Doctor Whooves: The Sentaurans

Doctor Whooves: The Sentaurans

Chapter 3: The Clone Pony Army

by Neorenamon

This story takes place after the events of Doctor Whooves, the Re-Imagination.  I give credit to both Doctor Who and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic for the characters and the rights to the same.

…

“So how are those... costumes coming?” asked the Doctor as he and the fillies waited for the future Princesses behind their privacy screen that Pinkie Pie had produced magically from nowhere.

“Almost ready!” replied Pinkie Pie.

“I guess magic doesn't make everything faster,” said Sweetie Belle.

A Pegasus mare stepped out from behind the screen.  She had a pink hide, a blue mane and tail, and her cutie mark was a pair of blue lightning bolts.  Her eyes were brown.

“Is that you, Pinkie?” asked Scootaloo.

“Pinkie with lightning bolts?” she replied sounding somewhat like Rainbow Dash, “Aw heck no.  That's just what Pinkie thought would be cool.  It's me, your Dashie of course.  I'm always fast no matter what I might look like.”

“Well please refrain from any Triple Rainbooms,” said the Doctor, “or other feats that are supposed to be Impossible at this time.”

“Aw Doc,” she moaned, “You're no fun.”

“But you will show me when we get back to the future, won't you?” begged Scootaloo.

“For my number one fan,” she giggled, “how can I say 'no'?”

“Well,” mused the Doctor, “I'm sure that will do.  What have you got, Pinkie Pie?”

She came out looking like Discord.

“No, that won't do.  Not at all.  Try again.”

She went back and came out dressed like a viking.

“No, that won't do.  It's not period.  That's more likely to cause a panic.  Try again.”

She went back and came out dressed like the jack from a deck of cards.

“No, that won't do.  They don't dress like playing cards any more... Besides, having a head at each end of you is really creeping me out.  NO ONE will take that as normal.  Try again.”

“We're creeped out too,” said Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle as one.

She went back and came out dressed like the world's most glitzy clown.

“No, that won't do.  I'd expect that from Rarity or Romana, but that's going to stick out like a sore thu... hoof no matter where we go.  Try again.”

She went back and came out dressed like old Pinkie Pie wearing 10 different musical instruments, some of which the Doctor could not even identify.

“No!” he replied, “That's exactly what people would expect from Pinkie Pie.  Try again.”

She went back and came out as a white unicorn mares with a two-tone mane of  blueish-green and red.  Her cutie mark was a cluster of five purple maple leaves.  Her eyes were blue.

“Hmm,” mused the Doctor, “What's this?”

“I'm calling myself Gusty,” she chirped, “so I can be an airhead along with my Rainbow... uh, Firefly!”

“I guess that all works,” said Sweetie Belle as she looked at the two of them.

“Just remember to try and use those powers and abilities that are consistent with your apparent forms,” warned the Doctor, “and we can minimize suspicions.”

“Oki doki doc!” chirped Pinkie/Gusty.

“And while it most likely won't matter, be sure to avoid any unnecessary contact with your past selves.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” said Dash/Firefly.

“Now let's go out and look for something suspicious.  While the Sentaurans should stand out like a sore hoof, the Master will not be so easy to track down.  He's obviously bypassed his own recall circuit, or Gallifreyan Security would surely have dealt with him by now.”

“That all makes sense,” mused Apple Bloom.

“And I need my Assistants in Training to stay close to me,” he mused, “In fact, you should all stay close as long as you're out of your time.”

They all nodded.  The Doctor opened the TARDIS door as they filed out.

…

“What do you think?” asked Rarity of Romana as she looked at the jewel studded cloak they were working on.

“It needs more of those lavender sapphire gems,” she replied as her horn glowed and a needle and thread floated over towards the piece.

“That's just what I was thinking!” replied the tailor unicorn, “You're getting much better at controlling things with your magic!”

“Oh thank you,” she replied, “The Doctor isn't the only gifted one, you know.”

“Obviously.  I'm sure our new line will be all the talk of the Galloping Grand Gala.”

“I never really though that working with fashion would make me so... happy.”

There was a knock at the front door, to which Rarity replied, “I shall get that.  You keep focused on your work, all right?”

She nodded as Miss Rarity went to the front door.  Opening the door, she looked into the gray eyes of a gray earth pony.  He looked like a middle aged stallion with a well trimmed beard and mustache.  His black mane and tail were streaked with white.  He wore a darker gray suit coat, and his cutie mark appeared to be a gold pocket watch with a white face, black hands, and no chain.  His tail was trimmed fairly short and even while his mane was swept back behind his head.

“Well hello,” said Rarity, “How can I help you today?”

“I need some suits tailored,” he said.

“Oh, I'd like to help, but we're really quite busy...”

“Oh, this is not a rush job,” he replied smoothly, “But I would like you to do this work no matter how much time it takes.  Excellence takes time, after all.  I pay plenty well for quality.”

“In that case, please come in...” she said, “What's your name?”

“Oh, call me the Watchmaster,” he answered smoothly.

“Oh,” she replied, “I take it you're a watch maker?”

“One of the best, my dear,” he replied, “That's why I can afford to wait for quality like yours.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she giggled as she let him in.

He glanced at the Gallifreyan designs littering the shop, and said, “Oh, this is all excellent work!  I'm sure I'll be completely satisfied with your work.”  He walked in further to see Romana working, and asked, “and who might that mare be?”

“She's my design partner,” she replied, “and her name is Romanadvoratrelundar.”

