direction it leads through a dense clump of trees that I probably wouldn't be able to squeeze through without doing some serious hacking. (No, I don't mean that kind. Then again, maybe that too.) The other way looks passable. Yeah, very subtle hint there. Okay, let's follow it.


It isn't long before the path takes me out of the woods and into what looks like a small rustic village. To one side in a blacksmith shop a hammer bangs against metal at precise three-second intervals, and on the other a stable full of horses snort. Passers-by quickly smile at me and then go back to their business.

I start zipping down streets and between buildings, as fast as I can manage while still being able to observe what's there. I have to be quick, because Chadap probably doesn't have much time. A drop of water plops down from the graying sky and onto the back of my head. That must be the effects of what the Old Guy is doing. By themselves, simulated reality games tend not to have anything resembling weather.

I wonder once again why anyone would want to trap Chadap, and can only come up with the obvious conclusion: They wouldn't. Really, it could've been anybody on our team who used that machine. It might've been me if Her Corpulence hadn't sent me to detention instead. Now there's a thought. Was this trap intended for me? Because while I hate to admit it, Disan is probably right; I wouldn't want to leave a place like this.

After I've run around town for maybe ten minutes, I come across a raised building with big stone steps in front. Through the openened doorway I can hear voices, one of which sounds like Chadap.

"I scared those thugs away, but eventually they'll be back." Yep, that's him. "But they told me where their boss' hideout is. As soon as I can get there, I'll go knock some sense into him too."

I climb up the oversized concrete steps as quickly as I can manage. "Good luck. We're all counting on you," someone else up there says. My breath turns into heavy huffs as I force myself to keep climbing up. How can this be so strenuous when I'm not actually even moving?

At the top of the stairs, there's a hallway, and not far past the entrance an open door leads into a big room with a long oval table made of what looks like freshly polished wood. Chadap is there talking with a few villagers. I try to say something and find myself out of breath.

"Hey!" Chadap says as he sees me. "Look Who's here!"

I stop, and a moment later my voice is back. "We need to go. Right away."

"Greetings, stranger," one of the simulated locals says. "Who might you be?"

"Exactly," Chadap answers for me, flashing his usual adorable dimpled smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Exactly," the villager says. I almost laugh. Not exactly a world class AI here.

Chadap turns to me. "I can't go yet. My friends here need me."

Um, hel-LO? These aren't real people, they're just computer-generated characters. But like the Old Guy said, trying to explain that would just be counter-productive.

"We have bigger problems," I finally say.

"What problems?"

I hear a sudden downpour of rain from outside. A gigantic blast of thunder rumbles through the sky, shaking the room. "Where is he?" a voice screams. It's Disan's voice, but distorted and amplified to an unbelievable degree.

"Those problems," I answer. I turn to the villagers. "Don't worry, it's the two of us she wants. You'll be safe, but only if we get out of here now."

Cripes, I think, now he's got me talking to them as if they were real people. Chadap pauses. "Umm..."

Another huge burst of thunder booms. Everything in the room visibly wobbles.

"Look, you can come back here once we deal with this," I lie. "But for now, your staying here is doing these people more harm than good."

Unable to argue with that, he moves toward the exit. He stops to say something to the virtual villagers. I grab him by the arm and shove him out.

When we get back outside, it's pouring buckets. An unearthly spectral shape, vaguely face-shaped, hovers high in the darkened sky. Water soaks through my hair, running down my back and across my face. A gale-force wind blows, making it seem like I might get swept into the air at any minute.

"You!" the voice shrieks. A bolt of energy zaps down just next to Chadap, who jerks to the side. The ground smolders and steams where the blast hit. Holy crap, I think. Is she going to destroy Chadap trying to save him?

"What do we do?" Chadap cries frantically. "You're always the one with a plan!"

"Why yes, I do have a plan, old buddy." I glance up to see if another attack is coming. "The cunning plan to end all cunning plans. It's positively brilliant in its simplicity."

"What is it?"


And we do.


Out of the village and down the dirt path we zoom, zig-zagging between puddles, ducking under tree branches. By now, Chadap has gotten ahead of me. For a short, pudgy kid, he sure can put on some serious speed when he tries, although that might be only because of the simulated world. Energy bolts strafe the ground where we just were. I wonder whether it was a good idea to trust our lives with this person we just met. Once Disan gets into a role, is she sane enough to remember who she really is? Or will she blast us to bits because that's what the character she's playing would do?

Matted tufts of hair fall across my eyes, making it hard to see where I'm going, but I don't slow down. None of this is really happening, I tell myself. I'm still sitting on my butt on a bench in the practice room. But try as I might, I can't deny what my eyes, ears, and nerves are telling me, as I make a mad leap over a colossal puddle to avoid being zapped.

The wind picks up even stronger. I feel myself about to go flying, and have to wrap my arm around a tree, leaving me as the proverbial sitting duck. The force bolts stop. The apparition floats toward me. Malevolent laughter cuts through me like the sound of nails on a windowpane. Closer now, and I can make out that it looks like the face of a wrinkled old crone, something like what you'd get if you took Ms. Osfrey and aged her about three hundred years.

"Disan! Stop!" I scream. But it doesn't stop, and its almost skeletal hand lifts up and points in my direction.


AUTHOR'S NOTES: Some Doctor Who references that should've been in the notes for the last episode: Mind-bending was shown in the Fourth Doctor episode Brain of Morbius and not seen since. The Sisterhood of Karn was also introduced in that same episode but has reappeared a few times in the new series. The Androgums are from the Sixth Doctor episode The Two Doctors and have not appeared since then. The Ood were in several Tenth Doctor episodes including of course Planet of the Ood and have made cameos in some later Doctors' episodes. The characters Chesrick and Ood Alpha in this story are based on Big Nate characters Chester Budrick and Artur Pashkov respectively.

Also: The concept of The Other is from what has become known as the Cartmel Masterplan. Andrew Cartmel, head writer for the series during the Seventh Doctor's tenure, came up with the idea of there having been a third member of Rassilon's expedition into the black hole, The Other. In this story I'm only using Cartmel's basic idea, and the treatment of The Other in this story won't necessarily be the same as in Cartmel's original idea nor will it follow how the idea has been developed in other sources such as novels and audio plays.

If you're not familiar with Big Nate, you might want to look for the books at your local library, or check out these sites:

As always, all feedback is welcome. Please use the comment functionality of the site.

With gratitude to Doctor Who writers through the years, specifically to the works of:

Bob Baker
Johnny Byrne
Andrew Cartmel
Russell T. Davies
Terrance Dicks
Robert Holmes
Malcolm Hulke
Matt Jones
Barry Letts
Dave Martin
Steven Moffat
Terry Nation
Anthony Read
Robert Sloman
Keith Temple
Graham Williams

and of course

Lincoln Peirce