On board there was much activity, crew members rushing to and fro as they prepared to emerge from the soupy gravity of the unknown force that had clutched at them. The captain bit his thumbnail tensely as Sulu turned to Spock.
“Ready Mr. Spock?” he asked mildly, covering his unease well.
“Indeed.” Spock replied simply over his shoulder, eyes roaming the instruments before him.

“Scotty gives the all clear,” reported Uhura. Sulu firmly pressed a button. Everyone bar Spock held their breath. Nothing happened.
“What’s wrong?” Asked captain Kirk, rather childishly. Spock was about to reply when he was almost knocked off his chair by a sudden judder that passed through the ship.
“Nothing is in error captain.” Spock stated, and turned to see that Uhura’s ankles were waggling in the air.

Kirk glowered from where he had fallen, Sulu was standing and massaging his tender rear. Uhura continued to waggle in a most irritating manner.
“Moving your legs will not achieve anything, Uhura.” Spock stated before lifting her bodily up and back into her chair. Kirk crossed his arms, pouting pointedly at his scientific officer.
“Is there something amiss with your jaw, captain?” asked Spock. Sulu rolled his eyes and helped the captain to his feet.
“Thank you, Mr. Sulu. At least some of my crew have an idea how to serve their captain.”
Spock raised one eyebrow.
“You failed to move your legs at speed, so I therefore assumed you had no need of assistance.”

Kirk looked fit to give the Vulcan a wedgie, but was interrupted by a loud “Ach!” from the engine room.
“Message from Scotty,” Uhura said, replacing the communicator thing in her ear.
“He says: ‘Ach, och, the engines need a rest…Ach.’”
“You do not always have to pass on the messages you receive so literally,” commented Spock, who was edging nervously away from an enraged captain.
“Right. We’ll park the enterprise in orbit around this yellow planet here,” Kirk said, pointing at the yellow planet and then casting about for a comb to neaten his ruffled hair.
Hoping to make amends, Spock reached into his pocket and tentatively handed his comb to Kirk. Kirk took the comb and sat down, much to Spock’s relief.

“Captain to crew,” Said Kirk, poking at what he hoped was the communicator. Uhura let out an amazed gasp at what was displayed on the screen.
“recreation for all those not on essential duties is permitted. Time to have a break!” Kirk continued, intent on smoothing his hair.
Spock too was staring fixedly at the main screen, both eyebrows bemusedly raised.
“What?” Demanded Kirk, looking at all the stunned faces that surrounded him.
“I was unaware that the enterprise had windscreen wipers,” Spock informed him. Looking down at the button he had pressed, he saw the button that was labeled ‘communicator’ was the next along.

And so the enterprise turned and began looping about the small yellow planet.

Spock was at a loose end. Wandering about the corridors aimlessly did not seem very productive, but there was little else he could think to do whilst the others had time to relax. He turned yet another corner and almost walked into the ship’s surgeon.
“Aren’t you supposed to be relaxing?” McCoy asked, rather smugly.
“Indeed.” Spock said, wondering what McCoy was smiling at.
“Well then, where is your book, or data stream, or strange Vulcan ritual of colonic irrigation?”
Spock did not know how to reply, so raised an eyebrow instead.

Positively giggling, McCoy produced a small plastic bottle filled with a brown, fizzing liquid.
“I was actually just looking for you to give you this,” he stated, holding out the bottle. Spock noticed that it had a patterned red and white label.
“Coke?” he asked, wondering how much higher he could lift his eyebrow without compromising his hairline.
“Yes, or at least a very accurate replication of it. It comes from an old earth custom.”
“Which custom would that be?” Spock was peering at the label, noting that the liquid contained 366 Kilojoules of energy per serving and was bottled by someone called “amatil”.
“The practice of becoming very silly for a short amount of time.” McCoy was grinning evilly now.

“Color 150d,” read Spock, trying to ignore the niggling suspicion that the captain was somehow getting revenge for whatever error in duty he had exhibited earlier.
“Is that the term the human race used to refer to brown?”
But he got no answer. McCoy was chuckling almost evilly.
“The captain wanted to give you a wedgie, but I though that this was a much better idea. Not only will he get his revenge, as this stuff is rather bad for your teeth, but I’ll get an insight into what happens to a hyper Vulcan. Drink up!” and with that he strode away.

