INTRODUCTION.
This story runs to over 80,000 words. Rely on frequent breaks. Stretch your legs. Reverse the polarity, and all that. Let’s get the legal stuff out of the way.
The BBC TV series DOCTOR WHO remains © to the BBC and assorted © holders. Terry Nation’s estate and the Daleks, for example. The story, however, is mine, © RLL, 2006, 2012.
The BBC TV series DOCTOR WHO remains © to the BBC and assorted © holders. Terry Nation’s estate and the Daleks, for example. The story, however, is mine, © RLL, 2006, 2012.
Welcome to TWICE AROUND THE LIGHTHOUSE. This book has been relegated to the endless pastures of fan fiction. I’m a fan – I wrote some fiction.
This is a DOCTOR WHO story. It’s considered a big no-no to write the first ever story. I don’t know how many first-evers there are out there. Anyway, that’s what I did. I wrote one of these first-ever stories, framed within a larger tale.
The BBC TV show was off the air. (It ran 1963 – 1989.) Suddenly, it returned. (2005.) With it, came a new line of BBC tie-in books. I bought a few in a promotional sale, to absorb the layout. Then I wrote this book.
My format runs to seven chapters. Three chapters tell the story. Chapter four is a flashback to the Doctor’s departure from Gallifrey. The remaining three chapters finish the tale.
My format runs to seven chapters. Three chapters tell the story. Chapter four is a flashback to the Doctor’s departure from Gallifrey. The remaining three chapters finish the tale.
While I was waiting to hear from the BBC, I wrote a sequel. HOME IN TIME FOR TEA. The format for that is the same. Three chapters tell the story. The fourth chapter deals with the Doctor and his granddaughter Susan in flashback.
I was just getting into the meat of chapter six when the BBC rejected the first book. So I stopped the second book. Stone. Cold. Dead. Turned to other things.
I was just getting into the meat of chapter six when the BBC rejected the first book. So I stopped the second book. Stone. Cold. Dead. Turned to other things.
There was a sense of irony to it all. The first book was rejected on the basis that I wasn’t contributing scripts to the TV show, even though episodes of the TV show were based on books written while the show had been off the air. (Ouch.)
No big deal. I’d spent a week writing TWICE AROUND THE LIGHTHOUSE. Could I rehash the tale? Run a FIND AND REPLACE sequence on the names? Change characters? Keep events? Not really. This was a story about the Doctor. The book was no use if the BBC didn’t want it.
Now that I’m publishing my own work on Amazon Kindle, I periodically look to the vaults to see what use I might make of the dusty items lying there. The Doctor’s adventures were worth giving to an audience. I glanced at fan fiction…
Unofficial stuff. Put out there by people who wanted to tell stories. This is tolerated by the BBC as it keeps the brand going in all sorts of out-of-the-way places. Sometimes, fans go on to work on the official side of things.
Writers who work for nothing had best be careful of the wares they peddle. In my case, this free dose of storytelling has no other outlet except as fan fiction.
Unless I ran a FIND AND REPLACE routine and conducted a major overhaul into the bargain, this story was going to stay stuck in its digital drawer.
Unless I ran a FIND AND REPLACE routine and conducted a major overhaul into the bargain, this story was going to stay stuck in its digital drawer.
An experiment. Curio. Afterthought. Now that I run this blog, though, I’ve seen fan fiction in action. Why not give the story away?
If it reaches DOCTOR WHO fans, they might transfer a taste for my story to a taste for my books. Just go to Amazon Kindle store, type RLL, and you will find my work. Plug over.
If it reaches DOCTOR WHO fans, they might transfer a taste for my story to a taste for my books. Just go to Amazon Kindle store, type RLL, and you will find my work. Plug over.
What to say of this piece of fiction? Assorted images come from the TV show – though not the cover. I photographed that police box on the streets of Glasgow
You’ll find the original on Buchanan Street. That particular police box is blue – though for many years the existing boxes were red. Just a Scottish thing.
Right then. Here’s the original rear-cover blurb, and an idea for the cover, followed by seven chapters of the first book and chapter one of the sequel. On with the show…
You’ll find the original on Buchanan Street. That particular police box is blue – though for many years the existing boxes were red. Just a Scottish thing.
Right then. Here’s the original rear-cover blurb, and an idea for the cover, followed by seven chapters of the first book and chapter one of the sequel. On with the show…
BLURB.
Rose returns from a pleasant day off to find that there’s more to the Doctor, and the TARDIS, than meets the eye. For a traveller steeped in time, he’s reluctant to discuss his past in detail.
Even when that Time Lord past catches up with him – with potentially disastrous results for the entire space-time continuum. (Which includes a small tearoom in a supposedly sleepy English village.)
Even when that Time Lord past catches up with him – with potentially disastrous results for the entire space-time continuum. (Which includes a small tearoom in a supposedly sleepy English village.)
With the TARDIS trapped on Earth by an unknown alien force, the Doctor must struggle to overcome more than a mere glitch in time – if he’s to prevent Rose Tyler, Apprentice Time Lord, facing a fate far worse than death…
PROPOSED COVER.
Alien jungle backdrop, with a dark patch showing where foliage was hacked through. Trail through grassland as though two people have walked through the grass, leading to the focus of the foreground action.
Foreground close-up shot of a picnic scene. Hamper. Cloth. Assorted picnic utensils laid out. No figures visible. Nearest the viewer, an upturned pith helmet contains an apple and a mobile phone.
Foreground close-up shot of a picnic scene. Hamper. Cloth. Assorted picnic utensils laid out. No figures visible. Nearest the viewer, an upturned pith helmet contains an apple and a mobile phone.
TWICE AROUND THE LIGHTHOUSE.
Past.
“Hello?”
“You don’t seem terribly sure of the greeting.”
“Ah, hello. I thought I heard someone crashing around in the woods.”
“That makes two of us. I just stepped in there to see what all the fuss was about.”
“Find anything?”
“An unusually tall tree. Surrounded by twigs. Something was rooting around in there.”
The two figures standing on the rough country road peered at each other in conditions of pitch darkness. Those snap-crackle sounds stopped as soon as the stranger stepped onto the road. An uneasy silence lengthened, as only the uneasy form of silence can. The human chose to break that silence.
“I’m Dudley Simpson. In charge of the local Post Office.”
“Is it far?”
“Are you lost?”
“I’m a long way from home.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Town, I suppose.”
“Looking for a place to stay?”
“Yes. I am.”
“How did you get here?”
“I drove.”
“Lost your car?”
“Stuck in the mud.”
“I didn’t catch your name.”
“Town’s this way, you say?”
“Yes.”
“I never give my name. Not easily, at any rate. What are you doing out at this time, Mr Simpson?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Saw a flash of light in the sky. Decided to investigate.”
“Ah.”
“Bloody dark, eh. Well, that’s night for you.”
“I can fix that.”
The stranger moved. There was a rasping sound. Dudley ’s night-vision melted in the glare of a very powerful match which the stranger held in the firmest grasp. The wind picked up, but the match wasn’t affected. Dudley found the sight fascinating.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Doctor.”
“We already have a Doctor in Fenby.”
“I’m not that sort of Doctor.”
“Oh.”
“Shall we?”
“I’ll show the way then, shall I?”
“Yes. I don’t think that wild dog will attack us if we stick together.”
“Do you suppose it was a big dog?”
“Mm. Tell me about the light in the sky.”
“Lightning, I think. But I heard no thunder.”
“Anything unusual happen here, lately, Dudley ? Apart from thunder-free lightning, that is.”
“No. Why?”
“If I’m to buy a house in the area, I’d like to know more about the place.”
“Is it the Grange you’re after?”
“Possibly.”
“Fanciest bit of property hereabouts. All that finery going to waste. An expensive proposition, though. Even for a Doctor of…”
“Money is no object.”
“That’s a peculiar match you have there.”
“Yes.”
“Slow-burning, is it? Looks as though the flame might last forever.”
“Mm. I picked up a packet in Gallifrey. Have you ever been to Ireland
“No. Is that where you’re from, Doctor…”
“Lions. With an i. I’m not Irish.”
“No. You don’t sound Irish.”
“I’m a terrible one for dates. It’s late. Have we crossed over into tomorrow?”
“Is it the next day, you mean? Yes. It’s Monday morning.”
“I’ll have to pick up a newspaper.”
“Be happy to sell you one from my Post Office.”
“Nothing strange happened, then?”
“It’s been quiet here. We haven’t had any excitement since the war ended.”
“Seems like yesterday.”
“I know. Hard to believe we’re half a decade on from the big finish. And the Germans are stirring up trouble again.”
“Odd year, 1923.”
“It’s not over yet.”
“No. How far to Fenby?”
“A mile. Where’s your car?”
“I’ll find it again in daylight.”
“Sh. Hear that?”
“No.”
“Imagination.”
“Lead on.”
“Right. This way, Doctor.”
Doctor Lions, with an i, and Dudley Simpson, Postmaster, carried on along the country road. Behind them, three dull steel figures stood watching through the trees. Like Doctor Lions, they weren’t from Earth. They scanned the darkness, and spotted the two figures walking calmly away.
The light-source bobbed as the Doctor matched Dudley Simpson’s pace. Instead of attacking the figures from behind, the three metal constructs watched until the two men disappeared around the corner. Now no one would hear the crunching and crackling of twigs as the aliens moved through the woods looking for their target.
Dudley Simpson had heard Doctor Lions blundering around in the dark. Just him. No big dog. All down to imagination. The Postmaster wondered why the Doctor had blundered around in the gloom, given that the chap carried matches to see by. Even slow-burning matches wouldn’t last long. That’s it. And he’d stumbled onto the road anyway. Yes.
Doctor Lions wasn’t a happy man. He’d had his car run off the road by a bunch of inconsiderate louts, and he wanted to give them a piece of his mind. Caught out by the interfering Postmaster, the Doctor had no choice but to resort to illumination.
Someone would pay for the damage done to his car. He knew that certain someone was on the other side of the woods, watching, as he walked away. Well, someone could watch. Now that the Postmaster had waltzed into proceedings, there was no scope for concealment.
Who were they? These inconsiderate louts. What did they want? And how had they managed to damage his car? They’d go looking for his car. That’s what they were doing, lurking there, in the woods. Trying to find it, stuck in the mud.
Let the inconsiderate yobs flounder in the dark. Without the keys, the car was no use to them. They’d made a mistake in letting the driver go. Doctor Lions stayed as calm as he could. He’d been severely rattled by the crash. When he stepped out of the damaged vehicle, and found that he’d steered to a halt behind a massive tree, he felt relieved.
And then he felt very angry at feeling relieved after an inconvenient tumble. He glowered as he walked along in the Postmaster’s company. In the morning, he’d buy the house that the Postmaster mentioned. Then he’d set to work investigating the origin of the light in the sky.
The three metal men started moving again. They crossed the road and snap-crackled their way over a carpet of twigs. No one watched them go about their business. Stopping, scanning. Confirming. Finding their target.
Speech was unimportant. The metal men beamed messages to one another. The sight of three apparently silent faceless human shapes pausing to consider unspoken messages would have sent the Postmaster running into Fenby, had he stayed long enough to encounter the metallic monsters.
*Do you think those men were out looking for us?*
*Unlikely. Those men were probably attracted by the sight of our reinforcements. In the sky.*
*I’m picking up a stronger reading.*
*Yes. Behind that tree.*
*Perhaps more humans will come here.*
*We should disguise ourselves.*
*Agreed.*
*And we should speak aloud. To maintain a more natural feel.*
The three metal men had studied many aspects of human culture from orbit. In short, they’d come prepared. No sound accompanied the change. One moment, three faceless robotic machines stood in front of an enormous tree. The next, they were replaced by three men with the look of villagers about them. Half-local, and half-yokel.
“Let’s check around.”
“Here.”
“Careful. No mistakes. This will be dangerous.”
Chapter One.
Deeper past.
Dawn was the beautiful sight no one was there to see. Two spectators turned up far too early, left, and returned just in time to miss the sunrise. One of the spectators was desperate to see the sunrise. He was excited. The other thought that the first spectator was just desperate; she spoke first.
“I told you we’d miss it. Rummaging around.”
“And you were wrong. We’ve missed it by miles.”
“Last time we were here, there wasn’t a planet to view a sunrise on.”
“Slight miscalculation. We just turned up too early last time.”
“Billions of years too early to see a great sunrise on a beautiful planet.”
“A beautiful sunrise. Which we managed to miss. One so beautiful that it would be worth crossing Time and Space to see, even if we didn’t have the ability to cross time and space. An ability which, fortunately for us, we do happen to possess.”
“You say that as though my mini-lecture about time and rummaging grated on your nerves. Did you just capitalise Time and Space to make it sound more important?”
“We were here earlier, and missed the sunrise. Too early. No planet to stand on. No. I made Time and Space sound more important by placing extra stress on the words. You added the capitals mentally.”
“And now we’ve come in just a bit too late.”
“Are you going to lecture me again? There was nothing mini about that earlier lecture, by the way. I have an extended lifespan, and even I was bored.”
“That’s what you get for materialising your time machine inside a dense patch of jungle. Bad enough. But that twenty-minute rummage for a machete really got on my nerves.”
“Not as annoying as the twenty-minute lecture accompanying the twenty-minute rummage. You could have chipped in with a few songs. I found the machete, didn’t I? And the machete proved invaluable in carving a path to the grassy plains.”
“You could have moved the TARDIS a few hundred feet over the way. And saved a lot of bother.”
“Far too easy.”
“Yeah.”
“Using a time machine as a glorified taxi. Didn’t want to hurt the old girl’s feelings. You know how temperamental the TARDIS can be.”
“I know how temperamental its owner can be.”
“Anyway, I needed the exercise. And I wanted a chance to use this machete.”
“Hand it over here when you’re done with it. I’d quite like the chance to use that machete myself.”
“Can I help being a bit rusty at jungle-clearance techniques?”
“Is that the fancy term for chopping green stuff?”
“Yeah. Chopping green stuff. Don’t you just love it?!”
“No. What can you see?”
“The grassy plains. And the sunrise has beaten us to them. You haven’t misplaced the picnic hamper, have you?”
“Hope not. I’m sitting on it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Let me check. Unless a shapeshifting alien has gradually consumed the hamper and taken its place, then, no. I haven’t misplaced the hamper which I am quite sure I’m sitting on.”
“No need to be sniffy. Be honest. Is it the costume I recommended?”
“Khaki shorts, jungle boots, an explorer’s blouse, and a pith helmet. All in my size.”
“Stop moaning. I wanted to wear the pith helmet.”
“Be my guest. What is that thing on your head?”
“A propeller-driven beanie cap. Once the wind picks up, the propeller should start to spin.”
“If your heart is set on a bit of jungle exploration, why am I the one dressed like a cartoonist’s version of an explorer?”
“Ambience.”
“You’re taking the piss, Doctor.”
“Come on, Rose. When have I ever done that?”
“The TARDIS might be larger on the inside than on the outside, but even the TARDIS isn’t large enough to store the list.”
