Elvis is alive
written by audrey armstrong
"Termiosa!"
The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, guitar slung haphazardly over his shoulder and his sonic sunglasses perched on his face. Clara Oswald followed him out, into what appeared to be a giant concert venue. She could hear a loud rendition of 'Don't Stop Me Now' being played in the distance.
"A concert?" she deadpanned, "Doctor, I have a headache and a bad cold! I told you to take me somewhere relaxing, and your first thought is - a concert?!"
"Ah, but you see," said the Doctor, "Termiosa isn't just any old concert. It's an entire planet of concerts! This, right here" - he motioned to the large, spacious entrance hall that they were standing in - "is the music capital of the universe!"
Clara looked around at the room, noting several empty crisp bags and soda cans strewn across the floor, and the faded green, stone walls, partially chipped and crumbling. The floors didn't look like they hadn't been washed in centuries.
"Yes, well..." said the Doctor, noticing Clara's look of disapproval, "It has seen better days, of course...But the music is still as good! And - well, you’ll see. Come look!”
He began to run off in the direction the music was coming from. Clara hesitated.
“Promise me this is worth my time?”
“Of course! Now come on, come see!” He ushered Clara through a door.
She had stepped into a large, darkened room, filled with people - some appeared to not even be human. But the thing that captured her attention were the musicians up on stage.
The stage was illuminated, bringing full attention to the four men who stood behind their instruments belting out ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ - but it wasn’t some half-rate cover band, they were the actual members of Queen.
“But...that’s not possible! Doctor?”
She turned to find the Doctor standing by her side, smiling broadly.
“We are on an alien planet?” asked Clara
“Oh yes, of course.”
“Then how exactly is Queen here?”
The Doctor paused for effect. “They’re robots!”
Clara looked back at the band, as the song they were playing finished and the crowd cheered loudly. “They look very real to me.”
“Technology has progressed to a high degree in the future, Clara.” The Doctor grinned at the band. “These robots, and all like them, are exact down to the last detail!”
“But why?” asked Clara, “Why were they made?”
“Haven’t you ever wanted to go to a Queen concert?” asked the Doctor.
Clara snorted. “No.” The Doctor stared at her over his sunglasses, unconvinced. Clara maintained her posture for a few seconds, before shuffling uncomfortably. “Okay, yeah, maybe a little,”
The Doctor kept staring. “Okay, yes, I would absolutely love to go to a Queen concert” Clara exclaimed, finally folding, “But why here? Why on an entirely different planet?”
“People felt nostalgic for music back on Earth,” the Doctor, “so they created these robots. Trouble is, when you attempt to recreate every vaguely popular artist in the history of Earth’s music, it gets a little crowded. Hence this place!”
“Hang on, every single artist?”
“Oh yes.” The Doctor’s eyes twinkled. “Every single one. Ever wanted to see the Beatles all play together live? Or have you ever had a hankering to get drunk while listening to Florence Welch perform? Ever been out of your mind and decided you want to see Zayn perform Pillowtalk live? Termiosa is where it all happens!”
Clara smiled excitedly. This really was worth the trip. If only her pounding headache would stop, then she could fully enjoy the music.
As of now, the loud surroundings weren’t very enjoyable for someone with a cold and migraine.
“Oh yes, that’s right - you’re sick!” the Doctor frowned, taking notice of Clara rubbing her forehead and groaning.
“Oh good, you’ve finally realized.” The trace of sarcasm was evident in Clara’s voice.
“Well, if you want, we can go visit the market stalls! I’m sure they’ll have something to treat your sniffles!”
“Market stalls?” repeated Clara dubiously, as the Doctor spun on his heels.
“This place runs 39 hours a day, 8 days a week! Some people spend a week here on holiday! There’s lots of places to buy things, otherwise people would get terribly bored…”
The Doctor strode away, but Clara stayed behind. Partially because, as she now noticed, ABBA was coming on stage, to much applause and cheering. But there was something else she noticed, which didn’t feel right. Among the crowd, she had spotted what appeared to be a man made entirely of gold.
*
“Clara? Clara!” The Doctor looked everywhere, but Clara was nowhere to be found. Typical. She had run off again.
Still, no matter, she could look after herself. The Doctor wasn’t worried.
What he was worried about was the group of gold aliens in leather jackets.
*
Clara followed the alien through the adoring crowds. ABBA was playing ‘Mamma Mia’, and fans were dancing and singing along. It made keeping pace with the alien rather difficult, and Clara wasn’t quite looking where she was going - she ran face first into someone and fell backwards onto the ground.
