"Next Steps" - Part Seven

Part Seven

The TARDIS refused to move.

Zeeva stared at the console, and then she pulled the dematerialization lever again—nothing.

The great machine gave a low, unhappy groan.

Finn stood on the opposite side of the console, still clutching The Impossible Diary against his chest.

“Is it supposed to sound like that?”

“No.”

“Seems like you've been saying that a lot today.”

Zeeva shot him a look.

Finn smiled innocently.

Bunsen Honeydew studied one of the TARDIS monitors while Beaker peered over his shoulder. “According to these readings,” Bunsen said, “your vessel has rejected the coordinates.”

Zeeva frowned.

“My TARDIS doesn’t reject coordinates.”

The machine groaned again.

Zeeva looked toward the central column. “All right. She occasionally expresses an opinion.”

Finn blinked. “Your spaceship has opinions?”

“TARDIS.”

“Your TARDIS has opinions?”

“Strong ones.”

“Mee mee.”

“Thank you, Beaker.”

Zeeva placed both hands against the console. “All right, darling. I know you don’t like it.” The engines hummed quietly. “Neither do I.”

Finn watched her.

She wasn’t pressing buttons anymore.

She was talking to the ship.

“But something out there knows this boy.” She glanced toward Finn. “And I need to know why.”

A long silence followed.

Then—THOOM!

The central column illuminated.

Zeeva smiled. “There’s my girl.”

Finn’s mouth dropped open. “She listened to you!”

“Of course, she did.”

Bunsen raised one finger. “Technically, if the vessel possesses a sufficiently advanced telepathic matrix—”

The floor lurched.

Bunsen disappeared beneath the console.

Beaker flailed. “MEEEEEEP!”

Finn grabbed the railing.

Zeeva remained upright, leaning over the console. “Hang on!”

Finn shouted over the rising mechanical roar. “To what?!”

“Something expensive!”

The TARDIS plunged into the vortex.

Except—there was no vortex.

Every monitor went black.

The holographic displays vanished.

Even the usual rhythmic pulse of the engines became strangely muted.

Finn tightened his grip on the railing. “Zeeva?”

She was staring at the instrumentation. “That isn’t possible.”

“There’s that phrase again.”

“This time I mean it.”

Bunsen pulled himself upright. “What is it?”

Zeeva tapped a control—nothing appeared. “No temporal current.” Another switch. “No spatial coordinates.” She checked the navigation matrix. “No dimensional reference.”

Bunsen’s mouth fell open. “We’re nowhere?”

“No.” Zeeva’s expression darkened. “Nowhere is still somewhere.”

Finn didn’t like that answer. “So, where are we?”

Zeeva looked at him. “Between.”

— — — — — — — —

The TARDIS landed. Not with its usual familiar thump, but with a whisper.

Zeeva remained at the console for several seconds.

Finn waited. “So…we’re here?”

“Apparently.”

“What’s outside?”

Zeeva activated an exterior scanner.

Static filled the monitor.

She tried again.

More static.

Bunsen approached. “Perhaps the sensor array—”

“The sensor array is fine, Bunsen.” Zeeva reached for her sonic screwdriver. “That means whatever’s outside doesn’t particularly want to be looked at.”

Finn stared toward the TARDIS doors. “That’s comforting.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

Zeeva looked at him and smiled faintly. “I’m rubbin’ off on you.” She then approached the doors.

Finn followed.

Zeeva stopped and turned. “No.”

Finn stopped, too. “No?”

“You stay here.”

His face fell immediately. “But—”

“No buts.”

“You said we were going to find out what’s broken.”

“We means the adults.”

Bunsen raised his hand. “I volunteer Beaker.”

Beaker spun toward him. “MEEP?!”

Finn folded his arms. “That’s not fair.”

Zeeva knelt before him. She didn’t need to ask what he was thinking. “This thing wants you, Finn.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s not an argument in your favor.”

“But what if you can’t find anything without me?”

Zeeva hesitated.

Finn noticed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You did the face.”

“What face?”

“The face you do when I’m right and you don’t want me to know.”