“Which list is that?”
“The list of the times you’ve taken the piss.”
“Nonsense. That list would only fill half a TARDIS. Come on. As day-trips go, this should be a peach. Twice around the lighthouse, and home in time for tea.”
“Chips.”
“Yes, we’ll have chips for tea. High satiety value.”
“Eh?”
“They make you feel full after you’ve had them.”
“Why didn’t you just say, instead of blithering on about High Society.”
“Now you’re the one taking the piss.”
“Rubbish. Give me a hand with this hamper.”
“I suppose I’ll have to, now there’s no more chunky green stuff to chop through.”
*
The dark-haired young-looking alien known as the Doctor was itching to get back into his regular clothes. For this outing, he’d chosen a jungle-green shirt and a pair of similarly-hued jeans which definitely weren’t of the designer-label variety. The propeller-driven beanie cap on his head was bright red.
He breathed deep of some glorious-smelling alien air, and pretended to scan the grassy horizon meaningfully, as his assistant assisted by throwing a large roll of cloth onto the grass.
He breathed deep of some glorious-smelling alien air, and pretended to scan the grassy horizon meaningfully, as his assistant assisted by throwing a large roll of cloth onto the grass.
“Mind your feet.”
“Listen to that breeze! Fantastic.”
“I am Lee Marvin. Can we get on with this?”
“Come again?”
“I said I’m starvin’.”
“Oh. Rhyming slang. Thought this was a war-movie for a moment. Which one of The Dirty Dozen would you be?”
“Harpo. Let’s eat.”
“We should get you back to Earth soon. Your roots are showing. Drop you off at the hairdresser.”
“That’s the fashion. Dark roots showing through blonde tresses. Duh!”
“Oh. I don’t keep up with fashion. Occupational hazard of being a time traveller.”
“Speaking of which, what is it with those green jeans?”
“I’m the green genie.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Must be the tall grass.”
“No explorer jokes, please.”
“If I’m the Doctor, you must be Stanley
The blonde-(ish) girl in the explorer’s outfit cracked open a chilled bottled of water and glugged down as much as she could in one go. The heat was intense. Very bright light, all of a sudden. She kept her helmet on. The Doctor’s red beanie propeller picked up speed. Rose Tyler felt the heat squirm under the veiled breeze. Now the light was intense and weird. How many suns were in the sky?
“Help yourself to sandwiches, Doctor. Bloody warm and bright, eh?”
“Second sunrise. It’s going to be a scorcher. What did you pick up?”
“Egg and cress, for starters. The classic picnic selection. Strawberries. Water. I should’ve brought something for the sun. Or suns?”
“Yeah. Suns.”
“If that propeller gets up to eighty-eight miles per hour, do you take off?”
“No, but the hat does.”
“We won’t be attacked here, will we?”
“You won’t. I will.”
“Great. I knew I should have packed an elephant gun.”
“No elephants around to show you how to use one. Hey, there’s always the machete. And we can run and hide down by that river if we have to. Hamper’s an obvious hiding place. Too easy.”
The green-attired Doctor threw himself back on the picnic rug and settled down for a one-eyed nap. His blonde (-ish) assistant munched an egg and cress sandwich, and savoured more cool water. She couldn’t fathom the guy. He was an alien. And not just any alien. He was a Time Lord. The Doctor hadn’t merely travelled across space to visit Earth.
He’d vaulted across time to say hello. And to say run for your life. One adventure after another. Hop in. See the galaxy. Then see another galaxy. Be menaced by aliens on a regular basis. Always come away smiling, having absorbed a piece of information of no use in Rose’s regular life back on Earth. Not that she had a regular life back on Earth.
She was Rose Tyler. Blonde assistant. And she travelled in the Doctor’s wheezy old time machine, the TARDIS. A vessel which had an exterior dimensional interface incompatible with, but directly linked to, the interior dimensional interface.
In other words, the box-shaped object was quite small. If you went by exterior appearances. And bloody huge inside. Larger than the outside. She still had trouble dealing with it, in her dreams. Her dreams had certainly grown stranger since joining the Doctor. She didn’t dare call the TARDIS a wheezy old time machine. Rose would end up hurting some alien’s feelings.
“What was that about being attacked?”
“I’ve been here before. More than once. In the future.”
“Only a time traveller could get away with saying that.”
“No, Rose. Only a time traveller could get away with doing that.”
“Where are we, then? You said it was a surprise.”
“Surprise. We are lying here, having a picnic, on what will one day be the blasted ruin of the planet Skaro. Home, eventually, to the Daleks.”
Rose shuddered. Of all the aliens she’d seen, the Daleks seemed the most absurd. And the most dangerous. Outsized pepper-pots, with attitude. She’d gone through a lot, facing the Dalek threat. A threat the Doctor thought destroyed. But, where time travel was concerned, you could never be sure.
“This is a beautiful place, Doctor.”
“Mm. I wanted…well. Yeah, it’s daft to say so. But I wanted someone to be guaranteed a nice day on Skaro. Just once. All that grumbling about chopping green stuff aside, of course.”
“So. The Daleks grow up here.”
“Sad to say. They don’t stick in at school. Soon they hit the gin, ride off on their spaceships, and tear up the cosmic neighbourhood.”
“Why don’t you do something about it? Right now? Before the trouble starts.”
“Been there. Done that. Several times. I do have something in mind, though.”
“Don’t be all mysterious.”
“That’s part of my charm.”
“No, Doctor, that’s part of your irritating manner.”
“Yes. My charming irritating manner. Well. The first time I landed on Skaro…ah, that’s old news.”
“Go on.”
“I’d picked up some passengers. Schoolteachers. And…”
“From Earth.”
“Yeah. Sort of a school-trip. Well, to cut a long story short, I found these Daleks in a city. And I gave them a bit of a kicking.”
“Good for you.”
“I thought so. Then, the second time I went to Skaro. That was earlier. Before the first time I went to Skaro. Time travel’s funny that way. You have to watch what you’re doing. I was on a mission for the Time Lords.”
“On a mission. Sounds very James Bond.”
“I can be James Bond. Where’s my identity card?”
The Doctor slipped his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and hauled out a flimsy wallet thingy, as he called it. This had space inside for his official identity card. The window in the wallet held a piece of psychic notepaper, which informed the reader that the holder of the paper was…whoever he or she wanted to be.
“Psychic notepaper. I love this stuff. What I like to think of as an Intergalactic Identity Card. Go on, who am I? I’ll tell you. Bond – James Bond.”
“Terrific. I’d be much more inclined to believe you if the text didn’t read HARRY SALTZMAN and ALBERT R. BROCCOLI present JAMES BOND 007 in IAN FLEMING’S ‘ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE’, rated an A and starring GEORGE LAZENBY, DIANA RIGG. With TELLY SAVALAS as Blofeld.”
“Oops. Carried away again.”
“Maybe you should be. Carry on Doctor. I don’t mean…as in a Carry On film. Or maybe I do.”
“You have a go. Surprise me.”
“My name is Pussy Galore.”
“And here I thought you’d be Oddjob.”
“I’m wearing the wrong type of hat.”
“Yes. Helmet. Sorry. Didn’t mean to take the pith.”
“Ha ha.”
*
Suns beat down. Sandwiches were, in the Doctor’s words, the only things to be exterminated on Skaro that day. Rose gazed at the scenery. Grassland, leading into sudden jungle behind them. Ahead, and down the slight slope, a cool river twinkled seductively. Could a cool river twinkle seductively? It certainly beckoned.
Rose fished around in the hamper for more water. The Doctor rambled about machetes. The heat was fierce without the breeze, and the Doctor’s propeller wasn’t spinning. Her alien associate – her boss? He wasn’t bothered by the heat. What was he bothered by?
He was quite annoyed when chip shops stopped serving chips wrapped in newspaper. You’d think a time traveller wouldn’t care. He’d just keep nipping back to earlier times. Much as he’d done today. Skaro. This was the beautiful uncivilised Skaro. A planet which would grow uglier as it became more civilised. Utterly bizarre.
“Tell me about the Time Lords. They’re gone now. But back then…”
“You mean the mission? Yeah. This was back in the bad old days, when the Time Lords would occasionally interfere with my cosmic fun. Send me to scary places. They sent me here. I ended up in a bunker, which is situated right under our picnic. Well, it will be. When the people evolve to the point at which bunker building becomes fashionable.”
“The Time Lords wanted you to stop the Daleks.”
“Before the Daleks got off the ground. Into space. There was a war. Both sides were losing. They’d reached the end. Last gasp. I infiltrated the bunker and met this mad scientist. He wanted to take the shattered remnants of the race and put them inside portable life-support units.”
“Daleks.”
“A subversion of his race. Even down to the name. Kaleds became Daleks.”
“You didn’t stop them, obviously.”
“Slowed them down. Made them less aggressive. A bunch of scientists stood by to engineer a lot of the emotional conflict out of the Daleks. Those scientists were bumped off before the Daleks could be made even more efficient and ruthless.”
“You win some, you lose some.”
“Yeah. At the back of my mind was the notion that I’d already met the Daleks when I was younger. In the planet’s future. And if I meddled too much, I’d skew space-time and my own life. It was very deep, complex, stuff.”
“Your older self popped up at the start of Dalek development, and your younger self popped in at the middle. Crazy out-of-sequence time travel nonsense.”
“Now my even older self is here, well before the start of anything remotely Dalek-like.”
“You have something in mind.”
“A bit of gardening.”
Rose stood and clinked two plastic bottles together in her left hand. There was no actual clink, just a boing. She took a deep breath and grabbed an apple from the hamper. Gardening, in the wilderness, on a day like this. When you could take it easy.
“Going somewhere?”
“Down by the river. Don’t worry, I won’t drink the water. I have my own supply. Did you remember to bring that spare mobile phone I picked up for you last time we were on Earth?”
“Yes, gran.”
“And did you monkey around with the insides, to make it work the way mine does?”
“Yes. We can stay in touch by Intergalactic Mobile Phone. No matter where, or when, we are.”
“Don’t sound so upset. Just because I decided to be a bit more organised about communications. I am your assistant. So I assisted, for once. Be cheerful.”
“I’m not upset. We’re going to have a nice day off even if I have to rant and rave.”
“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?”
“If we were aliens who enjoyed a bit of a rant, no.”
“Aliens. We’re both aliens here. I keep forgetting stuff like that.”
“You humans, tsk.”
“Hark at you. One to talk.”
“So what’s the plan, Rose?”
“My plan is to go exploring, dressed as an explorer, disappear from sight, and work on my all-over tan. While you’re off gardening.”
“Blimey.”
“The planet is uninhabited. So I can be uninhibited.”
“Well, uninhabited is a loose term. There are plants and animals. But you won’t be caught short by a news crew, never mind a Dalek.”
“Good. Here’s the news. I’m off for a bath in that river. I’ll be out of sight and out of mind. Use the phone if there’s an emergency. I’ll leave my clothes out of sight around those trees. And I’ll be further along, out of sight of my clothes. If you have to come running, and you find my clothes…”
“I’ll just shout, and wait there by your clothes until you turn up.”
“Yeah. If you want a broken jaw.”
“I’m a Time Lord. We laugh at broken jaws.”
“And sneer at chips served in cartons. What was your plan?”
“To do a bit of Dalek-related gardening. I’ll have to nip back to the TARDIS to get that started. Do you want the machete?”
“No. Two bottles of water, an apple, a mobile phone, and this handy towel. All the equipment I’ll need. See you.”
“Yeah. Don’t bake yourself. Wondered what that towel was in the hamper for.”
“Towelling.”
*
The Doctor gave Rose a minute, then stood up. She looked back, waved, and fell over into the long grass. He burst out laughing. This was great. In the far-flung future he’d be underneath this grassy slope with his friends Sarah and Harry, witnessing the birth of the first Daleks. And, further along in time, he’d be wandering the sterile halls of a Dalek city, with two schoolteachers. Not forgetting a curious girl named Susan. They were his crew. Changed days.
He decided not to dwell on the past. Especially as it lay in this planet’s future. Rose staggered to her feet. She must have been rooting around for the apple. He waved again. Rose put her hands to her hips in a gesture of indignation. He had to say something.
“I’m not laughing!”
“Pith!”
“See you.”
The traveller in Time and Space capitalised some of his thoughts, grabbed a handful of strawberries, and returned to the jungle. Skaro, with non-petrified trees. Wow. The canopy of leaves cut him off from the rest of the world. He followed an easy trail back to his beloved time machine.
Occasionally, there was the oddest hum from the blue box. It wasn’t a blue box at all. In reality, the TARDIS was a white or off-white creamy cabinet. Depending on the make and model. This was a Type Forty. (Mark III, if you went by Roman numerals.) Hard as nails. Had to be, with the amount of miles the Doctor had run up on the clock, after stealing her and gallivanting across the galaxies.
Stealing. Harsh word. He had borrowed the TARDIS from his own stuffy people. The Time Lords. Gallifreyans. A dusty race, consigned to time. No spark or sense of adventure in the blood. Come on, Doctor. Not true. There had been exceptions.
You are one.
“I’m one.”
No one was close enough to hear him say so. He looked at the exterior of his time machine. She, and she was a she, appeared to be a large blue box. To those living in a certain time, from a certain part of a certain planet, the TARDIS resembled a Police Box.
POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX.
The Time Lord smiled. A few of his companions had run inside the Police Box to make genuine calls for help. And he’d helped. Though he was no policeman. And the shock they always had, on realising that the tiny room they expected to find inside was…bigger on the inside than on the outside…ha! He loved the look on their faces. You never grow tired of certain things.
“Hi, honey. I’m ho-ome! Only me! No burglars. Who would dare. Right. Best get this Dalek project off the ground. Or into the ground. Where did I put that wheelbarrow? What am I thinking! I’ll need my sonic screwdriver.”
He fished an electric toothbrush from his pocket, checked the power, and slipped the device back into his pocket. This was his sonic screwdriver. It resembled an electric toothbrush, minus the bristles. A universal lockpick and handy electronic gadget, the screwdriver could be set to clean teeth sonically.
“Wearing the right gear for gardening, but I’m still not dressed properly. I should have explained that to Rose before she went sunbathing. Right. What order should I do this in? I could do this back to front. Wouldn’t phase a Time Lord, would it. I wonder if talking to yourself is a sign of madness? Good job I’m talking to you, old girl.”
The time machine was alive, in a sense.
“Every Time Lord needs his trusty TARDIS. And his trusty sonic screwdriver. His trusty assistant is having a day off. She should have gone to a tanning salon on Earth. Fake tan to go with her bottled blonde hairdo. Don’t tell her I said that, old thing. Wouldn’t want the crew to mutiny.”
He stood on the flight deck, by the control console, glaring up at the central control column. His mind reeled with the thought of the number of times he’d done that. While he was in the main chamber, he decided to run a check on spare parts.
“Where did I put that thingummy? Strawberry, old girl? Thought not. You’re missing a treat, you know. Grown on Earth. Fabulous place. Much better than dusty old Skaro. Not that the planet’s gone to seed yet. It will. Ah. Seed. Reminds me. Where did I put that thingummy?”
