Fur Coat, on the King’s single click of fingers, spits the phone box out.  It is no longer pinned to the mast.  The Doctor looks pleased.

“Apologise!” the Captain orders suddenly, as he’s himself again and holding a short knife to the King’s throat.

But the King’s planet backs out a little while Fur Coat’s giant extended sleeves seem to shrink – with much noise, not unlike howling – releasing the planet as it begins to float backwards.

“Where is my planet going?” the King wonders.

“This isn’t my doing,” the Doctor observes.

“Now, there’s an opening,” the Doctor says as he steadies himself in the middle of the ship, ready to climb up the anchor’s rope.

“Take me with you,” the King begs, “please.”

“You belong to your planet,” the Doctor says, “and it’s abandoning you.”

“It’s leaving, your Majesté, because your planet is emotional and jealous of your new coat,” Labaguette insists.

“A she-planet, huh?” the Doctor wonders.

“Apologise!” the Captain repeats.

“Yes, a she-planet like you’ve never seen or explored before,” the King explains, a trader of some sorts.

The Doctor grabs the Captain by the neck of his shirt taking him off the King and has the King stand by his side.

“How interesting,” he says to the King, “come with me.”

And in less time than it took for the Captain to get an eye on each side of his head implemented by two different brains, the Doctor and the King disappear up the rope.  The anchor lifts, the phone box disappears and the King’s planet vanishes into space.

To be continued…


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