“Are you alright?” the man asked, bending down to help her up.
“Yeah...yeah,” Clara murmured, accepting his hand, “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going…”
“Don’t worry.” The man grinned sheepishly, “Neither was I, to be honest!”
Clara looked at him curiously.
“Something the matter?” the man asked.
Slicked back hair...white jumpsuit...Clara knew exactly who this was.
“Elvis!” she gasped excitedly, gripping his hand a bit too tightly. “You’re Elvis Presley!”
Elvis smiled warmly, “Yes, I suppose I am!”
Clara stepped back cautiously for a moment. “Hang on,” she pursed her lips, “You’re a robot, aren’t you?”
“I assure you I’m not!” laughed Elvis, “I’m the real thing! Those are robots up there!”
He pointed the the members of ABBA, now performing ‘Dancing Queen’.
“I’m sorry?” Clara stared at him.
“I’m human! One hundred per cent.”
“No, no,” Clara laughed incredulously, stepping forwards. “You can’t be.”
“I am,” Elvis persisted.
“But we’re on another planet!” Clara pointed at a nearby alien to support her point. “You’re from Earth, unless - wait a minute. Are all the conspiracy theories true? Were you actually abducted by aliens?”
Elvis laughed again.
“Maybe I was! But I don’t remember. One moment I was home on Earth, and the next, I was here! I don’t even know how long I’ve been on this planet either!”
Clara was skeptical. It was a real possibility that Elvis had been programmed to say all this. And he had now distracted from her main mission - to track down that mysterious gold alien, which was nowhere to be found now.
“I don’t know your name!” Elvis reminded her, snapping Clara out of her ruminations.
“Oh, I’m Clara. Clara Oswald.”
“Nice to meet you, Clara Oswald,” smiled the singer, “But may I ask - where were you going in such a hurry?”
“Hmm? Oh!” Clara had been looking around to see where the alien had possibly went, “I was...looking for a friend.”
“Were you now?”
“Yeah.” Clara smiled sheepishly.
“What did they look like?”
“Humanoid,” described Clara, “But completely...gold coloured. And wearing a leather jacket.”
There was a moment of recognition on Elvis’ face.
“I’ve seen them too!” he said. “I think they’re some kind of security guards…”
“Them?” asked Clara, “You mean there’s more than one?”
“There’s several!” Elvis furrowed his brow. “Hey, shouldn’t you already know this?”
“...Um...”
ABBA was leaving the stage now, bowing as they finished performing ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’, and a new group was taking their place. Clara didn’t register who it was though - because, as she looked in the stage’s direction, she spotted another gold alien.
“There!” said Clara, immediately running in the right direction.
“Why not just call out to them?”
Clara turned to see Elvis by her side, matching her at a brisk pace. She frowned in confusion. “Sorry?”
“Why don’t you call for them?” Elvis repeated. “I could do it for you. H ‒”
“No!” Clara hissed. “Keep your voice down, they don’t know me!”
Elvis shot her a strange look. “You said they were your friends.”
“Did I?” Clara scowled at Elvis’ scrutinising gaze. She stopped him. “Look, I’m naturally a fantastic liar, I’d even go as far as to say I’m phenomenal. But today, I have a headache and a cold and I’m standing right next to Elvis bloody Presley. Cut me some slack here!”
“So, they’re not friends?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t understand though,” Elvis huffed as he matched her steps, “Why are you following them?”
“I have a hunch.”
“And are your hunches usually right?” Elvis lightly mocked.
“Usually,” Clara confirmed with pride.
Elvis shrugged. “You win then.”
The alien was heading away from them, and through a door. Clara and Elvis managed to catch
up, slipping through it themselves, leaving behind the raucous crowds.
They didn’t hear the screams...
*
The Doctor peered around the corner of the wall he was hiding behind. He wasn’t sure why the Axons were in Termiosa - but he was fairly certain it wasn’t for their personal enjoyment of the music.
A group of the gold-skinned creatures were standing a distance away, talking amongst themselves. The Doctor pondered as to what he should do. Obviously, he couldn’t go right up to them and get them to tell him all their plans to him. But sitting here watching them talk without knowing what they were saying was equally unreasonable.
Which meant that the best course of action was, in fact, to go right up to them and get them to tell him all his plans. Probably. Still likely a bad idea. Might as well give it a shot, though.