*
Rose was blushing. Well, they should build those slopes without pointless inbuilt hidden holes. She almost twisted an ankle. Only two people on the planet, and they were both hunting around for things. Rose found the apple, gathered her gear at her feet, stood, heard the Doctor laughing, and put her hands to her hips. Not funny, Doctor.
“I’m not laughing!”
“Pith!”
“See you.”
The young blonde (-ish) woman lifted her equipment and rolled it into the towel. She soon found herself bounding down the gentle slope, for fun. Before long she disappeared around the corner to her right, into a screen of trees thick enough to hide her from the Doctor’s view. Not that he was there. She whipped her head back around the last tree, to see if he had inadvertently strayed into view. No sign of the gardener. Gardening? What sort of gardening?
Rose bounded along, and dumped everything in a neat pile. She decided to wrap herself in the towel, and popped the apple and her cosmic mobile into her pith helmet. Uninhabited. No Daleks, anyway. What were they like, at this stage of evolution? Mammals? Bugs in the trees, maybe?
She found it hard to wrap her head around the idea of baby Daleks. Stick to the plan, Rose. She wandered on, leaving her clothes and her cares behind. When she reached a bend in the river, she glanced back. A pile of clothes, and the glint of bottled water. Check.
The next stretch of river was wider. She stumbled over a miniature beach of pale pink pebbles shelving shallowly toward the clearest water she’d ever seen. This was the perfect space for a bath, maybe even a proper swim. And a quick spot of sunbathing. She smiled as she just couldn’t help but peek around to see if any Daleks were watching.
There was a chirruping sound as the alien version of a squirrel jumped from one lemon-leaved tree to another. The towel fell away. Rose’s chirruping companion stopped and gazed at her with huge wet eyes. A postcard moment. For which party? The alien squirrel, or the naked human? She set the pith helmet on a rock, as if the rock were a human head, so that the alien squirrel couldn’t grab the apple or the phone and make off with a glittering prize.
“Enjoy the view while it lasts, mate.”
She heard a mild chirrup response.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not vain. Wasn’t talking about me. I meant the landscape. Skaro. Enjoy the view while it lasts, mate. Before your pals in another part of the food-chain evolve into everyone’s nightmare. Talking pepper-pots.”
She waded into the cool water. The river was deep enough to let her sink up to her neckline. She did. The relief from the heat was excellent. Rose waded a little deeper, and her face fell under the dappled shade of a tree. Or tree-like plant, at any rate. Paradise .
Here she was, naked as Eve, with an apple close by. And no snake to tempt her. No. This planet faced a destiny far worse than that. What was the Doctor going to do about the Daleks? If he’d made sure they were tamer – blimey – and then given them a kicking, what next? As the Doctor had done in the TARDIS, Rose found herself talking to…not herself. The squirrel. It was startled by the sound of her voice. But the alien squirrel didn’t run too far away.
“I’ve been thinking about time. According to the Doctor, as a younger man he was on Skaro. Giving the Daleks a kicking. And, as he grew older, he visited the planet again. Further back in the planet’s past. So…the older Doctor made it easier for the younger Doctor to give the Daleks a kicking by making sure the first Daleks were slowed down. Made sluggish. Inefficient.”
A chirrup came in answer.
“Yeah. I know I’m not talking to myself. All this time travel, though. Makes me wonder. Am I talking to a creature that will one day evolve into a Dalek?”
Another chirrup, and the alien was gone.
Rose drifted, thinking worried thoughts about intergalactic alligators as a log drifted with her. She felt her toes leaving the riverbed. In for a penny, in for a pound. What a stupid saying. Go in for a penny. Then you’ve only risked a penny. If you go in for a quid, and lose a quid, you’ve lost a hundred pennies. In the end though, you have only lost a pound. Not a fortune.
She swam to the log. The double-slap of her hands on the bark-like surface sent a bright red-and-gold amphibious thing skidding out of the log, across the surface of the gently-flowing river. Half-mammal, half-reptile, part air-breathing, part water-breathing, the creature would spend the next hundred thousand years discarding all of its visible reptilian traits. That would just be for starters. Rose Tyler, Intergalactic Woman of Mystery, had just encountered an unnamed creature whose descendants would one day evolve into Daleks.
She burst out laughing at the fright she’d given herself. After a brisk swim she retreated to the bank, let the breeze dry her, set the towel out, and lay down in a sunny spot to work on her tan. In the blink of an eye, she fell fast asleep. As safe as anyone would ever be on the wicked planet of Skaro.
*
The Doctor kept one eye on the time. How cool the TARDIS could be. Humming away. Ticking over. He nipped out of the main chamber and stood in the doorway. The jungle was warming up. And out there, on an exposed river…
He reached for the spare Intergalactic Mobile Phone, and dialled ROSE. Had she fallen fast asleep? Probably. Where would they go next? Earth, for chips, of course. He could plan that flight to arrive half an hour before they’d left. In another location, of course. Not the same street.
Then there’d be time for chips, in a carton. He’d never really have time for chips, in a carton. He and Rose could walk in on Rose’s mum Jackie just after they’d left her. Watch her jaw drop. Show off Rose’s instant tan. From Jackie’s viewpoint, anyway.
Rose heard the beep in her dreams and woke. There were always beeps in her life. Aboard the TARDIS. On alien worlds. There were plenty of beeps at home. Television. Microwave. Washing machine. She lifted the pith helmet, and answered the apple. Then her eyesight cleared.
“Hello? Oh, bollocks.”
The Doctor thought about the NEXT next trip, after seeing Rose’s inspiring mother. Somewhere far away. Forward in time. A spot of mild adventure. Yeah. Mild adventure. This is a picnic. Next, chips. After that, a spot of mild adventure to ease back into the business. Then? Saving planets, of course.
“Hello. Rose?”
“Yeah. I was asleep. Where are you?”
“On the train. Or possibly in the supermarket.”
“Did you go back to the TARDIS and nip out to the shops while I went for a swim?”
“No. I’m just engaging in Intergalactic Banter. In a lush jungle. Another part of the forest. Possibly the elbow. If forests have elbows.”
“Intergalactic Banter. Waffle, you mean.”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that? I tell you, it’s a dull day in the universe if I haven’t reversed the polarity of the neutron flow before breakfast.”
“When you have breakfast.”
“Occupational hazard of being a Time Lord. You never know when it’s time to eat. And you thought jet-lag was bad.”
“Why are you calling?”
“In the heat from those suns, you should be half-done by now.”
“Yeah. I’ll turn over and do the other side.”
“Which side would that be?”
“The OTHER side.”
“Right. Anything happening over there?”
“I met a squirrel. And a lizardy thing in the water. It’s great out here.”
“Do you have the strange feeling that you’re being watched?”
“Yes.”
“That’ll be Sir David Attenborough, filming you for a very unusual wildlife programme. Quite possibly, an award-winning one.”
“Ha ha.”
“The girl thinks I’m joking. He’s been in the TARDIS loads of times.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. What’s happening over there?”
“I’ve set up my Dalek project. Feeling all nostalgic now. I’ll come down to the river and leave you an umbrella. Then do that spot of gardening. If we’re going to have chips later, you really should dress for dinner you know.”
“Are you dressing up?”
“Jeans and a shirt.”
“I’m not wearing those moon boots again.”
“You might have to, on a cold moon. Dressing up isn’t all moon boots and dinner suits. Wear what you want. As long as you don’t take the pith. What are you laughing at? My pun wasn’t that funny.”
“No. My own little adventure. I kept that apple under the pith helmet, next to my mobile phone. In case any squirrels made a grab for the phone. When the phone went, I answered the apple.”
“Ah, but what was the apple’s question?”
“I was asleep at the time. We’ll never know.”
“You have your Intergalactic Mobile Phone. I have my Intergalactic Mobile Phone. Stay in touch.”
“Don’t cut yourself on that machete.”
“Okay. Don’t forget how nice today is.”
“I won’t.”
“Truly, Rose. I’ve been on Skaro several times. On each occasion, I can tell you, it was no picnic.”
“Hang up, before the anti-pun stun gun built into your phone knocks you out.”
“No one mentioned that when I signed the contract.”
“Occupational hazard of being a Time Lord. Your sense of humour.”
“My GREAT sense of humour, Rose.”
“See you.”
Rose rolled over and toasted the OTHER side. While she was waiting, she exterminated the apple.
*
Another beep. She woke again. No time had passed. The phone was going. Where was she? On a towel. Sunbathing. By a river. The air had a different smell to it. There were creatures in strange trees. Or, almost-trees. Rose was still dreaming. Squirrels didn’t have eyes that size. The light was an odd colour. She sat up and answered the phone.
“Hello. The Doctor isn’t here right now. This is his assistant, Rose Tyler. Can I help you?”
“I don’t think you can. You see, I am the Doctor. I was hoping to have a word with him.”
“Well, I can take a message.”
“Could you remind him to remind his assistant that she is no longer half-baked, and that if she wants to avoid awkward questions back on Earth, she’d best get dressed as soon as poss.”
“Do we have to leave in a hurry?”
“No. It’s just going to be odd explaining away the alien skin cancer you’ll pick up if you spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening sunbathing on Skaro. Your hospital results will be rather odd.”
“Blimey, have I overdone it?”
“How would I know? I’m not there. How’s the tan?”
“Brilliant. I mean. Amazing. I suppose I am just shy of sunburn.”
“Don’t forget that umbrella. It’s a radiation shield.”
“What about you?”
“I stayed out of the worst of it, at high double noon. And I’m not human.”
“For an alien who isn’t human, you act like a human.”
“You say the sweetest things. I might have to start paying you money for all these odd jobs you end up doing at my request.”
“Alien money, or Earth money?”
“Clever girl. Perhaps too clever.”
“See you in a bit.”
“I’ll meet you on the grassy plain.”
*
Rose collected everything, starting at the river. She added some pink pebbles to the towel. Souvenirs of a nicer, friendlier, Skaro. When she reached her clothes, she found a massive umbrella had been planted in the ground, spike down, next to her neat pile. A tag was attached to the handle.
“Brolly.”
She traced her fingers over the Doctor’s handwriting. He had written in English. There you go again, girl. Analysing those tiny details. Rose dressed, and made sure that she hadn’t left a single item. This included the core of her exterminated apple. She wasn’t sure about leaving that behind, to turn into a forest, thus infecting Skaro with Earth plants.
Would that matter, in the final reckoning? The Doctor had described the place as blasted. A dead world. Ruin-strewn. She said the phrase to herself over and over. Ruin-strewn. Rose didn’t want to be blamed for cosmic littering.
There were probably severe penalties.
Dressed, she unfolded the wide umbrella. There were vanes, but no panes in them. Vanes without panes. Ruin-strewn. Vanes without panes. Then she saw the switches. Click. A thin gelid sheen spread between the vanes, forming flexible frosted panes. She felt the cold fall down from the machine, soothing her. Double-check. Triple-check. She had gathered everything in. Time to meet the Doctor.
They wandered casually into one another, as though bumping into an old friend on the planet Skaro happened to be the most natural thing in the world. In this case, the world wasn’t Earth. One more tiny thing for Rose to think about. Earth phrases, used away from Earth.
“Hey, you.”
“Hello stranger. Thanks for the brolly.”
“I’m no stranger. Call me the Doctor.”
“About this brolly…”
“Amazing, isn’t it. Keeps you cool underneath. And shields you from the radiation. It’s such a wide brolly – just to be sure of shielding your feet as well.”
“I feel like I’ve had an ice lolly. Under this brolly. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
“Great tan, by the way.”
“I see your hands caught a bit of it, too. And your face. Not bad. But not all over.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Why, Doctor.”
“Keep ’em guessing, I say.”
“Ask no secrets, tell no lies.”
“What happens on Skaro stays on Skaro. For now, at any rate.”
“Finished gardening?”
“I have.”
“Will it change Skar…Skaroan history?”
“No, Rose.”
“Then why bother?”
“For the fun of it.”
“Is that a wheelbarrow?”
“Told you. I was gardening.”
“What did you do?”
“Planted seeds.”
“That’s crap.”
“Eh? But you haven’t heard the BEST bit yet.”
“I brought this apple back, to prevent pollution. Or littering.”
“Gimme that.”
“Oi!”
“Here. Chuck it. The whole planet’s going to blazes anyway. Good luck to the apples, I say.”
“Suppose these people…”
“Kaleds.”
“Well, what if they discover apples, develop a taste for them, and remain peaceful as a result?”
“Nice thought. Won’t happen, though. They do eat plants, but they start off as these carnivorous…”
“Stop that conversation. I don’t want to know. They aren’t evolved from squirrels, are they?”
“No. Pity that’s not the way of it. Instead of exterminating everything, they’d probably spend their time hoarding nuts for the winter.”
“What have you done?”
“Says on my shirt.”
“Your green shirt?”
“Oh. I’ve set it to green on green. This is an electrical shirt. Picked it up…somewhere. Doesn’t matter where, really. I can alter the colour with my trusty Sonic Screwdriver™.”
“Did you have to say ™ at the end?”
“Absolutely!”
“Show me.”
“Here.”
With a wave of his trusty bristle-free electric toothbrush lookalike, the Doctor changed a series of letters from green to black. Rose read the letters, written in the English language, and reminded herself of that all-important point. The one the Doctor’s waffle had cut through.
“DEATH TO THE DALEKS. Right. I have some important questions.”
“Important questions. Who would win a fight between the Daleks and the Zutons?”
“The Zutons. A five-piece band from Liverpool .”
“Are they? No. I fought them. Invasion of the Zutons. I was there. Wasn’t I? Am I thinking of the Rutans? Or the Zygons? You cross a Zygon with a Rutan and you get a Zuton. I’m sure of it. No, tell a lie. I fought the Romulans.”
“Off the telly?”
“Romulans?”
“They’re off the telly.”
“Earth telly?”
“Yeah. Earth telly. Gene Roddenberry? Said he’d boldly go. Seek out new life, new civilisations. Ring any bells?”
“Gene? Haven’t bumped into him in centuries. He was a pilot last time I saw him. Said he was going to jack it all in and join the LAPD. Gene Roddenberry. Romulans. Blimey. That would be expensive to film. Are the telly Romulans fifty foot tall armoured robots, on tracks? Big whirring robot brains and spiky sensor arrays?”
“No.”
“Neither are the real Romulans. Be good if they were, though. Come on.”
“You met Gene Roddenberry. What a terrible namedropper you are, Doctor.”
“That’s what Einstein said to me. Don’t roll your eyes.”
“If only this ice lolly brolly could shield me from your awful puns and terrible wordplay.”
“What awful puns? That ice brolly? What wordplay?”
“I had a question.”
“The Daleks. That’s your answer.”
“Not to my question.”
“No! To mine! Who would win in a fight between the Daleks and the Zutons? The Daleks. Unless the Daleks were pissed. Had been out on the pull. Drank too much beer. Couldn’t function properly.”
