Doctor Who Page 3

  ‘What is that? What are you doing?’ the First Doctor was shouting. To him this must have been even more extraordinary. His ‘ship’ had been inviolate. ‘What is happening?’

  The look on the Captain’s face said he was sure the terrible spirit that was pursuing him was knocking on the door; that his sanctuary was about to be breached.

  There came another impact, then another, at the remaining cardinal points. So, wait a second, there’d been one on each of the four corners of the ship, right? A moment later, the Doctor’s suspicion was confirmed, as, impossibly, overriding every setting of the interior geography, the room around them lost its moorings and began to sway. It was as if … as if …

  The Doctor leapt across the rolling deck, grabbed the doors and flung them open. The freezing air rushed in, the suspended snow remaining stock still within it. The Doctor looked out, and found himself looking down on the tiny lights of Snowcap Base, where he had fought the Cybermen, and at the tiny shape of the First Doctor’s TARDIS beside it. His own TARDIS had indeed been lifted up into the air, and they were already dangling hundreds of feet above the ground. Those impacts, the swaying, might just have been the old girl’s direct way of letting him know what was going on. Or perhaps whatever this was really did have the power to invade his space like this.

  Beside the doorway was the end of a grimy metal clamp, blackened and ancient, attached to the corner of the TARDIS. He clambered up and looked around the ship. On each corner there was a similar clamp. He looked up. A cable attached the clamps to a vast spaceship of a very strange design. It was like an enormous stone castle, floating in the sky. If time hadn’t been halted, the guys down on Snowcap Base would have been wondering if this was the work of more Cybermen.

  As the Doctor watched, an iris opened in the base of the ship. The cable began to be retracted. They were being hauled in. This was, the Doctor thought, the story of his life. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

  He ducked back inside. The old man was clinging to the console, and still shouting in the direction the voice had come from. ‘Where are you taking us, hmm?’ There was silence. ‘Hello there?’ Beside him stood the Captain, clearly dumbfounded but doing his best to be brave.

  The Doctor closed the doors. ‘She’s hung up.’

  ‘Well,’ the First Doctor slapped his hands together. ‘Time we were off, then.’ He made to move around the console, reached out a hand, his fingers fidgeting … and found that what he was reaching for wasn’t there. ‘You’ve moved everything!’

  The Doctor reached the console and swiftly hit his own lift-off sequence. The ship began to wheeze and groan and … shut down with a clunk. ‘Can’t start the engines. Some kind of signal, blocking the command path.’

  ‘How could they possibly have the knowledge?’ asked the First Doctor.

  ‘They know our name.’

  With a clang from outside, the TARDIS ceased to sway. They had been placed back down on something solid. Doubtless the floor of the spaceship had sealed beneath them. They all turned to look at the doors. Whatever power could do this, thought the Doctor, might well have the knowledge to enter the ship without his permission.

  But this time, diplomatically almost, when the voice called it called from outside. ‘Exit your capsule. The Chamber of the Dead awaits you.’

  What to do? The Doctor looked to his other self. This time, the old man seemed willing to let him take the lead. The Doctor lowered his voice. ‘Obviously, we have one little advantage.’

  ‘What advantage?’ asked the First Doctor. ‘Whoever these creatures are, they know everything about us.’

  ‘Not everything. They don’t know there’s two of us.’ The First Doctor smiled impishly at that idea and patted him on the arm.

  The Doctor wasn’t sure he liked being touched by his other self. Apart from the awkward intimacy of it, Time Lords tended not to get touchy-feely with their previous incarnations. It just wasn’t done, because, in most circumstances, it would cause a shorting out of the time differential as the Blinovitch Limitation Effect came into play. In short: zap. Clearly, whatever had happened to time, it was shutting off that effect too. His earlier self should know that full well, he’d already had a lot of experience with … but then the Doctor noticed the First Doctor examining his glove where he’d patted the Doctor, and realised that actually the old boy had come to the right conclusion before he had. ‘If they think you’re out there talking to them,’ he continued, ‘they won’t think you’re also in here, getting the engines back on line.’