“You!” he called. “You there! Axons!” The Doctor popped out from behind his wall, and the Axons all turned to look at him. “Oh, good. Hello! I’m the Doctor. We’ve met before, I believe!”
The Axons didn’t respond. Instead, they stared at him blankly with their cold, pupil-less eyes.
“Well, anyway, nice to meet you again! Tell me why you’re here and what your plans are.”
“Kill him,” said one of the Axons.
“Ah, yes, well,” said the Doctor, as three Axons began to slowly back him against the wall, “I don’t have any plans to die today, so if you’ll excuse me…”
The Doctor bolted.
“After him!” yelled the Axon.
*
“Where did it go?”
“I don’t know…”
Clara and Elvis had entered another concert venue, slightly smaller than the last one but still packed with loud, adoring fans. The music, which as of now was being played by robot versions of the Bangles, was equally loud. Clara felt her headache coming back strong.
“Are you alright?” asked Elvis, noticing as Clara rubbed her forehead in pain.
“No, I’ve got a bad headache,” she muttered, “And a bit of a cold too. Not feeling too great today.”
“Probably not a good idea to come to the largest concert in the universe, then,” laughed Elvis.
“I couldn’t control that,” Clara with disapproval in her voice, “That’s the Doctor’s fault, he’s the one who brought me here…”
“Who’s this Doctor then?” asked Elvis.
“He’s my friend,” Clara smiled. “ I travel with him through time and space, in his time machine called the TARDIS.” She registered Elvis’ facial expression, which showed only a slight amount of shock. “Do you believe me?”
“At the moment, I think I could believe anything,” said Elvis “This Doctor of yours then - could we find him?
“For all I know, he might know more about this alien than I do,” Clara shrugged, “Yeah, let’s.”
At which point, the Doctor ran right into them.
*
The Doctor had ran halfway across the building (and it was a very large building) to escape the Axons. By the time he had reached one of the many thousands of concert venues, he was sure to have lost them
Logically, they wouldn’t attack him inside one of the venues, with thousands of people there to witness it. No, the Axons were more meticulous than that. They invaded worlds by gaining the trust of the species there, before turning the entire planet into a literal space service station for their hive mind.
That was what he assumed they were doing now. All those people, all of them running on adrenaline...he had to admit, Termiosa was the perfect place to harvest for energy.
Charging through a door, he ran straight into Clara.
“Doctor!”
“Clara!” The Doctor recoiled in surprise. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“Is it anything to do with aliens who look like they’re made of gold?”
To Clara’s credit, the Doctor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and disbelief. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” she smirked.
“They’re Axos,” said the Doctor, “A multicellular parasitic organism that feasts on the energy resources of planets.”
“Well, that sounds great,” said Elvis sarcastically. The Doctor turned to look at him with a puzzled expression. He leaned into Clara.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Elvis Presley, of course.”
“Ah, yes. A robot.”
Clara turned to look at him. “He seems pretty real to me.”
“Remember what I told you Clara, they’re perfect down to the last detail.”
“He remembers being on Earth though!”
“False memories, probably implemented upon his creation.”
“I assure you, Doctor,” Elvis interrupted, who had been listening in, “I am not one of those robots.”
He motioned vaguely towards the stage, where the Doctor and Clara could see what appeared to be the Rolling Stones playing.
Clara laughed. “Amazing, isn’t it? 20,000 years or so into the future and the Rolling Stones are still touring.”
She looked at the Doctor, who didn’t laugh back. He looked cross
“Oh, come on,” she frowned, “That was funny!”
The Doctor hesitated, but eventually he cracked a bit of a smile. Clara giggled.
“Well, anyway,” said the Doctor, “We have an Axon problem on our hands. We need to deal with it. Are you up for it?”
“I think,” Clara deliberated, “Still got a bit of a headache, though.”
The Doctor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small bottle of greenish-blue liquid.
“What is it?” Clara asked curiously as she took it and studied it carefully. The bottle was clear plastic and there was a white lid sealing the contents.
“Headache medication,” said the Doctor. “Bought it from a cow. It’s the strongest stuff in the universe.”
Clara opened the lid and sniffed. “Smells awful,” she said, curling her nose.
Elvis, who had been feeling left out, spoke up once again.
“So, these Axons - how do we get rid of them?”
“I don’t know,” said the Doctor, as Clara downed a mouthful of medication.
She grimaced and wiped a smear from the corner of her lip. “Tastes awful, too…”
“Axons are like a sort of intergalactic household pest.” continued the Doctor, “They don’t always look that nice either - their true form is more like a heap of loose strands of flesh.”