“Stepping inside the TARDIS scrambled my brain.”
“No more than usual. Might have improved your basic brain power.”
“And wherever we go, I can understand people. Aliens. Things.”
“I could explain it to you in detail, Rose. But it’s technical, and boring. All I ever cared was…that it worked a treat. Saved having to send my assistant on a load of language courses. I mean, where on Earth would you learn Romulan anyway?”
“Probably the same place I could learn Klingon.”
“What’s that?”
“Never mind. This tag on the brolly is in English. DEATH TO THE DALEKS on your electrical clothing. That’s in English. When we speak to French people, I know they are speaking French. Even though I understand what they are saying, in my mind. But you…”
“What?”
“Don’t look sheepish.”
“I’m not sheepish. Am I? Do I look it?”
“Right now you do. When you speak to me…”
“Er…”
“You speak in English.”
“No I don’t.”
“Occasionally, when you are excited…usually tripping over yourself to explain the odd technical term…you slip into Gallifreyan. I can still understand you. The TARDIS scrambled my brains. But, for the most part, you speak English.”
“That’s utter nonsense.”
“Say that again in Gallifreyan.”
“That’s utter nonsense!
“Hah!”
“Look, what’s the big deal?”
“You took the time to learn the language.”
“No I didn’t. Yes, I did. Okay. I’ve spent a lot of time in the English-speaking world. You pick these things up over the years.”
“Know what I think. I think you have a bit of a crush on old Planet Earth™.”
“Did you have to add ™ to the end of that?”
“Yeah. I did. Earth’s your home. Your base.”
“No. Holiday home, maybe. Home from home. Possibly.”
“You, Doctor, are blushing.”
“Gosh it’s hot out here.”
“Aren’t Gallifreyans more tolerant of radiation?”
“Depends on the radiation.”
“Want to share my umbrella?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Just as soon as this extremely localised physical effect wears off. Must be allergic to strawberries. No, it’s my Time Lord physiology kicking in. Bonus of being able to Regenerate my body. Must be.”
“You have a funny way of saying Regenerate. Yeah. You always say Regenerate in Gallifreyan.”
“Nonsense. Come on. We’re missing the fun.”
“I’m not missing any of it. DEATH TO THE DALEKS…”
“Gardening. I’ve planted some seeds over there. They’ll grow into those letters. Utterly pointless. But a small blow for freedom.”
“Where the bunker will be?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s as cool as this umbrella.”
“Thanks. So, how was your day on Skaro?”
“Brilliant. Twice as brilliant, knowing that the Daleks can’t take the fun out of everything.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Now what?”
“We could watch the suns, setting. Then dematerialise the TARDIS, allow the plants to grow, and rematerialise overhead in low orbit. A flip of the scanner switch, and all is revealed. What do you say to that, eh?”
“I’d say we could follow it up with chips. In an era before they stop wrapping chips in newspaper.”
“You’re thinking like a time traveller.”
“When I’m with you, I am a time traveller. Which reminds me, I meant to ask.”
“You aren’t going to embarrass me again?”
“Probably. Do you have a Doctorate in time travel?”
“I do, actually. Not a very good one. I wanted…”
“Yeah?”
“To get out and see the universe. So I picked up the basics on the technical side…”
“You weren’t the most technically proficient Time Lord who ever sailed the spaceways?”
“I ended up being the one who had the most fun. And that is much cooler than your umbrella.”
“Right. Let’s go. I need to visit the bathroom.”
“I thought that river was your bathroom.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t my toilet.”
“Missed your chance to piss on the Daleks, then.”
“I can live with that. Wouldn’t want the actions of the past to haunt me in the future.”
“No. There’s been too much of that in the space-time continuum already. Let’s go back to the TARDIS, and freshen up.”
*
More questions flitted through Rose’s mind as she popped into the TARDIS. She skipped out of the cavernous main chamber and wandered down the hallways. The Doctor had given her a miniature tour. He’d offered her a room to kip in. And he’d said kip, meaning sleep, instead of the Gallifreyan word.
The bathroom was down the hall. Almost everything she’d seen appeared to be decorated in the same style. A hint of Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s achievements, mixed with a dash of Dickens’s ghostly tales, not quite lost inside the heavy dollop of Gallifreyan design. (She grinned at the memory of the time she’d bumped into Charles Dickens.)
Rose liked the look. The TARDIS appeared to be a pumping station which shifted time instead of water. Industrial Revolution chic. It was everything you might expect of a time machine. If time machines were real. (She grinned again.)
When she hit the bathroom, she wondered where the water came from. And where it went. Again, she started to dip into the tiniest aspects of time travel. Not the idea of being somewhere before you were born. (Or, she gulped, visiting a location long after you’d died. After your whole species had died.)
No. She wondered about the physical requirements of a guest, and the modifications built to deal with such problems. In short, she was an alien. And this was an alien loo. A very nice alien loo. With a great bath. And a temperamental shower. She’d stocked the room with loo-roll. The Doctor had been running low. There were plenty of towels, though. More tiny mysteries.
As a time traveller, Rose tended to get by on snacks. She was a great believer in snacks. The Doctor always seemed to be stopping off for chips. Both time travellers incinerated the excess energy when they were on…missions? On missions. She supposed they were. Mercy missions, most of them.
You’ll never get fat eating loads of chips if you spend all your time running from Daleks. High satiety meets high anxiety. All weight-gain problems solved. She stood looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. Was that part of the TARDIS?
Rose suspected not. The Doctor probably picked the mirror up on an alien world. All worlds were alien to him. He mentioned Gallifrey. But he didn’t like talking about it. Probably hid too many secrets from his incredible past. That, or he was so old now that he’d forgotten most of it. The Doctor started talking to her through the bathroom door.
“How’s the tan? Not that you’re vain, or anything. As you’ve clearly mentioned several times. Looking in the mirror.”
“Officially, now that I’ve seen myself in the bathroom mirror, it’s an amazing tan.”
“Baked to a very nice shade, I thought. Shame you have to spoil it all when you pop back home.”
“In what way?”
“You leave one day, return the next. And you have this great tan in the middle of winter. They’ll all think it’s come out of a bottle.”
“I don’t care what they think. We had a picnic. You mocked the Daleks. No one had to die.”
“That’s a superb non-adventure in my book.”
“Doctor?”
“Yes Rose?”
“I lifted some pebbles from the river. Do you think they’re dangerous?”
“As long as they aren’t dinosaur eggs. There’s a fifty quid fine.”
“What’s that in the Gallifreyan language?”
“Lucky for you I can speak English.”
“I can almost hear your lopsided grin through the door.”
“Catch you later. I want to run some more maintenance checks on the old girl before we watch those suns setting. Then the fun begins.”
“I hope you didn’t spell the words wrongly.”
“DEAF TO THE DALEKS, you mean.”
“That would do just as well. We’re deaf to them. They might say that they’re going to exterminate us, but we are deaf to their nonsense.”
*
Rose nipped along from the bathroom to her semi-official bedroom. She stored changes of clothes there. And kept perishable snacks in a fridge. The humming noise from the fridge wasn’t as loud as the sound coming from the TARDIS. She tuned the humming out when she wanted to sleep.
There was supposed to be a food-making machine tucked away somewhere. Not a microwave. There was a microwave. The thought of the food-making machine took her back to the bathroom problem. And the business of air. The Doctor could breathe air. He was always running quick checks – glances at the controls – before opening the doors to the next alien world.
How did he cope with extremely alien guests? Did the food-making machine cater to all tastes? Could the Doctor set different atmospheric conditions in certain rooms? And, bluntly, were there other, far more alien, toilets aboard the ship?
He certainly had plenty of unusual stores. Clothes for all occasions. She’d found a few charred spacesuits discarded in one cupboard. The Doctor and his then-companions had obviously left somewhere in bit of a hurry. Standard procedure, as far as the Doctor went.
Rose stood in her bedroom doorway and listened to the TARDIS, humming away. Occasionally the humming would stop altogether, and she’d grow worried. Some vile thing would zap the TARDIS. Nastiness usually ensued. The tanned blonde (enough of that –ish nonsense) changed into dark blue jeans and a white woollen sweater. Sunset…suns-set…would be chilly.
According to the forecast.
Instead of turning toward the main room, she turned away. Forgetting where she was for a moment, she ventured into a hallway that looked like the others. At the far end was a hallway which didn’t quite look like the others. Right at the very end, the design merged with another one. Stark, white. Not at all industrial. Unless the industry happened to be a plastic one.
Rather than turn back and waffle even more nonsense to the Doctor, Rose walked to the very end of the hall. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. All changed into ultra-faint hexagonal blocky designs in white plastic-looking material, with circles inside the subtle hexagons.
She turned a corner in the white hallway, and wondered if Alice
There was a stairwell around the corner. And a lift, with more of those portholes set into the double doors. Light flickered within. The lift was on this floor. Funny, to think of the TARDIS having loads of floors. The Doctor had mentioned the lower floors and all that space taken up by the time engines. But she hadn’t thought to visit those floors.
Perhaps her explorer’s outfit had given her a new perspective on life. Rose was an explorer. Not only in time and space, but also in Time and Space™. She walked toward the stairwell. To her left, the stairs rose toward the DEFAULT CONTROL ROOM. A sign said so. In Gallifreyan. Which, apparently, she could read without too much difficulty. Her pronunciation was right off, though.
To her right, the stairs descended toward an AUXILIARY CONTROL ROOM. Stairs rose, and stairs descended. Rose by name, she chose the upper level. What was the lift like, though? A trip in the lift. Click, and the doors opened. She stepped in. An obvious UP button gave her the clue. Another click. The doors closed, and she braced herself for…a very ordinary journey in a lift.
When she emerged, she decided the best course of action was to retrace her steps. The familiar hum was still present. No problems aboard the TARDIS. Turning the corner, she found herself in a familiar white-tiled corridor. The layout was the same. Only the design was different.
“Let’s see. Where am I, old girl? You don’t mind being called old girl, do you? If you do, you should let the Doctor know. He can be a bit…well, you don’t need me to tell you that. My room would be just along from the bathroom. This would be the bathroom…”
She placed herself between bathroom and…someone’s bedroom. From there she got her bearings. The control room would be through…there. What was it like? Tiled in the same faint hexagonal pattern, containing circles within each hexagon? She stepped through. The sight amazed her.
Rose was standing in a white room, patterned in circular portholes. The humming sound had grown louder. There were no industrial mesh deck plates on the floor here. This floor was solid. The Doctor should be beneath her. An obvious hexagonal control console in an off-white creamy colour dominated the room. At its centre, was the control column. And tinkering with the control column, was the Doctor.
“Doctor. What are you doing here?”
“Um? I’m just making sure our itinerary is perfect. Rose? You seem a little…”
“Puzzled?”
“Yeah, well, that too. I was going to say that you seem to be a little out of phase with the rest of the space-time continuum.”
“Am I? Do you think it was something I ate?”
“Or somewhere you went. Hang on. I know this. It’s…in a manual somewhere. Don’t think I’ve ever experienced this personally. You’ve reversed the pol. No. that’s not it. Surprise me.”
“I just wandered in here to see how different things were.”
“Different.”
“After spending so much time in the other control room.”
“Ah! You’re in the OTHER control room! Which one? Wood, or…”
“White circles.”
“The default setting.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m in the control room…you’d say it’s downstairs. But that’s not a relevant term. You left the control room and wandered into the other control room. Which is still the control room. I haven’t used that one in ages. After the first eight hundred years, the glare goes for your eyes. They are linked. We’re in different locations at the same time. As long as you can see white circles, you’ll stay stuck in that version of the control room.”
“And if I leave to visit the bathroom down the hall?”
“White tiles, right?”
“Suppose I leave the TARDIS?”
“Then you’ll be on Skaro.”
“And if I step back into the TARDIS?”
“You won’t see white tiles.”
“I’ll be with you again. In the regular control room.”
“That’s right. We’ll be together again.”
“You are with me now, Doctor.”
“Yes. But you can see different surroundings.”
“Care to explain?”
“I’d love to. There are…other versions of the control room. The main one is linked directly to the outer doors in a simple two-way system. And that main one is…whichever one I decide. I can change the setting around if I want to. The white one is the default setting. Comes as standard with the TARDIS when you…collect her from the garage. In a manner of speaking, that is. After several centuries of wear and tear, I redecorated. Hit a switch, and moved…”
“You moved the wallpaper around. Like computer wallpaper. On the desktop. You just changed the main theme. And you can still access the other wallpaper images.”
“That’s brilliant. Yes. Though the advanced bit is more of an exclusive TARDIS thing. Not any mere sloppy graphic feature on one of those slow pokey old Earth computers.”
“You don’t say.”
“I can visit the other versions of the control room by moving deeper inside the TARDIS. From the other control rooms, I can still activate the TARDIS. I can even step outside from those other rooms. But they are one-way. You can leave the TARDIS, but the main room is the one you always return to when stepping across the TARDIS threshold. With me so far?”
“They all allow you work the controls. And the doors, too. But when you are outside, looking in, the main room is the main room is the main room.”
“There is a side-effect, which you’ve just discovered. As the control room always gives access to the controls, no matter how it appears, two occupants of a TARDIS, in different versions of the room, can meet in the same-yet-different place.”
“You do look a bit blurry, now that I think about it. So…we could hold hands and step out through the doors, and we’d be together.”
“Sure.”
“And when we walk back in.”
“We’ll both see the same control room in front of our eyes.”
“The Isambard Kingdom Brunel version.”
“Very good. Izzy would love that. Yeah.”
“Izzy. This from the man who calls Einstein Al.”
“When I call him, I can call him Al.”
“Which are you? The bodyguard, or the long-lost pal?”
“Paul Simon told me it didn’t really matter. You can’t call me Betty, though.”
“Hold my hand, Doctor. We’re going out through that door.”
“There. See. Easy.”
“Yeah. Skaro. Jungle. And in we go again…”
“To the industrial look you like so much.”
“That other one was a bit glaring, I thought. It’s upstairs?”
“Not really upstairs. But yes, it’s upstairs.”
“And there’s a wooden version.”
“I used it for a short while. Caused problems, though.”
“How, if they are all the same?”
“Well. They are the same, but different. The wooden version was prone to flooding. Minor glitch in the pool next door. Flooded the wooden control room and warped the panels. Listen, I have to whisper this – I suspect that’s a design-flaw built into the old girl. Keep that to yourself. Not every TARDIS has a swimming pool. I grew bored, didn’t think wood panels were quite my thing, and switched back to the default setting. Then, eventually, I remembered this industrial look. So I tied that look to the main doors, and here we are. Let’s jump ahead to sunset. Suns-set.”
“I had trouble thinking about that word earlier.”
*
The double sunset on Skaro was magnificent.
“Eh? What did you make of that? Eh? Fantastic.”
“Planet’s starting to cool. We should get back to our strange lives.”
“Yeah. I could murder a bag of chips. Here, I’ll light the way with my screwdriver.”
“Whenever you say that, I have visions of a screwdriver with a bulb on the end.”
