Star Wars-Doctor Who: The Clones And The Daleks

CHAPTER 6: Blue Box

"Oh my, MY, I almost didn't catch you there, didn't I?" A mysterious being spoke from behind a glaring light. His accent sounds like a deep-core merchant, "That would have been a nasty little slip up, may have ended up a bit inside-out, I say."

Trooper Wyssick pants deeply, feeling the air pressure increase inside the new atmosphere. Sergeant Apoc lays unconscious next to him. Wyssick leans over on his hands, elbows bent, back arched.

"Where...PANT...are we...?" The clone wheezes uncontrollably, taking in as much air as he can.

"Well, my friend, we are safe, for now," the eccentric being claims, "and you are on my vessel."

Wyssick gazes around at the room, taking in the heights of the ceiling and arches in the console room. That's funny, could have sworn we were falling into a small box...

"Confusing, isn't it?" The strange someone says, "Bigger on the inside, right?"

"Uh...Yeah..." Wyssick wheezes out, "What is this place?"

"I figured you would ask, though your people seem pretty advanced," The figure takes a deep breathe, then quickly steps around the handrail towards the pair of troopers on the floor. He inquires, "Is your friend alright, there?"

Wyssick snaps his eyes towards his Sergeant, finally realizing that he isn't breathing.

"Sergeant! No!"

Wyssick tugs Apoc's helmet off, grabbing his face in an attempt to wake him up.

"He's not breathing, we need to resuscitate him!"

Wyssick tosses away his own helmet and begins undoing the straps on Apoc's chest plate, then performs compressions on his downed brother's chest.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

He bends down to perform mouth-to-mouth, and Apoc coughs to life after three or four breaths. He crutches himself up on his bent elbows, panting into consciousness once again.

"Sir, we made it! We survived the hull breach," Wyssick explains.

"Quite miraculously, I'll say," The mysterious figure says, "If I hadn't arrived at the precise moment I did, you'd have been much harder to...uh...rescue."

"Who...PANT...The hell...PANT...are you?"

The sergeant has trouble finding his breathe. He looks up at the man--I think it's a man--assessing his impressive height and...ridiculous attire. What world spat this mess of a guy out?

The man standing before them sizes up the pair of identical soldiers, coming to deductive conclusions in his mind.

"Hmm...identical storm troopers, of sorts...you wouldn't happen to be brothers, would you?" he says sarcastically, already deducing the answer.

"Well, no, but," Wyssick stammers, "But we like to think that we are...to, you know, increase unity."

"So, genetic copies, you must be?"

"We're clones, we're brothers of one another. Everyone in the Clone Army." Wyssick gets annoyed, as if this should be common knowledge. "Where've you been the past year?"

"Oh, here...There..." The man explains, "A little bit of everywhere...I tend to come and go as I see fit, wherever my help is needed."

Wyssick helps Apoc to his feet, the ARC trooper fumbles as he tries to catch his breath. He coughs, and points to his armor on the ground. Wyssick scrambles to pick it up and help his commander put on his chest plate.