Clara almost gagged. “Eurgh!”
“I know, pretty disgusting.”
“I was talking about this medication,”Clara clarified, “Y’know, I think my headache is completely gone already…”
“Ah! Good, then we can get down to business and find out what these Axons are up to.”
A loud cheer erupted from the audience. The Doctor, Clara, and Elvis turned to see Elton John coming on stage, accepting the crowd’s enthusiasm as he sat down behind his piano.
The cheers still raged as he played the first first few notes of ‘Crocodile Rock’.
“I remember when rock was young
Me and Suzie had so much fun…”
“Why here?” asked Clara.
“Hmm?”
“Why here, why are the Axons here?” repeated Clara.
“Like I said, Clara, they feast on the energy resources of planets. Now, if you were part of a parasitic consciousness, where would you go to feast on the energy of people?”
Clara thought.
“Termiosa,” she said.
“Exactly,” said the Doctor.
“Well Crocodile Rocking is something shocking,
When your feet just can't keep still,
I never knew me a better time and I guess I never will…”
“First things first,” the Doctor spoke, “We should find their main ship.”
“How about we take you to it?” a voice hissed.
The three of them turned in horror to find a group of four Axons standing behind them, wearing leather jackets.
“Brave choice with the leather jackets,” said the Doctor nonchalantly, “I suppose you’re just trying to fit in here? What are you - Hell’s Angels? Quite literally I suppose…”
“We are here to maintain security,” the Axon leader snarled.
“A likely story!” the Doctor scoffed, “You lot never go anywhere unless there’s something tasty to feed on!”
“La lalalala la lalalala la lalalala la…”
Clara frowned, and looked down at the stage. “That’s not right,”
The robot duplicate of Elton John was getting up. Still singing the same line, it moved towards the crowd.
“You are being a nuisance, Doctor,” said the Axon, “For the safety of all visitors at Termiosa, you must be removed.”
“Doctor! Something’s wrong!”
“Not now Clara! And you -” the Doctor jabbed a finger at the leader, “Will be a nuisance for the visitors too. For everyone’s safety, I must remove you!”
“Doctor, seriously. Look over here.”
“La lalalala la lalalala la lalalala la”
The robot moved among the crowd. It was stuck on the same line as the music too skipped. People in the crowd were getting confused.
“La lalalala la lalalala la lalalala la”
Then, as the robot approached a crowd member - a middle aged man in his forties, by Clara’s reckoning. It reached up and placed its hands around his neck. The man struggled and screamed, but the robot just motionlessly remained in that position.
Soon, though, he fell to the ground, dead. The excitement in the crowd turned to terror, as the robot Elton John rounded on more members. People rushed for the exit.
“Oh, that’s not good at all,” the Doctor breathed. He turned back to the Axons. “So! I’m the nuisance now? How about you control your robot army and stop them killing innocent people?”
“This was not part of the plan!” screamed the Axon leader. It watched in horror as Elton John murdered more people, still singing the chorus of ‘Crocodile Rock’. Everyone was rushing for the exit.
“So you admit you have a plan then!”
“Doctor, it’s coming this way, we have to move!” yelled Clara. She grasped his and Elvis’ hands, pulling them away from the Axons.
“After them!” screamed the Axon leader.
*
Clara, the Doctor, and Elvis rounded a corner. Everywhere was chaos. It wasn’t just the duplicates of Elton John going haywire. Clara spotted Billy Joel smashing people’s heads into his piano while singing ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’, and thousands rushed out of one venue, chased by a murderous David Bowie.
“What now?” asked Clara
“What I said before,” responded the Doctor, “We have to find the Axon ship. They’re behind all this, I just know it.”
“They said they this wasn’t part of the plan though, I heard them!” Elvis complained.
The Doctor turned, slowly, processing Elvis’ presence for perhaps the first time.
Clara noticed he looked angry. “Doctor, don’t -”
“Oh no,” said the Doctor, “You can’t stay with us. You’re a robot. And judging by the actions of the others, you might turn and kill us at any moment.”
“I am not a robot!” yelled Elvis.
“Oh yes you are!”
“Doctor -”
“Clara, can’t you see? If he’s a robot, he could kill us at any moment like the rest! He can’t stay!”
Clara sighed. “I’m sorry, Elvis…”
“It’s alright,” said Elvis bitterly, as he began to move away from them.
