The comms blared, a jarring counterpoint to the otherwise serene hum of the Zvezda module on the small last manned station of a lost planet. The Doctor, self-proclaimed "Keeper of Unlikely High Quality Artifacts", jolted awake. Cosmonaut Houbanov, perpetually clad in his faded Sputnik t-shirt stumbled in, face pale.

"Doctor! Sector Gamma! Anomaly!" Houbanov gasped, gesturing wildly.

The Doctor, ever the professional, followed Houbanov to a viewport. There, eclipsing a vast part in the station's peripheral vision, hung the planet's second moon. Except... it wasn't quite the second moon. Attached to its surface, like a malignant barnacle, was a colossal robot. It was a huge, blocky yet elegant thing of shiny metal, antennae bristling, eyes glowing in an ominous red.

"It's... the legend," Houbanov whispered. "The Moonbot! They said it was just a crazy story the engineers told to scare recruits during the Metal War. A backup plan... in case of absolute annihilation."

The Moonbot XYRSN-25 shifted. It descended on the planet's surface giant hands outstretched towards the station. Panic seized the Doctor. He knew the legend; a failsafe weapon designed to terraform Earth and all inhabited planets of the galaxy back into primordial sludge, resetting civilization should it destroy itself.

"Houbanov! Get me the sonic drumsticks!" the Doctor barked, rummaging through his seemingly bottomless satchel. "We need a distraction!"

Houbanov, surprisingly quick on his feet, returned with a dented toolbox and his battered five-string bass guitar. The Doctor grabbed a modified wrench and with the sonic drumsticks amplifying its signal reprogrammed a communication satellite.

Suddenly the Moonbot's eyes swiveled towards the station. But instead of firing its world-ending lasers it began to… dance.

Distorted strains of drumbeats and hammering electric bass sounds amplified a thousandfold reverberated through the atmosphere. The Moonbot was attempting to execute a clumsy, ground-shattering dance.

The Doctor realized the failsafe wasn't fully activated. It required a reason. It needed an apocalypse. He knew Houbanov and he had time.

"Houbanov aim your bass lines directly at the Robot," the Doctor yelled above the spontaneously combusting heavy music-infused chaos, “Get the synths! We're going to need very strong waves for this." He knew this was only the beginning. Stopping a  giant dancing Moonbot would be harder than everything they faced before. And they only had time before the Moonbot grew tired of dancing and moved on to the real apocalypse.