  The First Doctor considered for a moment, looking rather taken aback. ‘Of course,’ he admitted. ‘Very good. I should have thought of that.’

  ‘You will, Doctor. You will.’ The Doctor grinned; the old boy wanted to be in charge, of course. All the other selves he’d met had taken pity on the youth and let him, but he wouldn’t get his own way with this incarnation! He slammed down the security controls. ‘Field’s up.’

  The First Doctor nodded, adjusted his cravat and straightened his waistcoat. He was ready for action. The Captain looked awkwardly between them, a grateful expression on his face, as if he was feeling unworthy of all this protection.

  The Doctor watched his earlier self march towards the doors, clutching his lapels, and felt at once nostalgia for how brave he’d once been, and nervousness at how that bravery had in part been born of sheer ignorance. ‘Come on,’ he whispered to the Captain. ‘Let’s get to work.’

  The First Doctor had not been having a very good day. For one thing, he was desperately trying to hold his form, his very personality, together, against the great and terrible change he had worked so hard to avoid. That was taking a large portion of his mental powers. On top of that, he’d found himself dealing with that old fogey, his own personal, and very worrying, Ghost of Christmas Future. For Scrooge, that spectre had been the ghost of his own death. In his case it merely meant several things of which he very much disapproved, including nonsense, frippery, and seemingly not being in possession of a comb. Still, he was about to do what he did best. He was about to look something terrifying in the eye and indicate to it that he really didn’t think it was up to much. Not compared to him. Doing that would be just the tonic he needed at the moment.

  He stepped out of the wastrel’s TARDIS into an enormous chamber, carved, seemingly, from stone. It took the form of a cylinder, winding up above him to a vanishing point in the darkness. It was lined with alcoves, each about the size of a person, as if this were some sort of tomb. The TARDIS stood in its very centre, the four clamps still attached to it, the cable vanishing into the space above. The floor was an iris, which, having admitted them, was closed now.

  He appeared to be alone. The most prominent feature of the chamber was a stone staircase, of the sort that traditionally led to a throne, designed to put awe into everyday people. Hmm, then it was good that he was not so everyday! A bright light was shining from the top of that staircase. Obviously. As if this were some deity he was approaching, and he was not to observe the face of the god. Such theatre! He took a few paces forward, to the point he remembered from the design specifications of his own ship. He hoped that the old fogey had made what he was measuring out work correctly, like he’d fixed everything else.

  ‘Look around you,’ the calm female voice said. ‘You stand in the Chamber of the Dead. You are known to all here.’

  Now, that was more like it. He scraped a line on the floor with the heel of his shoe, describing a portion of an arc around the ship. ‘The TARDIS has a force field around it. It extends this far. I may cross, but you may not.’ Well, hopefully not with more than her projected voice, anyway. For all the First Doctor knew, this was sheer bluff, but sheer bluff was his second language. As he was about to demonstrate. ‘Any attempt to enter my ship will, I promise you, fail.’

  ‘Your caution is well advised.’

  Who did she think she was talking to? Well, obviously, she knew exactly who she was talking to, but even so … The F
irst Doctor held back his emotions and came out with a chuckle. ‘Oh, I’ve never liked that word.’

  ‘What word?’

  ‘Caution.’ With that, he completed the second part of the plan he had had in mind as he left the ship. He stepped across the line. ‘Please do not make the mistake of assuming I am in any way afraid of you. I am an old man. At my time of life, there is nothing left to fear, hmm?’

  Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor was working on the engines with both hands, up to his elbows in circuitry, while keeping one eye, via the monitor, on what the First Doctor was getting up to outside. ‘Oh,’ he whispered, ‘just you wait!’

  ‘We do not expect your fear,’ said the voice. ‘We know who you are.’

  ‘Yes, so you’ve been making clear.’ The First Doctor was waiting for the woman to become affronted by his impudence and reveal some information about herself. But that blasted calmness of hers was going to take some chipping away at.

  ‘The Bringer of Darkness. The Imp of the Pandorica. The Beast of Trenzalore.’