Spock looked down doubtfully at the 1.25 litres of ‘Coke’ in his hands. The captains’ often inexplicable and childish pranks of revenge for Spock’s minor infringements of duty were never actually dangerous. It therefore followed that drinking this would simply appease the chain of command and avoid a painful manipulation of his undergarments.
Carefully unscrewing the lid, Spock raised the bottle to his lips.

*******

“Coffee.” Said Daniel Jackson, meaning it with all the sincerity in his heart. There were few things that could get this mild linguists’ heart rate up, and coffee was one of them. Another was small Mexican dancing beans, but they were very hard to come by if you were an intergalactic explorer. So were purple snakes, but Daniel didn’t like them, so it was OK that he didn’t see many.
“Coffee.” He said again, allowing his head to drop until his face was inches from the table.
“Here ya go, buddy. Don’t drink it all at once!” Jack grinned, handing his friend a steaming cup before sitting down next to him. The mess was always crowded at lunch time, and they had only got a table due to Sam’s propensity to lie all over it until her friends arrived.

They had turned up to the briefing only a minute late, cheeks bulging with the last of their lunch. There they were told that they were going on another mission, to a planet that was said to be yellow. Janet Fraiser was coming too, because she was bored and was tired of playing naughts and crosses with the machine that went “Ping!”

So they all lined up in the gate room whilst the chevrons were locked into place.
“We really need to re-decorate this place,” Jack said, looking about.
“maybe a couple of pot plants.” Daniel looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I like pot plants.”
“Not wheat pot plants,” cautioned Teal'c
“No,” agreed Sam.

Then the gate went woosh and they all stepped through.

*******

“There are no two ways about it, we’re doomed!” wailed Madison.
“No we’re not,” Said the Doctor levelly. Madison didn’t listen and continued to flail her stubby limbs about.
“Sometimes, you are an exact model of your parent.” The Doctor scolded, peering at the lock of their prison cell.
“Our resemblance is understandable,” said Madison, offspring of one of the Doctor’s old friends.
“I am, after all, nearly a clone of Alpha.”
Madison continued to babble whilst the Doctor held his sonic screwdriver to the lock. With a ‘click!’ they were free.
“Come on! Quietly!” the Doctor grabbed one of Madison’s tentacles and slipped from the cell. They shuffled down seemingly endless corridors until the customary shape of the TARDIS was in sight.
“HALT!” shouted a guard, emerging from the shadows.
“Sorry, must dash!” the Doctor apologized, shoving Madison through the doors and into safety. The guard fired his blaster, missing the Doctor’s head by inches. Hurriedly he ducked into his ship and shut the doors.

“Doctor! Thank goodness. I was beginning to fret!” Alpha scuttled to the Doctor’s side, giant eye taking in the Time Lord. Madison flailed in the corner of the giant console room, looking as guilty as her alien form allowed her to.
“It seems that Madison’s first diplomatic trial was not a success.” Alpha continued, satisfied that the Doctor was in good health.
“It certainly wasn’t! This is the last favor you’ll be getting from me.” The Doctor grumbled, walking to the console and setting the coordinates back to Alpha’s home planet.
“I understand you are keen for your offspring to follow in your…Um…Tentacle steps, but you have to face it, Alpha, Madison is as diplomatic as a dentist drill.”
Madison’s eyelid drooped at the harsh, if apt, description of her diplomatic abilities. Alpha sighed.
“Thank you for your help, Doctor. I apologize if this put you under any undue stress-”
“Undue stress!?” the Doctor interrupted, uncharacteristically loud.

“I drop in to see you for a nice cup of tea, and instead you send me off to a barbarian planet with your ANNOYING offspring to test her diplomatic prowess. Within the first three minutes Madison reduced the King to tears, within ten we were being shut away in a prison cell for heresy. I have a headache from Madison’s constant wining, my socks are full of mud and now the entire planet is on the brink of war!”

Shaking his head dismally, Alpha sighed again.
“I can promise you that this will never occur again. Madison will be sufficiently reprimanded, and your future visits will, indeed, be met with tea.”
“I should hope so,” the Doctor grumbled as they landed.
“Goodbye, Doctor.” Alpha tentatively held out a tentacle for the Doctor to shake. Unable to stay cross for long, the Doctor smiled and took the proffered limb.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Alpha, even if you do have irritating children.” He opened the doors and Madison scuttled outside. Alpha followed irritatedly. The Doctor could hear Alpha’s recriminations long after the two green aliens had shuffled out of sight.