“My, that's a fascinating name.  If she's your partner, then perhaps I should make my proposal to both of you at the same time.”

“Very well,” she answered, “Oh Romanadvoratrelundar?  There's a gentlestallion here who wants to set up a long term job.  Could you take a little break so we both might hear his proposal?”

“Alright,” she replied as she set down the needle and thread.  Then she wandered over to stand by her side as she looked at the new stallion.

“But first,” he said smoothly as he drew a silver sphere from his vest, “A little gift to show how much I appreciate taking time out to speak to me.”

“You don't really need to...” began Romana.

“What is that?” asked Rarity.

He tossed the sphere to the floor at their feet, and a cloud of gas erupted from it.

“Gas!” gasp Romana as they both breathed in the strange smoke.

“How could you...” objected Rarity as the two mare collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Hah,” laughed the Master, “It's lucky I took the antidote for the sleep gas before I came in here.”  He walked over to Romana as said as he looked her over, “It certainly looks like the previous incarnation of the Mare President.”  He walked over to the door, and called to four stallions dressed in overalls.  As they came over, he said, “Take our... guests back to my TARDIS.”

“The mighty Sentaurans should not do grunt labor,” snarled one.

“Oh please,” hissed the Master, “You're all nameless rejects that are only fit for manual labor.  None of you are fit to be warriors.  Now shut up and do as I say.”

They all grumbled as they walked into the shop.

“Tie those mares up tightly, and muzzle them.  I don't want a peep from either.  Wrap those two up in the rugs over there.”

He watched as the grunts obeyed him.

“So if she's here,” he mused, “Then the one called the Doctor must be real as well.  It's good that I still have a few well paid informants in Gallifrey.”

…

The Doctor's group stumbled across a labor camp as they approached the outskirts of Marelin.  It seemed odd that they were all stallions of the same size and shape, and only a few of them were doing any work while the other walked about carrying things wrapped in cloth that suspiciously looked like rifles to the trained eye of the Doctor.

“Hmm,” he said, “The disguises are crude, but good enough to pass a casual look.  I suspect that these are our Sentaurans, all right.  We should be very cautious.  They appear to be heavily...”

Everyone (except maybe Firefly) stopped to facehoof themselves as Gusty had already bounced over to greet them.

“I told her she shouldn't go around bouncing like... oh never mind.”

“They don't seem to mind,” said Apple Bloom, “I wonder what they all might be talkin about?”

“We should hang back a moment before we... oh never mind,” said the Doctor as he realized that Firefly was already flying over to be at her apparent love's side.  They were too far away to hear what they were saying clearly, even for the Doctor.

“We can have a WAR PARTY!” shouted Gusty as she jumped up and down, and a burst of confetti just seemed to shoot from her mane in all the colors the Doctor could think of.

“War?” he asked, “Party?”

“Yep,” said Apple Bloom, “That all sounds like Pinkie Pie to me!”

“They seem to like the idea as well,” said Scootaloo.

“I suppose that's one way to keep them distracted,” mused the Doctor, “but unless the Master just happens to have the same build as a Sentauran, I don't see him around here anywhere.”  He paused to consider, “Well, there must be more groups of Sentauran Warriors around here.  He must be in one of those groups, and I'm sure that there must be some sort of device so all groups can remain in touch with each other.”  He glanced at the fillies, and said, “We need to go down to the party, find one of those communications devices, and slip away with it.  If any of you are spotted, just drop the device and run away.  Your safety comes first.  It always comes first.”

“Okay Doc,” said Scootaloo, “I'm sure it's nothing we can't handle.”

“Do you think our cutie marks could be hourglasses?  Or maybe a TARDIS like the Doctor's?” asked Sweetie Belle with a sense of excitement.

“That would be all kinds a cool,” replied Apple Bloom, “but how would we explain what all a TARDIS is to the other colts in our class?”

“We can worry about that bridge when we get there.”

“A bridge?” she asked, “Why should we have to cross a bridge?”

“I believe that the Doctor is using an expression,” said Sweetie Belle sagely.

“Precisely,” agreed the Doctor.

…

Romana awoke in a strange place, yet it seemed oddly familiar.  She was hogtied and muzzled, and she was laying on a bench-like bed.  Across from her was Rarity, secured in a similar fashion.  It all felt very unfashionable to her.  There was some sort of weird device covering her horn from tip to base.  When she tried to use her magic to remove the gag from Rarity, she got a headache instead.  The look she took for pleading from Rarity was more likely a warning not to try her powers.

“Bad idea,” said the stallion from before as he stalked back into the room they were in, “The disruptors I placed over your horns will make sure that neither of you can use your magic.  Rarity found that out the hard way as well.”

She glared at him as he walked over, and he said, “Oh, and I'm not the stallion I said I was.  Or at least that's not who I am most of the time.”  He grinned evily as he added, “Most people just know me as... The Master!”

Romana realized that they were both in great danger.  She realized from the pattern on the wall that they were being held prisoner in a Type 45 TARDIS, which was significantly more advanced than the Doctor's Type 40.  She knew that back in their other reality, it was the same model of TARDIS that the Master they knew used as well.  Each type of TARDIS had some design features or patterns so that the discriminating eye could tell what model of TARDIS they happened to be in.

“But don't worry your pretty little heads,” he said as he stared at them with an evil gleam in his eye, “I'm not planning to kill you... right away.  In fact, I need you both as bait for the one called Doctor.  I hope this foal is a worthy challenge for the intellectual prowess of the Master.”

'Oh he is,' thought Romana hotly, 'He is.'

[to be continued]