  Was it possible she actually did have him confused with someone else? ‘No, no, dear me, no. I am the Doctor.’

  ‘You are the Doctor of War.’

  Now he was certain she was making it up. Regeneration might cause him to become the elderly fop he had just met, a dandy or a clown or a schoolboy, but it would never befoul his essential nature. He began to chuckle. Madam, he thought to himself, you should never bluff an old bluffer.

  Inside the TARDIS, Archie had been watching the face of the Doctor with an increasing wariness. He had ceased his important work on his machine, work that Archie had realised was intimately connected with escaping their predicament and saving Archie’s own skin, in order to watch the amazing wireless pictures of what was transpiring outside. What that dratted woman was saying to the English Doctor seemed to be disquieting the Scottish one terribly. This man bore burdens, Archie realised, that he had seldom seen on mortal shoulders. But above all there was guilt. A guilt that had been fought off, bargained with, overcome, perhaps, but a guilt that sprung eternal. He had perhaps lost someone, very recently, Archie thought. This expression was one he had only previously seen on the faces of those that had seen death. And, he shuddered to think of it, on the faces of the dying.

  ‘The Doctor, yes,’ said the First Doctor, ‘but the “Doctor of War”?’ He rose to his full height, clutching his lapels in magnificent certainty. ‘Never, madam. Never.’

  ‘We will not fight the Doctor of War. Instead, we offer you a gift.’

  Ah, now this was more like it. Whether this reputation was deserved or not, it had bought him some respect, and, more importantly, it had bought the Doctor inside the TARDIS time. ‘What gift?’

  ‘Return to us the human on your TARDIS, and in exchange, you may speak with her again.’

  The First Doctor frowned. He had a tiny, profound hope in his heart, that perhaps, if it turned out this powerful being really did know who he was, beyond all this ‘war’ nonsense, then perhaps … perhaps she was referring to his granddaughter? They had had a much better second parting, in the end. He had had a few hours to meet her family. But, at this moment of all moments, to see her again, that would be a joy. ‘Speak with whom?’

  A beam of light shot out from one of the alcoves at floor level. The light formed into a tunnel, and down it moved a shadow. Someone was approaching down this corridor. The First Doctor steeled himself for disappointment. Then he saw the face of this stranger and felt it nevertheless, like a slow blade to his heart.

  Archie saw the Doctor leap up from the console. He stared at the monitor in shocked disbelief. The expression of loss on his face had suddenly been replaced with the most curious and frightening mixture of hope and … fury.

  Before Archie could say anything, all important tasks forgotten, and without a word, the Doctor ran for the doors.

  5

  Cats and Space Adventures

  Bill Potts had no idea how she’d gotten here. Nor did she know where ‘here’ was. Nor did she have a clue who the old man was in front of her. Grandpa was looking at her like she was an unwanted Christmas present. ‘Young lady,’ he said, in a voice made for selling life insurance to the over-fifties, ‘who are you?’

  And then she saw. Behind him, just standing there, was the amazing thing she’d first seen in a tutor’s office at university, the object which had turned out to be escape and adventure and horror and joy and life and death and then a bit more, thank God. The TARDIS. Which meant … ‘Is he here? Is the Doctor here?’ She realised she hadn’t remembered to breathe and solved that with a quick gulp of air. ‘Oh my God, is he alive?’

  Which was when the doors flew open and the Doctor ran out. And oh, the look on his face.

  ‘Doctor!’ she yelled. She ran to him, she ran to him without another thought in her head and she threw her arms around him. ‘I knew it! I did, I knew it! I knew you couldn’t stay dead, you don’t have the concentration.’ She was grinning up at him, waiting to get the normal rise out of him she’d come to love, the one that said Bill and the Doctor were back, that the whole universe was again theirs to explore. But that wasn’t the look he was giving her. He was, in fact, gently detaching himself from her. He was being deliberately distant and cold. Oh, don’t do this to me again, you idiot. ‘Doctor?’ He took his sonic screwdriver from his coat. ‘Doctor, what are you doing?’