“And a cord-pull, to click on and off.”
The two humanoid figures crossed the dark plain of grass. They were swallowed up by a darker patch of jungle. Crushed and broken plants still gave off a different scent, despite the passage of time. The Doctor and his trusty companion could almost smell their way back to the TARDIS.
“Do you have an alien bathroom aboard?”
“Other than the alien bathroom you use, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“I can set that sort of stuff up.”
“There’s nothing evil in that, is there?”
“What would be evil in that?”
“Oh, say, an alien materialises out of nowhere, steps out of the TARDIS, stuns some American in the middle of nowhere.”
“That sounds painful.”
“And carts him inside for experimentation.”
“I would never do that. Why does the human have to be an American in the middle of nowhere?”
“Flying saucers. They are always kidnapping Americans from the middle of nowhere.”
“The TARDIS isn’t a flying saucer.”
“If you fixed the circuitry, you could make the TARDIS look like anything.”
“Yes. If I could.”
“So here’s my question.”
“Fire away.”
“You don’t kidnap aliens for experimentation. Instead, you invite aliens to travel with you. Why adapt the inside of the TARDIS to cater to my alien needs? The TARDIS can go anywhere, and look like anything. Surely, the occupant is an observer. And doesn’t have to take passengers aboard.”
“Yeah. But, on the off-chance that you might have to rescue someone…or something…”
“And you took advantage of that planning?”
“Too right. I love company. Today, you got to see the nice side of Skaro.”
“Would I want to see the blasted ruinous version?”
“I could show you that. But I’d prefer not to.”
“Been giving some thought to time travel. The way you speak English. And visit Earth a lot. Invite humans – okay, aliens – to travel with you. Where is that food-making machine, by the way?”
“Around. But we’re stopping off for chips. Be quicker to dematerialise the TARDIS, rematerialise close to a chip shop, proffer some coinage, and snaffle a bag down. We could spend longer than twenty minutes rummaging around for a food-making machine. You don’t mean the microwave oven?”
“No. Have you misplaced the microwave as well?”
“Might have cannibalised it for spares.”
“Doctor. You might have?”
“I’m glad you’re so understanding. Ah, here we are. Home. Now remember, not a word about that interdimensional leak from the pool. She’s sensitive about such things.”
“Does the pool still work?”
“Oh yeah.”
“I might take a dip.”
“Right. I’ll have to shift the mini-sub. We’ll hunt out some striped Victorian bathing costumes.”
“You’ll need a twirly moustache and an exaggerated pose.”
“The Victorian Bodybuilder look. Yes. I can personally avow, Ladies and Gentlemen, that, after feasting on the Doctor’s secret dietary formula for a month, my striped costume has grown twice as many stripes. A fact which my assistant will now verify.”
“Wot? ’Ere, d’you mean I should count ’em?”
“Then the crowd laughs, and we pile up steady sales.”
“Of The Doctor’s Patented Secret Dietary Formula. Or Prune-Juice, as it’s known in the trade.”
Laughing, the two explorers disappeared inside the large blue box. They stood in a far larger room, and kept laughing as the Doctor confirmed control settings for several trips in series, ending at the nearest decent chip shop. On Skaro, the air cooled. Night creatures emerged. Prototype Daleks were hunted and eaten by scarier things which would all, in turn, be exterminated countless ages later.
A light flashed atop the big blue box. As the light flashed, the TARDIS wheezed and groaned. The box started to fade. Night creatures scattered. The wheezing sound diminished, taking the box with it. There was a square patch where the machine once stood. And a swath cut through the jungle. As well as some litter, in the form of a discarded apple core.
Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor grinned as the lights in the central column told him all was well. He sat on the near-empty picnic hamper, which he’d carted back to the TARDIS once he’d finished with the wheelbarrow.
“Right, Rose. I’ve set that at Gas Mark Three for one minute. We’ll materialise in orbit around Skaro. A relatively short jump ahead. The seeds should have grown into our special sign. We’ll have a gander at that. Then, with the flick of a switch, we’ll go straight to the nearest decent chip shop – that’s something I programmed to save time. Even though this is a time machine. No bother.”
He was almost right. They materialised over Skaro, and used the zoom features on the scanner to pick up the message. DEATH TO THE DALEKS. There appeared to be some apple trees growing there, too. Time was a casual thing, to time travellers.
The Doctor disappeared, to change into his regular outfit.
“Here I am, back again. Good as new.”
“Pinstriped suit and the overcoat. Do you need to drape the brown coat over your shoulders? Makes you look like an Intergalactic Spiv.”
“I’m surprised you know what a spiv is.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve seen repeats of Dad’s Army on the telly. Walker
“You do know what a spiv is. I am flash. Don’t make much money, though. On the side or otherwise. As for black-market goods…they come in handy.”
“Ready for chips, then?”
“With a flick of this switch, we’ll be there in no time.”
He was far from right. As the violent flash in the heart of the TARDIS testified.
Chapter Two.
Not for the first time, the Doctor’s head collided with the edge of the great console in the control room. Rose often complained about the shakiness of some of the more…adventurous…flights. She wasn’t the first to make rather petty stabiliser complaints. And she wouldn’t be the last.
Voices crowded around the Time Lord, pushing the wheezing rush of the time engines out of his hearing. A white flash. Blue haze. Green flash. Gunpowder smells. Dairy products. Linoleum. He had lost the power of concentration. Or had he?
He was able to concentrate on the fact that he’d lost the power of concentration. So, things weren’t completely hopeless. Unless he wasn’t concentrating at all. Perhaps he was fixated on the idea of losing concentration. More voices. His own? He was the one babbling at Rose.
“Pay attention, Susan.”
“Rose.”
“Really, Jamie.”
“Doctor?”
“Come along, Jo.”
“Doctor. It’s me. Rose.”
“Would you like a Jelly Baby?”
“Not now.”
“Sarah? Harry?”
“Rose.”
“A rose by any other name would have a Jelly Baby, you know. Who are you?”
“Rose Marion Tyler. Off the Powell Estate. Remember? What about my mum, Jackie? I know you’re such a fan. You couldn’t forget her. Remember Mickey? From the same place. We all like chips.”
“Mickey Smiff. Well, who doesn’t like chips? Wait. What am I doing on the floor?”
“Remember the huge explosion, and air rushing around? You hit your head on the console. Then there was a lot of babbling.”
“Nonsense. The console never babbles. Occasionally, it bubbles when seriously overheated…”
“Are you okay?”
“Yep. Absolutely fine.”
“Prove it.”
“I can’t. What are you going to do? Ask me what date it is? Or the year? The name of the Prime Minister? Listen, I have a smashing notion. We could nip out and have those chips, right. Then lay a bet on a woman becoming Prime Minister before you-know-who stabs Ted Heath in the back and runs for the job herself. What do you say to that?”
Rose didn’t have much to say. The Doctor was right. How could she check a time traveller for signs of an altered mental state? Did Gallifreyans suffer from concussion? She considered holding several fingers in front of his face, but she might form some rude Gallifreyan gesture. If the Gallifreyans had such a thing. Which she doubted.
“What’s my name?”
“Rose.”
“Not Susan, Jamie, or Harry?”
“I really must have babbled.”
“You were trying to give me an overview of Unclaimed Babies.”
“Victorian sweets.”
“Later revived as Peace Babies.”
“To commemorate the end of the First World War.”
“And revamped much later as Jelly Babies.”
“Did I offer you Jelly Babies, Rose?”
“You offered. But you didn’t have any. What happened?”
“I expect that I ate them all to myself. Old habit of mine. I always offered…”
Rose sat on the Doctor’s level. She braced one arm on the console base, and folded her knees under herself. The Doctor rolled forward and managed to attain a cross-legged position. Ghastly red light filled the TARDIS, pulsing faintly. A great crunching sound settled into silence.
“Have we stopped?”
“I think so.”
“Well, Doctor?”
“I’d have to look at the control console. Don’t feel too steady, though. I suspect that a foul power just yanked us out of the time vortex. Though you don’t just yank anything out of the time vortex. Give me a minute. That was quite powerful, whatever it was.”
“Did it damage the TARDIS?”
“Quite possibly. Red light’s unusual. Or is that only me?”
“I see it too.”
“Were you hit on the head?”
“No.”
“Good. That’s my job, you know. Being hit on the head. I’m going to stand. You’ll assist. Assistant.”
Rose was, to use a popular term, crapping herself. For all the Doctor’s serious comments about the indestructibility of the TARDIS, there had been times when she’d wondered. The external TARDIS was a doorway. A moveable portal granting access to any time or place. An illusion.
The doors linking the exterior universe to the vast interior were indestructible. Hardly anything could breach the doors. Rose imagined that a cup of water thrown into the control console’s innards would be a different matter. Had she done something wrong, by walking off into the other control room?
“Was this my fault? A button I pressed, or my going into that other room?”
The Time Lord was leaning heavily on her shoulder. He could tell that time energy had rattled around inside the TARDIS. Concussion was the least of the Doctor’s worries. A powerful entity, organisation, or bad guy had attempted to siphon energy from the time engines. And the TARDIS, poor girl, was hurt. He felt her pain.
“Good job I have an assistant to stand on. Legs don’t feel up to the job. Energy drain. Plucked the TARDIS out of the time vortex. I felt the side-effects myself. That’s when I crashed and hit the console. This isn’t concussion. Flip that switch for me Jo, there’s a good girl.”
“Rose.”
“What did I say?”
“You keep calling me male names. Harry, Jamie, and Joe.”
“Tom and Dick were too busy to join the fun. Jamie and…Jo…stood in. Preset journeys have been wiped out. We’ve landed, I see. Good news. Earth. Bad news. Back further than I’d intended. Good news. Not a problem. Scanner, Harry. Don’t give me that look, Rose. I’m taking the pith.”
“You do remember who I am. I can stop crapping myself now. Here we are…at the edge of a pond. Looks like early morning in winter. Wrap up warm. If we’re going out. Which we are.”
“Scanner view is a bit low in the water. I think we’re in a pond.”
“How do we walk out the doors? When we open them, will the TARDIS flood?”
“No. The pond will drain away throughout the TARDIS. I can pump excess water to the swimming pool. Then we’ll just walk across the mud.”
“You aren’t helping.”
“Joking. Don’t think three-dimensionally. The water will stay outside. I could let it in. The doorway is a very sophisticated portal. Meant for us. Not for incompatible gases, or extremely dangerous conditions. You could bicycle in and out, but the pond water would stay where it is.”
“We can materialise on the moon. Slip into some spacesuits, open the doors, and just step through.”
“For a round of golf. Been done, though. I hear there’s quite a waiting-list for that course. Wouldn’t want to cramp anyone’s style. Back to the main problem. Someone’s grabbed my TARDIS.”
“I know it’s possible, as I was right here when it happened. But…how could it happen?”
“There are rules. And rules can be broken. Not that they always should be broken. You have to leave a few intact. For example, the anti-hijacking device built into every TARDIS.”
“Wouldn’t you need to know a TARDIS was there in front of you before you could nick one?”
“I’m not talking about stealing a TARDIS.”
“No need to be touchy.”
“Hijacking one. At gunpoint, say.”
“Oh. A rogue passenger decides to have strange ideas.”
“Yes. And the Eye of Harmony prevents all that. Mostly.”
“I’ll take your word on the odd name of the machine. But I question the use of mostly at the end.”
“The Eye of Harmony circuitry generates telepathic control of living beings and electronic or mechanical control of machine-like creatures. A slightly warped view of reality prevents violent action from occurring inside the TARDIS. Weapons are rendered inoperable. Users are likewise incapable of acting wickedly.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Doesn’t always work, though.”
“Oh.”
“We should have the right to fly peacefully wherever we please. Something has broken one of the major rules, and damaged the TARDIS during a different kind of hijacking. You haven’t mutinied and seized control of the TARDIS internally. That would be almost impossible. A powerful force has plucked the TARDIS out of time, instead. Also, almost impossible.”
“And this mystery villain has brought us to Earth?”
“In…the winter of 1933. Why here? And now? Who is to say that the mystery villain is a villain, though? This could be someone’s idea of a cosmic distress-signal. Perhaps, as usual, we’re here to help. Wrap up warm. And grab two pairs of waders. I think we’ll need them.”
“Waders. I could be hours in stores, picking out clothes.”
“Good. Gives me time to steady my legs.”
Rose wandered the halls. She felt a bit scared. The Doctor was acting oddly. More oddly than usual. And that was unusual. The friendly halls were gone. She moved through a blood-red world. Emergency lights, maybe? Danger lights? Was the TARDIS bleeding light? Rose thought of submariners, dealing with the aftermath of combat on a depth-charged boat.
“Bring a brolly! It’s starting to rain.”
Rose changed into dark trousers, a dark blue shirt, and a navy pullover. She grabbed an old dark grey greatcoat and started stuffing handy items into the pockets. Grey gloves completed the picture. She carried two sets of green waders into the control room.
“Here. We can put these on together, and have a laugh. Further thoughts on the technical side?”
“I tried dematerialising, but we’re stuck.”
“When? I never heard the engines going. Oh. That bad?”
“Mm. Never mind. We get to investigate! And slap naughty wrists.”
“Bad aliens!”
“Yes. We’re facing aliens. Humans didn’t do this to the old girl. Though I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Thanks a bunch. Are you going to wear that spiv suit?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you…feeling better, Doctor?”
“Yes. Though I’ve also felt better than I’m feeling now. And that’s pissing me off.”
“Equipment check. Sonic screwdriver?”
“Yes.”
“Intergalactic Mobile Phone™. Got that?”
“I have. We won’t split up, though. That’s a bad tactic.”
“Worked in the past.”
“Good point. Do you have your phone?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Off we go, then. Oh. Don’t forget a brolly.”
“Right.”
The two stranded time travellers wrestled into their waders, burst out laughing, and made ready to head out into the pouring rain. Rose hurried, as best she could, back to an umbrella stand. Without looking too closely at her choice of brolly, she grabbed the handle and waddled to the main control room. The Doctor had already opened the doors. Dark water didn’t spill in.
“How do we explain this big blue box, stuck in the pond?”
“We don’t have to. Come on. Mind how you go as you step from inside to outside. Start wading before you start wading.”
“This barrier won’t collapse, will it?”
“Might do. If it does as we walk across, at least we won’t have to explain a missing pond.”
“We’re screened by those trees. Who would see the pond disappear?”
“Yes. Don’t slip. Or I’ll laugh at you.”
From the outside, observers would have seen a blue box wheeze into existence. A ghastly red light flashed somewhere on top, and then faded. Ripples spread across the pond as water was displaced by the time machine’s arrival. Those ripples had settled by the time two waddling figures emerged.
The sky darkened with heavy rain.
Winter-bare trees made Rose feel gloomy. And foolish, in her perfect tan. The Doctor wasn’t going to explain ANYTHING to the locals. Strange blue boxes in ponds. His name. Occupation. His companion’s occupation. The deep tan.