He had met Alpha in his third regeneration, and ever since had been dropping in for tea every once in a while. He was in his eighth regeneration now, but their friendship was just as strong. Sighing, the Doctor went to the TARDIS laundry to try and salvage his socks.
The Doctor had been traveling alone for quite some time now, and this meant that his old failsafe of snaffling his companions’ socks was of no use. It was silly, he reflected, that the TARDIS wardrobe has every type of clothing conceivable, but not the common sock.

“I want to buy a pair of socks!” The Doctor sang to himself, dancing about the TARDIS’s hexagonal console excitedly. He had shoes that fit perfectly, but his socks were always sagging. It seemed such a minor detail, yet when you were put on trial by the Time Lords or being chased by Daleks, they could make all the difference.
He set the coordinates for 20th century Earth, the continent of Australia. If he landed at the right time of year, the city of Sydney’s Paddy’s markets would be open, and that was where he would buy his socks. It had not only a very good range, but he could buy an oversized lollypop too.

He had always been very partial to oversized confectionary. He could still remember his delight that day he had visited the universes’ largest jelly baby. Five meters tall and two meters wide. Pity that he had eaten it, but he really couldn’t resist.

The customary wheezing sound of the TARDIS landing interrupted his reverie. Opening the doors, he stepped outside.
“Well, this isn’t Sydney.” He said, rather disappointedly. Another adventure with floppy socks awaited him. With a sigh, he locked the TARDIS doors and stepped into the yellow glare.

*******

The Enterprise circled the yellow planet like a chicken on a turntable. Well, almost.

“Oh no, you mean that there’s more?” Kirk demanded, massaging his sore temples. McCoy apologetically nodded, shuffling his feet.
“I honestly didn’t allow for Spock’s blood type. I didn’t think that the effect would be so long lasting and severe…” McCoy trailed off, doing his best to look small and inoffensive.
“You agreed to it in the first place, captain.” commented Uhura, who had just entered. Thank god for that, thought McCoy. He gave Uhura an emphatic look of thanks and slipped tentatively into the corridor, leaving her to calm the livid captain.

It honestly wasn’t his fault…Well, not really. He had meant it as a laugh, a minor diversion for the crew, or at least an interesting psychology experiment. How horribly wrong it had all gone. He had left Spock with the Coke as planned, intending to find him later and see what had happened. All seemed well for about ten minutes, and he was about to go looking for the Vulcan when the Vulcan found him.

“Leonard!” Spock had cried, stumbling into the medical bay. At first McCoy thought that there was something terribly wrong, such was the anguish in Spock’s voice.
“My pants! They’re too short for me!” Spock continued, dropping the empty coke bottle onto the floor with a clatter.
“They’ve been like that for all this time and no-one told me!” Spock was almost sobbing now, eyebrows waggling alarmingly.
“I’ve been to all those planets looking so silly!” McCoy was backing away, hoping to avoid the Vulcan’s flailing arms.

“Do you know how that makes me feel, Leonard? Lenny Len? Like a child who has no nose! No nose, Lenny! No nose!”
McCoy was edging for the door.
“Heee. Like a Klingon. They have noses, but they’ve got none anyway.” Spock had flopped onto McCoy’s desk and broke into a high-pitched giggle.
“No noses for Klingons. Hee hee. No nose, Lenny-chair, no nose!”
In one movement, McCoy opened the door and fled down the corridor. Then he had run to tell the captain what had happened.

Since then things had only got worse. Spock had removed his pants and had replaced them with a pajama top tied like an elaborate loincloth. He had decided that it would be a good idea to go swimming in the engine room and had got quite aggressive when Scotty pointed out there was no water. Now he was running about this ship, wibbling. He had made up the word ‘wibble’ during a bout of singing about how Romulans have no noses either, and decided to give it an action.

He wibbled past McCoy now, waving his arms about and yelling “WIBBLE!” as the move required. Feeling downright exhausted, McCoy decided to go sedate himself for a while. Hopefully things would be better when he awakened.

Spock had calmed somewhat, and it seemed his wibbling fit had ended. It had taken five hours for the effects of this ‘Coke’ to wear off, but it was a relief for all when it had. Wibbling, Spock noted, was a most illogical thing to do. He made a mental note not to wibble in future, if at all possible. He had replaced his pants, ignoring their shortness, and was now on the bridge, trying to regain his dignity.

“Glad to have you back, Spock.” The captain geered.
“Captain, something’s happening!” Yelled Checkov, leaning out of a ventilation duct. Spock, mid wibble, had picked the poor Russian up and jammed him there, and it seemed he was stuck until appropriate cutting equipment could be found.
“What?” Asked Kirk.
“I don’t know. Something. Some kind of wooshey black hole thing.” Checkov answered.
“Oh.” Kirk blinked.