“I do not have such a face.”

From behind them—

“Mee.”

Zeeva slowly looked at Beaker.

He immediately pretended to examine the ceiling.

Finn grinned. “You totally have the face.”

Zeeva sighed. Children.

She had dealt with armies, collapsing stars, temporal paradoxes, and governments determined to weaponize things they barely understood.

Children remained undefeated.

“All right.”

Finn brightened.

“But you stay beside me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You don’t touch anything.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You don’t wander off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And if I say run—”

“I run.”

Zeeva pointed at him. “Fast.”

Finn nodded. “As fast as my little legs will take me.”

She fought a smile. “C’mere.” She gently adjusted one strap of his overalls and then stood. “Let’s go.”

— — — — — —

The doors opened.

There were no stars. No planets. No sky.

Outside the TARDIS stretched an enormous black expanse crossed by ribbons of pale light.

Finn stepped carefully beyond the threshold.

His breath caught.

Fragments of impossible things floated around them.

Half a stone staircase.

A streetlamp.

The remains of something resembling a spaceship.

A tree growing upside down.

Pieces of buildings Finn didn’t recognize.

Some appeared ancient.

Others looked as though they hadn’t been built yet.

Everything drifted weightlessly...yet Finn stood on something solid.

He looked down.

There was no floor.

He yelped and jumped backward.

Zeeva caught him. “I’ve got ya.”

“There’s nothing under me!”

“There is.” She stomped her foot down a few times to show him.

Finn heard the hollowed stomps but still didn’t believe it. “I can see through it!”

“Don’t trust your eyes.”

“Easy for you to say!”

Zeeva tapped her sonic screwdriver against the invisible surface.

A blue ripple spread beneath them.

A pathway appeared. Transparent. Stretching into darkness.

Bunsen emerged from the TARDIS. “Remarkable!”

Beaker followed and looked down. “Meeeeee...” Then he immediately hugged Bunsen.

Finn stared into the distance. “What is this place?”

Zeeva scanned the debris. “A scar.”

Bunsen tilted his head. “A scar?”

“Something happened here.” She examined the fragments. “Something enormous.” Her sonic buzzed. The display flickered. “And whatever was damaged never healed properly.”

Finn looked around. “So, all this stuff...”

“Pieces of universes.”

His expression changed. “Destroyed universes?”

Zeeva didn’t answer immediately. “Some of them.”

They followed the invisible path.

The farther they traveled, the older the debris became.

A broken satellite gave way to stone columns.

Stone columns gave way to structures made from materials even Zeeva couldn’t identify.

Finally—everything stopped.

Ahead of them floated an enormous ring.

It dwarfed the TARDIS.

The structure looked ancient beyond comprehension.

Black metal. Stone. Crystal. Something organic.

It seemed to be all of those things simultaneously.

And through its center—a hairline crack of white light divided the darkness.

Finn stopped walking. “The first fracture.”

Zeeva said nothing.

Her sonic screwdriver screamed.

She immediately shut it off.

Bunsen checked his scanner. Then checked it again. “Oh.”

Finn looked at him. “You’ve really gotta stop doing that.”

Bunsen stared at the readings. “This structure is older than Earth.”

Zeeva’s eyes narrowed. “How much older?”

“Considerably.”

“How considerably, Bunsen?”

Bunsen swallowed. “According to this...” He slowly looked toward her. “...it predates our observable universes.”

Nobody spoke.

Even Zeeva seemed unable to find a clever response.

Finn finally broke the silence. “How can something exist before the universe?”

Zeeva stared at the ring. “It can’t.”

Finn waited.

She sighed. “I hate today.”

They approached the structure, noticing the symbols that covered it.

Not English.

Not Kree.

Not Skrull.

Not urSkeks.

Not Sebacean.

Not Gallifreyan.

Zeeva traced one without touching it. “I’ve never seen this language.”

Bunsen began recording it. “Perhaps it’s mathematical.”

“No.” Zeeva’s expression became uneasy. “It’s older than mathematics.”

Finn stared at her. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, The Impossible Diary moved beneath Finn’s arm.