  ‘Please,’ he said, and there was his voice, gentle and careful, ‘just keep still.’

  He scanned her with the screwdriver, running it up and down in front of her, listening to its changing tone. What the hell? Did he think she was infected or something? Oh, she got it now. And yeah, okay, this was something he’d probably learned to check for before he did the hugging, probably something that happened quite a lot, the alien duplicate thing. Like with those Zygon things he’d shown her in what he’d called his ‘intelligent species who are just a bit different from us’ book, but which had had ‘monster book’ on the cover. It was kind of irritating to be on the receiving end, though.

  ‘Doctor, stop that, it’s me.’

  Suddenly, the Doctor was looking at her. ‘Bill Potts.’ It was like her name hurt him just on its own. She realised why. The last time he’d seen her … ‘My friend Bill Potts was turned into a Cyberman. She gave her life to save a lot of people she barely knew. So let’s be clear: nobody imitates Bill Potts. Nobody mocks Bill Potts.’

  Which so made her want to cry, but no, she couldn’t have this, couldn’t let him feel this pain a moment longer. ‘Bill Potts is standing right in front of you.’

  ‘How? How is that even possible?’

  She let herself grin her biggest grin, the one she’d loved to show him when they’d faced down the horrors together. ‘Well … long story short, I totally pulled.’

  ‘You did what?’ said Grandpa.

  ‘Heather, do you remember? The girl in the puddle?’ Which was an offhand way to describe a living space-time craft, who was also a real, complete person, gorgeous and loving and … stuff. ‘She showed up, she came for me.’ It had been on the battlefield, with Cybermen falling all around. Bill herself had fallen, and that was the last time the Doctor would have seen her, seemingly dead, and not even dead as herself. But then Heather had appeared, from outside of space and time, and used her power to manipulate the construction of … everything. She had taken the information that was Bill, and had made her a new body, constructed of the same miracles that Heather was. They had returned the unconscious Doctor to his TARDIS, and left him there. It had been the best they could do; Heather had found the body of a Time Lord beyond her power to heal. And yet they’d both felt there had still been a spark of something in him, something that just needed time to rest. Then they’d left to explore. Was that why he was looking at her so coldly now? Should they have tried harder to find him, to check up on him?

  They’d had a look around the Milky Way, checked out everything Bill had ever wanted to see that the Doctor hadn’
t already shown her, and all that time Bill had been working Heather out, trying to figure out if this was a relationship, or just friends with serious benefits, or what. She’d asked, in the end, as they stood on the surface of Pluto, watching its moons set, if they could try Earth for a bit, if she could go back to being human, and if maybe Heather wanted to try it again too? Except not if it was a one-way deal, because she never wanted to give this up. Heather had said sure, they could give it a go. So they’d had Christmas, back being flesh and blood, going out clubbing, magicking up enough money to put down a deposit on a flat, staying up late to watch old movies. Bill had discovered, kind of at the same time Heather had, Heather as a real person. And she’d become a real person that she’d fallen in love with.

  But the Doctor had that terrible look on his face again. ‘She came to rescue you, did she?’

  ‘Yeah, she did.’

  ‘How romantic. Where is she?’

  Bill wanted to come out with a snappy comeback, but now she thought about it … she was certain, somehow, that she’d had her happy ending, that she and Heather had lived a long and really kind of exciting life together, with cats and space adventures, but how could that be true when here she was, not much older than when she’d left the Doctor? ‘Well, she’s … she’s …’ Everything after that first Christmas with Heather felt cloudy, like it hadn’t happened yet, but somehow she knew that it would. She didn’t feel like she had her special space powers, either. What the hell was going on here?

  ‘Come on, where is she? Where’s Heather, and how did you get here?’

  ‘I … I don’t … I can’t …’

  He checked the readings on his sonic screwdriver. ‘You can’t remember. No, I bet you can’t.’ He stalked around her, still scanning her.

  Meanwhile, Grandpa had wandered over, and was looking at them with one eyebrow as high as she’d ever seen an eyebrow go. ‘That device; what is it?’