Water didn’t seep into the TARDIS. It slapped against nothingness. Rose watched the Doctor wade from air into a few feet of murky pond. He didn’t fall over. She cradled her brolly under her arm and waded in. Everything felt cold. The wind bit at her face.
A horrid red light was shut off behind her, as the door closed. After a two-minute stumble, they emerged from the pond with mud falling away from their waders in chunks. Rose felt alone. The Doctor turned and grimaced as the rain picked up.
“This is more like the Skaro I remember.”
“Is that a recommendation? Visit Scenic Skaro. I can’t see tourism catching on.”
“Evolution. Once creatures develop opposable thumbs, life usually runs downhill. Before you know, the remnants of civilisation climb into portable life-support units. Opposable thumbs go right out the window. Evil pepper-pot shaped zappy shouty warbling tin cans take over.”
“That place was a paradise.”
“Just thinking about these winter-dead trees reminded me of the past.”
“That and actually being on a nicer version of Skaro.”
“No. Technically, the planet wasn’t called Skaro. We were on a beautiful unnamed world.”
“Keep things that way in our memories. Let’s not dwell on that. Job to do. Are you up to it?”
“This way.”
The time travellers disappeared through the trees, one minute before two local yokels wandered across the field to stare at the blue box stuck in the pond. Those locals hadn’t happened on the box by chance. They made no remarks about the strangeness of the scene, for they had seen stranger things than blue boxes in ponds.
One farmer-type pointed to water-filled footprints trailing away from the edge of the pond. The second rustic turned and faced toward the unseen cluster of buildings far beyond the bare trees. An electronic message left the disguised metal man’s head and entered the brain of another, in the village of Fenby
*Obviously, they are making straight for the house.*
*Why go there?*
*Hard to understand their motivation.*
*I would rather wait here, with this infernal machine.*
*The time for subtlety is long over. Let’s kill the creatures before they reach the village.*
*They must return to the machine.*
*Think of the lifespan. We might be in for a long wait.*
*Very well. Set for maximum energy dispersal.*
*That’s going too far.*
*We’ll say that we heard thunder. The villagers will be fooled.*
*
“Spooky trees.”
“No Dalek City
“I am. Not petrified. Scared.”
“Well, there was that time in Rome
“I was worried about you. Back there, in the TARDIS. Babbling.”
“Something unreal tore at the edge of my mind. And battered the TARDIS. We’re up against an odd force. Rose, this is very dangerous.”
“Boring. I eat very dangerous for breakfast.”
“This is a three-course meal of very dangerous, made that much riskier by the surprise addition of a second life-threatening dessert. Topped off with huge dollops of cataclysmic universe-shattering peril, and a light dusting of run-like-hell sprinkles. With sulphurous coffee to follow. Fire and brimstone.”
Rose ducked under low branches. The rain slackened as clouds shifted in the changing wind. Bits of her were dotted throughout history. Her own solid life, up until she met the Doctor, had a regular place in the scheme of things. After that meeting, she was here, there, and everywhere. And when.
Here she was, with a great tan, scrambling under trees in winter rain, 1933-style. She’d served as the model for a statue of Fortuna in ancient Rome
If they could visit a time in which she could make that claim legitimately, Rose would feel great about namedropping. Until then, she let the Doctor drop most of the conversational clangers. The trees were thinning. She pointed to a road, just ahead.
“Yet, with all that danger involved, we simply plod on. To that road.”
“Why not. From the little I could gather at the console, the TARDIS wasn’t brought down next to the source of the signal. The old girl fought her attackers off. Gave me a migraine.”
“You’re not saying the TARDIS was nagging at you? Do you think she heard you discussing her plumbing? The swimming pool, and all that.”
“This effect is local, whatever it is. We check out the nearest village. Find out if anything strange happened around here lately, slap the handcuffs on the obvious alien presence, and finish our journey.”
“Twice around the lighthouse, and home in time for tea.”
“Precisely. Or, more precisely…chips.”
The rain thickened. A slight slope led up to the road. The Doctor gallantly went first, aiming to assist his own assistant. A wave of dizziness hit him and he slipped back past Rose. She narrowly dodged aside and scrambled to the road before the Doctor could drag her back down with him.
“Tricky stuff, that mud.”
“And those legs of yours.”
“Must be these waders, Rose.”
“You should be used to Earth’s gravity by now. Want a hand?”
“No thanks, I can manage with two. You’re clear of the branches. Should be safe to put that umbrella up. That’ll give you something to do while I recover my dignity climbing the North Face of the tiny mound in front of me.”
Rose raised her umbrella and found that the vanes had no panes. She’d grabbed the ice brolly.
“Bollocks!”
“Rose! Language!”
“I’ve brought the ice brolly by mistake.”
“No problem. You can adjust the setting. Turn the cold dial. That one. Other way. As the cold trails off, the panes darken. It’ll look like an ordinary brolly now. Not an…ice brolly. I like the sound of that. Did I call it that before? Yes, good. Problem solved.”
“So we head into town and pick out the obvious aliens.”
“The TARDIS is on the fritz. She holds no clues to what happened.”
“We’re looking for a spaceship. Which is capable of detecting a TARDIS.”
“Maybe. We could be looking for a spaceship which accidentally knocked the TARDIS out of the time vortex. In which case, I might fix the spaceship. Improve the engines. At the very least, monkey around with the technology to make our departure possible.”
“I don’t fancy being stuck in this time.”
“Why not?”
“Six years, and we’re at war with Adolf.”
“Don’t tell the natives.”
“No. I won’t. What’s that? Can you hear twigs snapping?”
“Yes. Back there. Coming from the direction of the pond. A couple of natives. Bill and Ben, the Flowerpot Men. Now remember what I said.”
“They don’t seem very friendly-looking.”
“Ah. They might have worked the fields back there. And found our blue box. Illegal dumping. We’ll play this one subtly.”
Rose watched the approach of the two farmers. She’d been around the universe a time or two, and didn’t care for the manner of their walk. They walked like monsters. Purposefully. Boldly. And, most importantly, in a very heavy way. Were they shapechangers?
“Doctor. Are they heavier than they look?”
“Yes, I was just starting to think that myself. When I say run, run!”
“Oi! Wait for me!”
“I said it twice, Rose, weren’t you paying attention? Come on!”
The slight slope saved them.
Instead of running down the road to left or right, the Doctor vaulted past Rose and headed straight across. The land dipped again on the other side. Rose was forced to follow the Doctor’s lead. A frantic backward glance told her that the farmers were in no hurry to pursue. Not when they could raise their arms and shoot.
Brolly flailing as she ran, Rose wondered if she’d meet her end on this unknown road. Dressed in absurd clothes. In the company of a man who didn’t even have a name. The closest he came to that was when he introduced himself as Doctor John Smith, one-time scientific consultant to the United Nations. He usually left off the bit about the Intelligence Taskforce.
Rose felt the men spitting wind in her direction. That was the only way to describe the sensation. A huge rumble followed, just like thunder minus lightning. They’d split the air with their attack, and the separated walls of air collided and created a thunderclap. The slight slope leading to the road erupted in a shower of earth.
“Faster!”
She regretted throwing on the waders. But the men were plodding around, too. So all things were equal. Except for the annoying bit about weaponry. The Doctor’s voice sailed to her. He was picking out as safe a route as possible between the trees on the far side. Rose caught the cry behind her, too.
“Surrender and die, Time Lord!”
“We are wise to your ways!”
Her heart-rate was up. No. Higher than that. Wise. At least they’d discovered the aliens. And those aliens were wise to the Doctor’s ways. The aliens knew he was a Time Lord. Therefore, they knew that he had a TARDIS. They’d seen it, at the pond. And they’d gone to the pond after tracking the falling TARDIS to its landing-site. Which hadn’t taken them long. They were close. Or, there ship was.
Rose reached the edge of the trees and stopped. She saw that the Doctor had done the same, though he was further in. He was struggling to get at his sonic screwdriver. No. He’d pulled out a knife. The waders. He was going to cut his way out. There wasn’t time. Which, for a Time Lord, skirted irony.
He cast his eyes around. This was a stupid way to die. Would he die, though? Rose expected him to come back to life in a new body. She’d be toast. The Doctor pointed to a tree, and his pocket knife. He beckoned her, and disappeared. Find cover. Improve your chances of escape by ditching cumbersome equipment. He had the right idea.
But not enough time in which to enact that idea.
Rose faced the road. Human-seeming heads bobbed into view, cresting the rise. She had one weapon. Her mind. Which was crapping itself. Deciding to use fear as her weapon, she hefted her ice brolly and dialled the power to maximum. A wave of cold air hit her. The panes between the vanes left their blackened state and faded to near-transparent. Rose lowered the umbrella and used it as a shield.
The ice brolly was slightly wider than a massive golf umbrella. If she angled it properly, she’d be completely shielded. The aliens fired radiation. Or a ray-gun. Was the alien ray radioactive? She hoped so. Would the brolly protect her? Give the Doctor long enough to cut the waders away?
Human-seeming heads rose, revealing human-seeming torsos. There was a very heavy clump to the footsteps on that road. Human-seeming arms were raised. The two farmers stopped. What had stopped them? They pointed their arms at Rose. She wasn’t ten feet away.
Behind his tree, the Doctor had used advanced mathematical ideas to carve the waders from his legs in the shortest time and with the least effort. He told himself this to make the situation seem far better than it was. In truth, he fluked it.
Rose hadn’t joined him. He readied his sonic screwdriver. That was quite a blast from those aliens. Could he deflect one with his sonic screwdriver? One, perhaps. Two? He crouched, and peeked around the edge of the tree. Rose had seen the Doctor’s game, and raised it considerably.
The ice brolly. Smoke appeared to be pouring from inside the brolly. Ice fumes. She must have set it to maximum. That wasn’t recommended in the manual. Not for prolonged periods. You could inviolate the warranty. Kiss your ice brolly goodbye.
But the brolly had been at maximum for a very short time. The Doctor set his sonic screwdriver, ready for action. Neither alien advanced. Both aimed at Rose in a confused manner. The Doctor took advantage of the momentary lapse and scouted around for anything he could use. There was a fence a bit deeper in the woodlands. He planned to vault that at the first opportunity. Rose was still in waders.
“We know you are there, Time Lord. Your tracks betray you.”
“That shield you bear will not keep us at bay.”
Were they talking to her? Rose felt panic fall away from her heart. She was shaking, true. But the aliens didn’t know that she was almost wetting herself. They were talking to her. Did they think that she. Yes. She was the Time Lord they were after. Wouldn’t that make her a Time Lady?
Steeling herself for speech, rather than battle, Rose considered putting on an upper-crust accent. Then thought better of herself. No matter the language she used, the aliens would understand her. If they truly knew the Time Lord ways, then they’d know about the gift of language imparted by the TARDIS.
“This shield will do more than protect me, you alien f…fiend. Fire away, and see your pathetic ray rebound into your face. Go on. I dare you.”
Rose’s use of the word fiend had come at the last second, and only after a great effort of will on her part. She sensed a figure moving behind her. The Doctor crouched behind the ice brolly and patted Rose on the back. He whispered as the human-alien figures glanced at one another.
“Good work. I’ll just cut these waders off and we can pole-vault over a nearby fence. Keep talking. I think they aren’t as powerful as we thought. For creatures who can blow up the countryside.”
One alien farmhand, or possibly a farmer in his own right, lowered his shooting arm. The other stepped sideways. So much for that great plan. Unless she could make them believe her lies. They thought she was a Time Lord. Rose decided to act like one.
“Go on. Split up. Have your colleague walk behind my shield. This gas you see pouring out from the rear will neutralise your ray, even if you do sneak behind me. Gallifreyan technology is more than a match for anything the humans can throw at me. And for anything you might throw at me. Why don’t you surrender? And apologise.”
“That is not in our nature.”
“A vehicle is approaching.”
“We will continue this fight at your vessel. You must return to it, when you attempt to leave.”
The two aliens retreated in the direction of the pond. Rose kicked off the remains of her waders and dialled down the ice brolly power. Waves of cold had seeped right through to her skin. Her memory of the luxurious heat on Skaro faded.
“Well done, Rose. That was utterly mad.”
“Thanks. Do we go after them? Over to their side of the road?”
“That’s our only lead. We should. They are on the run. Tables turned, and all that.”
“He was right. I can hear a car.”
“Quick, fold your brolly. Switch it off.”
“Those aliens looked human. This village you had in mind. Suppose the inhabitants are all aliens, and we have no humans to talk to. You know. They’re all in on the scheme.”
“I’ve been in situations like that before. And will be again. I find the best thing is to wing it.”
A car appeared from the right, and stopped at the scene of destruction. The driver popped out to have a look at the hole in the ground. When he left his car, he spotted the two figures walking over. Perhaps they approached a little too casually.
“Hello. You missed all the fuss.”
“What happened?”
“Lightning. Didn’t you hear the thunder?”
“I thought I did.”
“We were very lucky. My assistant here dropped her brolly, and the lightning went for that instead of us. What a time to go walking, in a thunderstorm.”
“Yes. Why, the lightning’s blasted all the material from your brolly. Are you feeling all right, dear?”
“Why shouldn’t I be feeling all right? The lightning missed me, after all.”
“You must be shaken, though. Hop in, and I’ll give you a lift to town.”
“Right.”
“Thanks.”
“Fenby.”
“Pleased to meet you, Fenby. I’m the Doctor. This is Rose.”
“Oh, no. Fenby is the next village. I’m Dudley Simpson. The Postmaster.”
“Ah.”
Rose rolled her eyes at the Doctor as Dudley Simpson engaged in banter and invited her to sit up front. Clearly, Dudley Simpson was from Earth. He liked scones with his tea and listened to Elgar on the radio. The Doctor took up his station in the back and lounged dangerously between the two figures in the front of the car. What was he thinking? That this would be a long journey? Rose expected otherwise. The car started. Aliens didn’t attack.
“Funny that I should bump into another Doctor on the road.”
“Another Doctor?”
“Yes. Oh, it must be a decade now since I met the other one on the open road. Not out this way. On the other side of town. Outside the town. Funny fellow, he was. Wouldn’t mention his name at first. Ended up buying the big house. The Grange.”
“Fascinating stuff.”
Dudley Simpson was a sexist pig. He didn’t mind having a pretty girl in the front of the car, but he was obviously set in his ways when it came to evaluating Rose’s role in the scheme of things. Dudley ignored her and spoke to the Doctor. The Doctor played along. Shameless. And this, just after Rose saved the Doctor’s intergalactic bacon by bluffing a couple of stroppy aliens. She bit her tongue as the Doctor kept the chit-chat going. Being ignored was nothing. She’d been shot at.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m the Doctor.”
“Did you ever meet the other Doctor? That’s how he introduced himself. Are all Doctors like that?”
“Depends on the type of Doctor.”
“Medicine?”
“I’m not that…”
“…type of Doctor. There can’t be two of you. He said that. Are you a Doctor of philosophy?”
“I suppose we all are.”
“Ah, so you all learn your training at the same school.”
“Which is why we all speak with the same manner. Bedside, or otherwise.”