“Could you give me a more accurate description, Spock?” the captain asked.
“It appears that on the surface of the planet that we are currently in orbit around has exhibited some special anomaly that our instruments have picked up.” Spock obliged, feeling curiously light-headed.
“Wibble.” he added involuntarily, elbows twitching. Thankfully the feeling passed.
“What kind of space anomaly?” Kirk asked.
“A form of wooshey black hole occurrence.” Spock answered.
“I suggest we have a closer look, captain.”

Standing dramatically, Kirk looked into the distance and said
“Spock, McCoy and I will beam down and investigate this wooshey black hole anomaly! Prepare to beam us places, Scotty!”
And so Scotty did.

*******

“Looks like any other yellow planet to me,” Jack said as soon as Sam, Daniel, Janet and Teal'c had come through the gate. Daniel immediately spotted an ancient rune carved into a rock on the ground and scuttled away to translate it.
“Yes, but there is no one here.” Sam said, looking down at the new life-scanner thingy the wise and short Ancients had given them. Teal'c went to help Daniel move the stone he had found.

“Oh no, wait, now there is.” Sam’s comment was ignored, because a blue police box had just appeared nearby. The door opened and a shortish man with curly, longish brown hair popped his head out. He didn’t notice the stargate crew, and seemed to be saying something about Sydney. With a big sigh he closed the doors of the blue box and took in a lungful of the yellow planet’s air.

“Hey, you!” called out Jack, instinctively cradling his gun.
“Hello!” the man waved at them. Sam couldn’t help but smile at the way his Victorian coat was just a tiny bit too big for him.
“I’m the Doctor.” He said, walking towards them confidently. Jack pointed his gun at the mans’ head.
“Right, buddy, some explanations, now!”

Meanwhile, hidden behind a small rocky outcrop, Daniel and Teal'c were straining to move the rock. They looked up as three figures shimmered into existence. They were clad in tight tops, two in blue and one in yellow. The taller one, who had pointy ears and whose pants were too short for him, said something that sounded like “Wibble”.

Daniel blinked as the one in yellow said
“We come in peace.” and drew some kind of weapon. Teal'c raised an eyebrow. So did the tall, pointy eared man.
“I am captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise, this is Dr. McCoy and that is Spock.” said the one in yellow, taking a step forward.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“You’d better talk to Jack,” Daniel gulped, and led McCoy and Kirk around the rocky outcrop. Teal'c and Spock were staring fixedly at each other, single eyebrows raising rapidly.

After the Doctor had introduced himself to Kirk and McCoy, everyone put their guns away and explained why they were on the planet. Janet and McCoy hit it off immediately and began to have an animated conversation about patella and related topics. Kirk and Jack soon relaxed and began comparing notes on intergalactic seduction. Daniel felt rather left out, and decided he would talk to the Doctor. He was about to tap the Doctor on the shoulder when a very loud
“WIBBLE!” distracted him. The others, engrossed in conversation didn’t notice, so Daniel and the Doctor went to investigate together.

Spock and Teal'c were glaring at each other, single eyebrows raised so high that it almost looked as if their heads would explode. Teal'c was very still, but the strain had got to Spock and reverted him back into a Coke induced behavioral pattern.
“Wibble Wibble Wibble Wibble Wibble!” he was muttering, waving his arms around agitatedly and hopping from foot to foot.

“I wonder if he normally does that.” the Doctor mused, but Daniel shook his head.
“Typical Coke-induced high. Teal'c did that too when he tried to drink the stuff.”
“Yes, but I wubbled.” Teal'c pointed out, eyebrow inching higher.
“Nonononon, you should wibble!” said Spock.
“To Wibble or Wubble, that is the question!” said the Doctor, pulling a tape measure from his pocket.
“I’d rather wobble.” said Daniel, wondering if he was ever going to translate the interesting runes he discovered. The Doctor strolled to Teal'c, carefully measuring how high his eyebrow had raised. He then did the same to Spock, who obligingly stopped wibbling long enough.

“It’s a tie!” he declared happily.
“Five centimeters each. You are both very talented bipeds.”

Their eyebrow duel brought to a conclusive close, Teal'c returned to helping Daniel move the stone, and Spock wibbled away.

“Who knows what adventures we are going to have,” the Doctor said, mysteriously peering out at you.
“We’ll just have to wait and see!”