“Where is the Tardis taking us, Doctor?” Amelia Pond gasped, her knuckles white from the grip she had on the bar of the machine’s controls. Her auburn hair neatly combed became frizzy around her pale face. The floor, the walls, and everything around her shook like a tremendous earthquake inside the encased box she went abroad months ago.

  Lights blinked on and off, flashing around the control room. Sparks flew off the machine, the Tardis groaning in protest as it swirled around in the time vortex past beyond the cracks through the universe.

  Doing his best to press all the buttons and flip the switch to stop the spaceship from having a stroke, nothing the Doctor did worked. Holding on the edge of his console, he clumsily moved to the screen showing what date of history they were going to land.

  On the screen, it read: Error. The eleventh Doctor swirled around in a panic, “Clara Osbelm, do you have any suggestions?”

  Clara scoffed in disbelief, her darkened brown eyes widening in confusion, “This is your spaceship, Doctor.” As the Tardis was equally rankled like her, the metal parts in it snatched off, rubbing on one another’s broken parts and grinded. It left an ear splitting noise of nails against chalk.

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  “Well, you’re my impossible girl,” the Doctor exclaimed loudly. None of the buttons he pressed or turned the wheel did anything so as the least resort, he banged his fist on the controls.

  Flickers of fire proofed from his machine, smoke coming out of it. Wherever the Tardis traveled to, it came to shut down and cave itself in. The beams holding the support light fixtures ripped apart and fell down with a deafening crash.

  Amelia screamed, barely being missed from the iron beam. Snapping up the Doctor, she rasped and flinched from the cords electrifying, “Why is she so against taking us to the prison?”

  Pointing his screwdriver at his controls, the sonic probe buzzled and the Doctor looked at its reading. Sparks burst from behind him but didn’t move an inch as he read it. “Because Amy, it seems we followed the wrong crack.” He stared at his two companions in the realization where they had journeyed to. “This crack doesn’t led to the prison, but–”

  The Tardis slammed on its landing, the time travelers flying onto the glass flooring. The smoke burst from the console, the three of them coughing and waving their hands to clear the dust away. From the crashing, the last beam above them loosened and came heavily down.

  It impelled the Doctor, blood spurting out of his right chest. Before Clara and Amy could run to him, the dust and smoke clouded their vision and a scent of detection of lavender filled their nostrils before darkness took over.