He froze. “No.”

Zeeva turned. “What?”

“The book.”

The Diary began glowing.

Finn grabbed it with both hands. “Not again.”

Zeeva hurried toward him. “Don’t open it.”

“I wasn’t planning to!”

The Diary ripped itself free. It floated into the air.

“Finn!” Zeeva grabbed for it.

Too late.

The book opened. Pages turned. Hundreds. Thousands.

Then stopped.

A beam of golden light struck the ancient structure.

Every symbol illuminated.

Bunsen stared. “It’s translating!”

Zeeva looked from the Diary to the ring. “No.”

The symbols changed.

Slowly...they became readable.

Finn sounded out the first line. “Before worlds...” More symbols shifted. “...there was one.”

Zeeva read the next. “Before time...there was possibility.”

Another line.

Bunsen leaned closer. “Possibility divided.”

The hairline fracture inside the ring brightened.

Finn stared at the final inscription. “And from division...” His voice faded.

Zeeva completed it. “...came everything.”

The fracture pulsed.

Images exploded around them.

Not holograms.

Memories.

Universes forming.

Stars igniting.

Galaxies spreading into infinity.

Timelines multiplying.

Reality branching over and over again.

Finn stared in wonder.

Then the images changed.

Two universes collided.

Both vanished.

Another pair overlapped.

Destroyed.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Countless worlds crashing together.

Finn covered his ears even though there was no sound. “Make it stop!”

Zeeva grabbed him and pulled him against herself. “Don’t look.” She held him tightly while the memories continued.

Bunsen stared upward. “My word…”

Zeeva looked.

Something moved between the universes.

A shape. Barely visible. Not a person. Not yet.

Every time two realities collided...the shape grew.

Zeeva’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

Bunsen looked toward her. “What?”

“The Fracture Echoes.” She stared at the thing forming between worlds. “They aren’t creatures.”

Finn peeked out from against her. “What are they?”

Zeeva slowly answered, “Pieces.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know.”

The images vanished.

The ancient ring went dark.

Everything became silent again.

Finn stepped away from Zeeva.

The Diary remained floating. A new page formed.

Not words. A picture.

Finn. Ten years old. Exactly as he stood now.

Blue hair. Overalls. Wide eyes.

Zeeva froze.

Bunsen stared.

Finn laughed nervously. “Okay.” Nobody responded. “That’s weird.”

Zeeva approached the book. “Finn...”

“What?”

She looked frightened. That scared him more than anything else had.

“What is it?”

Zeeva pointed toward the ancient structure.

Symbols were changing again.

Bunsen read his scanner.

His voice became very quiet. “The inscription is responding to him.”

Finn took a step backward. “How?”

Zeeva didn’t know.

The symbols finished rearranging.

One sentence appeared: THE ANCHOR HAS RETURNED.

Finn stared. “Anchor?”

The fracture inside the ring suddenly widened.

Zeeva grabbed Finn. “Back!”

A shockwave tore across the invisible platform.

Bunsen and Beaker were thrown backward.

The Diary slammed shut.

And from inside the fracture—a hand appeared.

Not flesh. Not metal.

Made from pieces of different realities constantly shifting across its surface.

It gripped the edge of the crack.

Finn couldn’t move.

Zeeva pushed him behind her and raised her sonic screwdriver.

Another hand emerged. Then shoulders. A head.

The same impossible darkness Finn had seen above his apartment.

A Fracture Echo.

But this one was different.

Older. Larger. Complete.

Two white lights opened where its eyes should have been.

They ignored Zeeva. Ignored Bunsen. Ignored Beaker.

They found Finn.

The creature lowered its head.

And for the first time...a Fracture Echo spoke without stealing someone else's voice. “You came back.”

Finn’s face went pale.

Zeeva tightened her grip on the sonic screwdriver. “He’s never been here.”

The creature looked at her. Then back at Finn. “Not yet.”

Zeeva froze.

Finn whispered: “What does that mean?”

The Echo began pulling itself through the First Fracture.

Zeeva grabbed Finn’s hand. “RUN!”

           And this time—he did.