“Explains everything.”
“Good.”
“What a strange night that was. I couldn’t sleep, and went for a walk. Very odd atmosphere. Bumped into the Doctor. He had a bit of trouble with his car. Now I bump into another Doctor, all these years later. And you’ve had trouble with your umbrella.”
“They’ll be calling you names in the village. Bumping into doctors. You’ll be the impatient patient.”
“I’ll have to slow for this big puddle. Don’t think my car can take it. Where are you from?”
“Good question. Obviously, you’re wondering about our tanned skin.”
“Yes. You’re not from Ireland
“What a coincidence. All these people. Not one Irish.”
“But he’d spent time there.”
“Wonderful. Listen, Dudley , I don’t mean to be rude, but, we’re in the area working for the Government. I’m Doctor Bond – James Bond. And this is my secretary, Rose Moneypenny.”
“Bless you.”
Dudley Simpson had brought his car to a halt and blessed Rose as a reflex action to what sounded like a sneeze. Rose was trying not to laugh. She hoped that Dudley wouldn’t go to see a James Bond movie in his old age, and start to make disconcerting connections.
“I can show you my official paperwork if you like.”
“Yes, I suppose you’d better.”
“Doctor Bond. With the Ministry of Supply. We’re looking into supply problems. Don’t want to cause a fuss. Fenby is the nearest village…”
“That’s right.”
“Next on our list, but my assistant lost her map in the rain. That’s when she dropped her umbrella.”
Rose was caught short at this dig. The Doctor had deliberately cooled her laughter with that trick. She was fuming again. If they were on official business, how were they to explain their arrival in town? Had she crashed their car?
“We’re looking into odd happenings.”
“Oh. I don’t suppose you can say?”
“No. We find the odd happenings, and then investigate them. There are dozens of dedicated Ministry of Supply agents, out there. Looking for the truth.”
“Mulder, and that redhead from Stores.”
Rose couldn’t resist her own dig. Either the Doctor ignored her comment in order to avoid bursting into a fit of laughter, or he’d seen less television on the scanner than he’d claimed. His scanner was supposed to be used for viewing the outside world from the safety and relative comfort of the TARDIS. But the scanner’s reception was clearest when tuned to the BBC radio and television networks.
Rain purred off the car windows as Dudley Simpson, Fenby’s Postmaster, examined the Doctor’s identification. Rose, being female, was beneath Dudley ’s attention. The man didn’t mean to be sexist. But, in not asking for Moneypenny’s identification, Dudley saved Rose an embarrassing moment. She’d have to admit losing the vital document in the rain. Along with the car.
“Odd happenings. You’re a decade late. The only odd thing was the arrival and departure of Doctor Lions. That started with a light in the sky, and ended with a bit of a localised storm.”
“A light in the sky. Tell me about that.”
“There you go again. That’s what he said. I say, did you come by car?”
“We were dropped off.”
“By Mulder.”
“Thank you, Miss Moneypenny. We don’t have to explain every action to Dudley .”
“You aren’t after German spies?”
“Not today.”
“Oh.”
The Doctor leaned forward to retrieve his wallet thingy with the psychic notepaper inside, and his sonic screwdriver slid to the floor of the car. Dudley heard the clatter and reached down automatically. He lifted the high-powered instrument up to the windscreen, to get a better look at the object.
“You’ve dropped your…”
“Scientific measuring device. I call it a…”
“…sonic screwdriver?”
“Toothbrush. As it resembles a toothbrush. Without the bristles. Why would you call it a sonic screwdriver, Dudley ?”
Rose was looking everywhere but at Dudley . This random stint of hitchhiking had taken a curious turn for the weird. Dudley had met the Doctor. Who didn’t mention his name at first. Tough a Doctor, he wasn’t that type of Doctor. Presumably, he had a sonic screwdriver.
“I saw the other fellow with a similar instrument one day.”
“And Doctor Lions just came right out and mentioned the thing by name?”
“He did.”
“And he disappeared.”
“I think he went back to Galway, in Ireland Galway . Loughrea. No, it was a place between the two. Sounded similar. Galway . Loughrea. Galway . Loughrea. It’s gone. Can’t remember.”
The Doctor clenched his jaw. Rose stared straight ahead. One of them had to mention the obvious thing. In the end, the Time Lord’s nerve held longer than that of his human assistant, and Rose cleared her throat to ask, as innocently as possible, if the name of the place might be…
“Gallifrey?”
“That’s the place. Do you know Doctor Lions? Have you come about his work?”
“No pulling the wool over your eyes, Dudley . We’ve uncovered fresh information. But this isn’t a murder investigation. Or a disappearance. There are…cross-jurisdictional problems. And we’ve been sent in, as the first wave. I wasn’t aware that you knew the Doctor. But, as it’s all come out in the car, I suppose we’ll just have to trust you. Keep it to yourself, eh.”
“Of course. Are you feeling a bit sick, dear?”
“I need a breath of fresh. Doctor.”
“She’s prone to seasickness. Er, and…travel sickness, generally. Give us a few minutes.”
*
Dudley Simpson tried valiantly to remember the name of the place. Had it been Gallifrey? He recalled the sonic screwdriver easily enough. Looking through the smeared window at the two travellers, he wondered what sort of investigative powers they had.
That was the Dudley Simpson of 1933. Forty-ish, set in his ways, liked a cuppa. The thirty-ish Dudley Simpson, still energetic and enthusiastic, also liked a cuppa. But he lived in 1923. And, in 1923, he drew another make of car to a gravel-spitting halt in front of the big house called Grange after a man by that name.
*
Doctor Lions had made short work of buying the place. He hadn’t been in town a week, and the deal was done. Dudley suspected that a Doctor of Philosophy would probably spend most of his time studying philosophy, or pursuing it across the hills with a butterfly net.
But it would be poor form not to pop in and say hello. Dudley ’s wife Dora had baked a cake. Rather than invite the Doctor over, be snubbed, and have his wife’s feelings hurt, Dudley decided to take the cake to the mad scientist. He told Dora not to call the Doctor a mad scientist, but she just laughed. All scientists were mad.
With the imposing house ahead of him, and a grotesque door-knocker to confront, Dudley Simpson felt caught in the grip of the strangest fear. There would be no friendly welcome here. Nonsense. Put those thoughts away.
“My dear fellow, do come in.”
“Just brought a cake round. My wife baked it for you. A welcome present.”
“Then you shall have a slice. Tea? Or something stronger?”
“I shouldn’t drive drunk.”
“Coffee.”
“Oh. I suppose you’ve travelled a bit. I’ve never had coffee. Yes, I’ll try that.”
Doctor Lions led Dudley through a warren of passages and hallways to the kitchen at the rear of the death-quiet house. Dudley imagined that he heard a humming from the right. Buzzing in his ear, probably from his time in artillery.
They settled down to a bare functional kitchen, and the Doctor made tea. Cake was divided, and conquered. Dudley could hear a tiny whine. He stared at a strange object on the kitchen counter. A wand of some shiny material, with a light at one end. Interesting. A very thin electric torch, perhaps. The Doctor caught Dudley ’s stare.
“Sonic screwdriver. New idea. A screwdriver capable of operating electrically.”
“Bit of an inventor are you? My wife said you might be a mad scientist.”
“There’s nothing mad about science.”
“No.”
“Seen anything strange around here lately?”
“Just your screwdriver.”
“What’s been happening?”
“Nothing much. A few new people came to the village. Workers, looking to pick up jobs on the farms. Nothing to shout about.”
“Good.”
That had been the extent of Dudley ’s contact with the Doctor. Within six months, he’d gone, and the property had passed into other hands. Those hands were unseen. The Doctor left, there was a huge storm, and life went on as before. Dudley Simpson was the man who once gave a Doctor a lift. And now he was the man who’d given another Doctor a lift.
*
“We’re in trouble, Doctor.”
“Now calm down.”
“Why should I. You’ve been here before.”
“No.”
“Then what’s happening?”
“This could be coincidence. You fed the man that name.”
“Gallifrey. He latched onto it. Not out of desperation. That was recognition in his voice. And he was the first to mention the sonic screwdriver.”
“Bum.”
“Do we travel back in time to meet an earlier version of Dudley ?”
“No. He didn’t recognise us. Unless…I meet him in disguise. That would make sense.”
“The TARDIS isn’t working.”
“Therefore, we must find a way to bypass this alien blockage in order to travel back.”
“Why would we go back in time?”
“To let ourselves know that we COULD go back in time. Sounds like the clever sort of thing I would do. I’m over there, in the past, waving to us in the present. As a signal. Hey, there’s a way out of here!”
“Into the past. Sounds dodgy.”
“We’ll investigate this house I bought in 1923.”
“I didn’t like the sound of that storm. Could be an alien gun-battle. Suppose we are obliterated in the past. And we decide to go back and investigate what turns out to be our own doom?”
“Keep your brolly handy. That trick might work on full power.”
“So. There are definitely aliens in the past?”
“A light in the sky. Spaceship. Classic. Has to be.”
“How do we solve this if we go jumping through time? The aliens can block the TARDIS.”
“We’ll overcome that minor technical difficulty, and pop back for a quick look-see.”
“Fix the problem. Temporarily.”
“Why not permanently, Rose? I think they’re in want of a slap, personally.”
“We can’t destroy the aliens in the past. They still have to be kicking around to trap us here at the pond in the present. Start thinking like a Time Lord, Doctor.”
“Miaow. She impersonates a Time Lord for two seconds and suddenly she’s Queen of the Castle.”
“Oi. She’s standing right here. Wouldn’t I be a Time Lady?”
“Sounds too much like Dinner Lady. Lollipop Lady. Lady of Ill-Repute.”
“Oi. Watch it.”
“Dudley ’s fidgeting in the car. We’d best climb back in before he reports us for being German spies.”
*
The Fenby sign flashed by in driving rain. There wasn’t much to the village. Dudley offered tea and biscuits at his house, but the Doctor declined in favour of spreading some of his money at the small tearoom in the High Street. Which was, pretty much, the only street. Dudley waved and drove off.
“Scones. Not chips. Sorry Rose.”
“I’m just surprised you offered to pay, this time.”
“Well, I have some of the old money on me. Shouldn’t call it the old money just yet. Don’t look now, but there’s a farmer-type glaring through the window.”
“At us, of course. I’ll just shake my brolly.”
“You do that.”
“Is he one of the blokes from earlier?”
“Farmer Giles and Farmer Brown? No. This is Farmer Barleymow. He’s gone down the street. Doesn’t want to cause a fuss. Don’t look round.”
“This is a good scone. I’m not a massive scone fan. But I have to admit…what’s he doing now?”
“Tinkering with a van.”
“His own? Or is he nicking one?”
“I think we should move to the back of the tearoom.”
“Nearer the counter?”
“He’s clearly noticed that we’re the only ones in here. And we’re at the front. Maybe nearer the counter isn’t far enough back, Rose. We could ask if there’s a toilet.”
“Or a back door.”
“You go. Keep it casual. I’ll act as bait.”
“Very gentlemanly of you. We’re after a change of clothes. A disguise. And I don’t mean for travelling back in time, either. I mean just to cross the High Street in. Without being attacked.”
Rose walked to the rear of the tearoom and engaged Mrs Egan in light conversation. The owner of Egan’s tearoom was happy to chat away during a rainy winter’s day. Business was slow. Things were about to heat up. The thought of insurance crossed Rose’s mind. Rose decided to take Mrs Egan with her. Even if it meant playing the dumb blonde.
“Could you show me where the toilet is?”
“Through the back and to the left, love.”
“I’m useless with my left and right. Must be…er, dyslexic. It would be easier if you just showed me to the door.”
“Oh. Right then. Maybe I should say, left then.”
Rose glanced at the Doctor. He nodded, as if to say Rose had a great idea. Always move the civilians out of harm’s way if you can. He turned his attention to the van. The alien farmer was reversing. Slowly. Lining up the attack-run.
The Doctor faced the front of the shop. Ahead, to his right, down the street, was a would-be assassin. The Doctor sat on the left-hand side of the teashop. Rose was too far back to be caught in the crunch at that angle. Mrs Egan was showing Rose to the rear-right of the shop, relative to the Doctor’s position.
As with most battles, it was a question of timing. Waiting until the alien couldn’t correct its course. Then the Doctor would leap out of the way. A rotund gentleman in a suit struggled through the front door. Bad timing. The Doctor stood and fished out his psychic identification.
“Ministry of Hygiene. We’re closed. Snap-inspection. My assistant’s taken Mrs Egan to the kitchen, to look for rats. We haven’t found any, but we’ll be shut until lunchtime. I expect a clean bill of health. Come back at noon and see if we’ve posted a warning label over the door.”
“I do beg your pardon. Yes. Quite. I’ll…come back later.”
The rotund gentleman was going to find another village with another tearoom. And he would ask after the hygiene when he got there. The man had done the Doctor a favour, in giving him an excuse to leave his seat. Now that the Doctor was standing, he had no intention of sitting down again.
He glanced at his plate. Half a buttered scone left. Real butter. Great scone. He wolfed it down. Never know when you’ll have your next meal. With his mouth full of scone, and crumbs dotted around his spiv suit, the Doctor decided on a very important course of action. He slurped his tea. The alien driver of the terrestrial van reversed as far as he could, then shunted forward slightly. The Doctor moved toward the front window, and started talking to himself.
“If I step deeper into the room, he’ll correct his steering and demolish most of the business. But if I stay near the window, and shatter the glass with my sonic screwdriver, I’ll have a way out. And he’ll only smash the front of the shop.”
Thoughtfully, the Doctor swept his table back and to one side. Mrs Egan heard the scrape of chairs and turned to see what the bother was. Rose was remarking on the lovely little toilet, thinking that this was the moment of truth. The sound of a van grew louder. Rose looked for her real objective. The back door. In two steps she was through it, brolly raised and switched on.
There was an almighty crash of glass. Then the van hit the building. Mrs Egan screamed. Rose felt the whoosh of air behind her. Ahead, the air grew cold. The ice brolly was working overtime to deflect any harmful radiation coming her way.
Mrs Egan’s small back yard was a lovely little countryside cliché. Rose imagined that children were allowed to run around it in the summer, while hot and bothered parents sat in the cool interior sipping tea. The back wall had a picturesque wooden gate built into an archway.
Standing in the archway was Farmer…Rose was running out of names for these aliens. He was an older-looking alien, and she settled on Old MacDonald. He had a farm. And a spaceship. This alien wasn’t coy about pointing his arm at the Time Lady’s ice brolly. He’d decided to call her bluff.
The recoil reminded Rose of Mickey Smiff, sitting playing yet another computer game. One featuring a lone hero, out to avenge injustice by shooting everything in sight. As the villains grew larger, the size of the hero’s weapon increased until, at least halfway through, the lone hunter would be rewarded with the addition of a rocket launcher to his armoury.
A grainy night-vision goggle view of the world, Mickey on the sofa with the curtains closed. Eating packets of crisps intravenously. Repetitive strain injury, blindness, and deafness following close on the heels of malnutrition. The life and times of a computer gamer.
