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Right Place, Wrong Time

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It was the roughest landing Jack had ever known. He groaned, and looked round. Snow, a smouldering building, an old guy in Victorian clothes. Gas lamps, horse-drawn vehicles. Nineteenth Century.

How had that happened? He checked his wrist but the co-ordinates were correct. Something had pulled him off course. And burned out his Vortex Manipulator.

It took a moment for that to sink in. No more time-travel. He was stuck in Victorian Britain, over a hundred years before he could expect to find a version of the Doctor who'd remember him. Jack would almost certainly never see the Doctor again.