Boom. Rose saw the raised arm, tasted the change in the air around her, and felt the shock of the alien’s attack as it landed in the centre of her ice brolly. The recoil reminded her of Mickey Smiff, launching a rocket at a helicopter gunship. Rose’s brolly had become a bazooka. The effect rebounded, and swatted the alien away.
Rose was more surprised than the alien. The brolly pulsed, dangerously. She dialled the power down, and staggered through the garden with numbed hands. The aliens had radioed each other and circulated her description. She ditched the greatcoat, making sure that the pockets were free of equipment. The mobile phone went into her trouser pocket. She ran through the undamaged arch.
Old MacDonald had been thrown into woodland. Large clumping great footprints had come from that direction. She couldn’t see the alien. Rose turned aside, and walked along the row of houses. Smoke rose from the tearoom. She knew that Mrs Egan was fine. Screams told her that much. Perhaps fine wasn’t the right word under the circumstances.
At least the crashed van and the thunderclap happened close together. How to explain the whole business? Nothing to do with her. The Doctor had planned to leave a tip on his way out the door. Did that mean he hadn’t paid for his scone? Rose’s mobile went off.
“Doctor? Where are you?”
“In the High Street. I’ll meet you round the back in a minute. The van’s smouldering. I’m legging it. The alien threw himself clear at the last instant. That made two of us. He’s lying in the rubble. A metal man, or robot. Faceless. Oval for a head. No features. I can see his disguise flickering in and out. At least they aren’t indestructible. Though he is recovering.”
“Don’t hang around for the next bout. Meet me at the Post Office.”
*
Dudley Simpson was on the phone when Rose entered from the rear of the shop. The Doctor came in through the front door. It was quite clear that Dudley had just called the local fire brigade. He brushed past the Doctor to see how bad the damage was. They all heard shouting. Dudley ran.
“Another one came after me in the back garden. The brolly worked. Knocked him back to his own planet, I reckon.”
“Good.”
“Do we abandon the plan to find their spaceship? And just jump back in time?”
“There’s no way to get a signal. We could ask around about lights in the sky, but memories are faded by a factor of a decade on that line of investigation. I think I am Doctor Lions, from the past. Maybe I left clues to myself. In that house.”
“We can’t hang around town. Someone’s going to be killed by these creatures. They backed off before. But the aliens in town seem to be more aggressive than the country bumpkins guarding the TARDIS. I love running from danger as much as the next girl, but we have to draw a line and dare these monsters to cross that line.”
“While Dudley ’s dealing with the repercussions of a bad spot of driving, I’ll filch this map of the area and work out the best way to reach the Grange.”
“There are two bicycles in Dudley ’s kitchen.”
“He won’t mind. After all, he does have a car. Where’s your coat?”
“Ditched it. If I can find another one, and a hat, I’ll be disguised.”
“I’m going to keep wearing this spiv suit.”
“That defeats the purpose of throwing my coat away.”
“No time for that. We go…across these fields, along that lane. Off the beaten track. Should be at the Grange by one o’clock. Quick, before Dudley sees us.”
*
The Doctor’s semi-informed glance at the local map put them on a rain-sodden hill by two in the afternoon. Rose had managed to keep her umbrella steady on the flat sections, and was protected by the brolly’s lowest setting. The Doctor didn’t notice the rain. They stopped for a council of war.
“Any ideas, Rose?”
“Take another, closer, look at that map.”
“You pedal faster, we get there faster.”
“Yeah, well, my other car’s a car and not a bicycle.”
“My other car’s a Ferrari.”
“What model?”
“Ferrari TARDIS. Limited edition. In blue.”
“Fast?”
“Goes like a time machine.”
They propped the bicycles together, then hunkered down under the ice brolly to read the creased and crinkled map. Rose drew a line for the Doctor to follow. He turned the map ninety degrees, then traced the same line as though pointing something new out.
“We’re in the wrong place, all right. The house we want isn’t on top of this windswept hill. It’s over that way. Bet you’re glad I’m here to navigate.”
“Yeah. Loads.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, the Doctor freewheeled downhill and through more puddles than Rose could count. They were soaked from below, instead of above. It wasn’t long before they wheeled to a halt beside a high stone wall.
“I wonder if the aliens have put a watch on this place.”
“They know who you are. Could that be because they knew who you were, a decade ago?”
“We’ll have to be very careful when we nip back in time.”
“If we can nip back in time. They control the whole set-up.”
“Yes, but we’re having the most fun.”
“Suppose the aliens live close. Really close. There was a light in the sky, and the Doctor, Doctor Lions, bought this place. As a base? Close to the alien spaceship, maybe?”
“That’s bloody good thinking Rose. Er, which I was just coming to. My next point. We should be very careful when we nip inside this building. Could be aliens. You go first.”
“Why me?”
“If you’d rather boost me over the wall, be my guest.”
“Oh. Trying to be gentlemanly, again.”
“Always.”
“Except when it comes to paying for scones.”
“I’d have paid before I left, but a raving psycho alien assassin threw a van in my face. Not paying for scones is the least of my worries. I didn’t pay for the tea, either.”
“What a rebel.”
Rose used a steadied bicycle as a step up, and sat on the wall. She saw woodland. No farmers. She threw her brolly to the ground and jumped down, leaving the Doctor to make his own way over the wall. He toppled the bikes into the grass before he went.
The Doctor landed with a thump and a pretend ow. Rose rolled her eyes again. She did that so often that she’d probably end up developing repetitive eye-rolling strain. They trudged toward the dark cliché of an abandoned house. Hoping that it turned out to be an abandoned house.
“How do we get in?”
“Sonic screwdriver.”
“Just checking, Doctor.”
“Thanks for asking. Why are we whispering if no one’s here? Is it a girl-thing?”
“In case we only think no one’s here. That’s a human-thing.”
“Oh. Right. Let’s split up. Stay in touch by mobile phone if you have to. I want to circle this place before we break in. Should give the owner plenty of time to run out and shout at us for sneaking around the grounds.”
“Excellent idea, Shaggy. Take Scooby with you.”
*
Rose circled the house and saw nothing in rain. That’s why she fell over the shattered remains of an alien body. She scrabbled in the mud for her ice brolly, and brought the power up. If she didn’t catch frostbite after this, she’d be amazed.
As the Doctor had described, the thing was robotic. Faceless. Arms, legs, torso. All metal. Clumping big feet. They could disguise their looks. But not the shape of the tracks they left in mud. This one left no tracks. It looked old. Abused by the weather. Not rusty. Neglected. Rose nursed a bruised knee.
Think it through. This was a robot from the past. From the night of the storm in 1923. When the Doctor disappeared. At some point, she would destroy this robot. Or the Doctor would. Rose noted the position, stood, and moved on.
“Find anything?”
“Dead robot round the side of the building. Something for us to shoot at later, when we travel back in time. I don’t think I brollied the thing. Maybe you zapped it with the sonic screwdriver.”
“Very encouraging. We’ll do our best to reconstruct events from 1923 before we disrupt their signal and go there. Let’s play detective.”
*
In the past, in 1923, Doctor Lions received a letter. He was most annoyed at receiving anything through the post. No one was supposed to know that he was in town. Let alone at the Grange. The letter put a whole new complexion on things. He had a great deal of work to get through. But he decided not to make it easy work.
A hint, a puzzle, a clue. Those things would be provide far more amusement than simply setting out his version of events on a plate. He gave the matter some thought. One always had to be careful, or carefree, when dabbling in matters of time and space.
Over the six-month period, from arrival to departure, Doctor Lions, with an i, did his best to sprinkle a few clues around the old place. He suspected that, on the night, there’d be a great deal of running around. That’s how these things usually went. Preparation. He was a great believer in preparation. It avoided dependency on improvisation.
*
The Doctor improvised with his sonic screwdriver, and the front door opened. Rose brushed past him and flicked a switch. The dark hall came to life, all wood panelling and cold décor under the glare of a chandelier hovering high above on the upper floor. Rose watched the stairs. No movement.
“Electric light. Someone’s been paying the bills.”
“Let’s not sit in their chairs, eat their porridge, or lie in their beds. Okay, Goldilocks?”
Rose stuck her tongue out at the Doctor. He wagged a finger and pocketed his sonic screwdriver. Where to begin? From the top down? In the cellar, if the place had a cellar? Rose Tyler, in the library, with the lead pipe. He forced himself not to say that.
Instead, he watched his assistant walk to a telephone table. A candlestick telephone was pushed to one side, to make way for a game of chess. Only the kings were on the board, waiting to move. Rose turned and grimaced.
“I left my CSI kit in my other coat. Could have dusted for our own fingerprints.”
“Assuming we deliberately left any. Do you think that’s a clue?”
“Two kings. No armies. Are you taking the piss, in the past?”
“I’ll let you know, when we get to the past.”
“Are all the clues going to be like this? Just to let us know that we were in the past. That’s awful. I’m determined to come up with clues that mean something.”
“A clue revealing the location of the spaceship would be nice. Then we could disable the spaceship’s signal, and free the TARDIS in order to go back in time and discover where the spaceship is. In order to leave the clue to ourselves.”
“Why bother? If we find a clue telling us where it is, we can go back in time and just write the clue telling us where it is. Saves a lot of hunting around in fields and caves.”
“That’s bending the rules of time. Cheating. I quite agree. Would save a lot of mucking around inside caves and quarries and stuff. We’ll see how things go.”
“Can you hear anything?”
“No. The house sounds dead. No aliens inside. Except for me, of course. I’m alien.”
“Proud of yourself, are you?”
“Yeah. Time for the big questions. Upstairs, or downstairs?”
“We should start…”
“Upstairs it is, then. Come on, Rose. No slacking on the job.”
“I wasn’t the one who made a pointless detour up a hill.”
“That wasn’t pointless. There was a point. To go freewheeling down the other side of the hill.”
“Because it was there.”
“Exactly.”
*
Rose stepped aside and let the Doctor climb the attic ladder first. If an alien waited in the spidery darkness, it could wait for the Doctor’s head to pop into view. She inadvertently laughed and the Doctor stopped in mid-climb.
“What?”
“Peaceful country village. Quiet. Nothing ever happens around here. Until, one day, James Bond and Miss Moneypenny arrive. They are in town long enough to down a cuppa, and all hell breaks loose.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen that film.”
“Yeah. That was the one with Stan Laurel as James Bond and Oliver Hardy as the villain.”
“Nothing up here, my dear Watson.”
“I’m flabbergasted, Holmes. No deductions?”
“You recently sunbathed on prehistoric Skaro. Clearly you have a predilection for chips, and are soon to travel through time with a tall dark stranger. Other than that, I know nothing about you.”
“Hmph. I could have told you that. No clues up there?”
“Maybe our future selves couldn’t be bothered planting anything obvious this high in the building.”
“So much nothing to remember. I might choke.”
“We’ll start in the bathroom, and work through cupboards, closets, and bedrooms.”
“Leaving any unusual rooms to last. Could be a library worth checking.”
“Right you are, Watson.”
“I wonder who I’ll be next. Moneypenny. Goldilocks. Watson. Rose Tyler
“You’re far too wet and grumpy to be the Rose Tyler I know.”
“Not as half as grumpy as I’m going to be if you keep calling me grumpy.”
“As far as Snow White goes, I’d have to be Doc.”
Room by room they searched, not sure of what they’d find. The travellers argued over a scribble of dust on a dresser. Rose thought it was just a meaningless scribble of dust on the surface. The Doctor wasn’t convinced of the squiggle’s innocence. Rose left the room in a bit of a huff.
The house was cold. She had seen, from the chimneys, that it was coal-fired. The Doctor found her in the next room, sitting hunched by an empty grate. He smiled unconcernedly, and prodded around looking for clues marked CLUES. Which is what he’d have written, to make things easier.
“I say we go back in time and write clues marked CLUES. That would save us hassle.”
“If that were to save us hassle, we’d have put all the clues in a pile marked CLUES. At the front door. When we came in, we’d have seen them.”
“Well, we didn’t. Too easy. Clearly our future selves have gone into the past and made it harder for ourselves than our current selves would have liked. Here’s a newspaper. You could burn that in the grate. Wouldn’t thaw you out, though.”
“I just want to go back to the TARDIS and have a nice hot bath. And a kip. Then wake up and go for some chips. Salt and vinegar. Brown sauce. Maybe even the thrill of a monster-sized pickled onion thrown in for the hell of it.”
“Stop that talk. My mouth’s watering.”
“This paper’s not that old. And who pays for the electricity to be connected? I’d expect the big house to be fully electric by 1933, with a telephone and everything. But if the house has been empty for a decade, who pays the bills? Ooh, there’s a crossword. Someone’s filled in the answers.”
“My handwriting?”
“No.”
“Your handwriting?”
“No. The answers are in block capitals, anyway. Easier to disguise. Maybe it is my handwriting, and I’ve filled the blanks.”
“Any pattern to it?”
“No. Random. Written in blue ink. And black ink, too. There’s a clue left. Down. Illegitimacy. Ten letters. Starts with…”
“Bastardism.”
“Yeah, that would fit. Pen?”
“There you go. This wall looks interesting.”
“Doctor.”
“Hang on. I think that crack in the wall means something. Other than cracked plaster. Is that shape meant to represent an alien, or have I been staring at the cracks too long?”
“Doctor. The blue ink answers clash with the black ones. I’ve just filled the missing section in black. Bastardism conceals the word TARDIS.”
The Doctor whirled round from his meaningless bit of plaster and seized the paper from Rose.
“How could we have placed a clue like that in a newspaper?”
“It’s only a clue when the letters are written in different inks. BAS in blue. The final M in blue. And the remaining blanks I filled in with black. We have to find a copy of this newspaper, dated this year, on our way back to the past.”
“We might have to stop off and do that.”
“More investigation, for now. Before we start jumping to conclusions.”
“Of course. TARDIS. I see it. Could be coincidence. No it couldn’t. Well done, Rose. That wasn’t exactly handed to us on a plate.”
“Let’s see what else this house has to offer.”
“That cracked plaster, for example.”
“Clutching at straws? Skip it.”
There were no more clues upstairs. Downstairs, they decided to make straight for the kitchen. The Doctor went first. Rose stopped and watched him go. The hallway seemed endless. She wasn’t imagining things, or tired from the cold. There was a faint humming. A familiar sort of humming.
The Doctor took a minute to cross the hall. Rose watched him go. He turned, and, instead of waving back from that distance, simply nodded in her direction. She turned and studied the door at her back, then turned again to see the Doctor standing right beside her. The hallway was no longer endless.
“Rose? What’s wrong?”
“Doctor. I think that this building is larger on the inside than it is on the outside.”
“Nonsense.”
“The only clue we found so far was in the crossword puzzle. TARDIS. Does that make some kind of appalling sense to you? You took a whole minute to walk the length of this hall. I just watched you. But you’re still only a step in front of me.”
“Stick close. We might be trapped. Not by the aliens. I mean…trapped in a far worse way.”