“Great.” The Doctor didn’t even break stride. “Now let’s go.”
He and Clara turned a corner - and found themselves facing a group of Axons.
“Capture them!” yelled the leader, “Alive!”
The Doctor and Clara tried to run - but two of the golden creatures grabbed them by the hands and waist and constricted any further movement. One forced the Doctor’s guitar away from him.
“You better be careful with that, it’s very special,” the Doctor warned, “It’s a very rare antique!”
“And get the other one that was with them too!” said the leader
“What?” said the Doctor in shock, “Oh, no, he’s not with us, I assure you -”
Try as he might, Elvis could not run from the Axons. They caught him and dragged him back to the Doctor and Clara.
“Hi again,” Clara tried to wave, before realising she couldn’t. She settled for a charming smile.
“Hi,” Elvis grunted with some difficulty. The Axon holding him was really very strong.
“Take them and lock them up,” commanded the Axon leader. “We will deal with them later.”
The group of them were then dragged away.
*
A door was swung rudely open and three figures - the Doctor, Clara Oswald, and a man who may or may not have been Elvis Presley - were thrown in. The Axons shut and locked the door.
The door in question harrumphed. It did not take kindly to being pushed about.
The Doctor was the first up from the floor, rushing over to the door. The Axons hadn’t confiscated his sonic sunglasses; so he produced it and scanned the door. The telltale buzz and bright green glow lit up the dark room.
Clara rubbed her head, feeling her headache resurfacing as she heaved herself off the floor. “Where are we?” she asked.
“In the Axon ship,” replied the Doctor, “That was all part of the plan, see. Get captured, they’ll take us to their ship.”
“This place looks more like a diner to me,” Clara noted.
The Doctor looked up from examining the door. The place they were in looked like a stereotypical American diner from the 1950s. Red tables and comfy looking chairs lined the left and right of the small area, and a small order bar ran from the doors to the middle of the room, with stools placed at the front and an oak door leading to a small kitchenette at the back.
Definitely not an Axon ship.
“Well, we’re close to it, I bet,” the Doctor shrugged. “Now if I can get this door open…Clara, come here.”
He dragged Clara over and stuffed the sonic sunglasses in her hands. Clara immediately put them on, and they both tried to sonic the door. They recoiled in surprise when it vibrated violently.
“Ah…” the Doctor trailed off awkwardly. “Sorry.”
“What?”
“The door. It’s sentient. Which means we’re close to the ship! That door is obviously part of Axos.”
Elvis moaned in pain on the ground.
The Doctor stared at him. “Go help him up.”
“I thought you didn’t like him,” teased Clara.
“I don’t,” the Doctor confirmed, “But he may be useful, if he’s a robot.”
“Which I’m not,” said Elvis, clambering up with Clara’s help.
The Doctor turned away from his examination of the door and regarded Elvis. “How did you come to be here, then? If you’re actually Elvis that is? Elvis, as far as I know, wasn’t abducted by aliens, no matter how many conspiracies people read.”
“You travel in time and space,” said Elvis, “How is it that you can’t believe I’m real?”
The Doctor paused and considered. “Fair point,” he said. “But we’re on Termiosa. There’s hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of robot musicians here - forgive me if I’m a little suspicious.”
“I understand that,” Elvis nodded, “But I assure you I want to help. Termiosa has become my home for a while now - I’d hate to see it destroyed. Imagine if your home was destroyed, Doctor - how would you feel then?”
The Doctor became quiet, pacing into a corner. Clara bit her lip, and looked down at the ground. “Yeah,” he finally muttered, “I know what that’s like. It’s not very...pleasant.” Then the Doctor went back to the door. “If I can trigger a local reversal of the neutron flow’s polarity, perhaps I can persuade the door to open for us. It doesn’t seem to like me at the moment…”
The door shivered as the Doctor ran a hand along it.
“Not very friendly, your Doctor, is he?” whispered Elvis to Clara.
“He can be,” Clara whispered back, “He can be really lovely once you get on his good side.”
Elvis drew up two chairs from behind the diners’ bar and offered one to Clara. She sat down.
“So, Elvis,” she began, “You seem really attached to Termiosa. Why is it that you don’t want to go home to Earth?”
Elvis thought. “I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps I am a robot!” They both laughed.
“I suppose,” continued Elvis, “Here is just filled with so music. I’ve always loved music, ever since I was a child, and here there’s an endless amount of it. Imagine spending every day of your life just listening to wonderful music. Nothing else, no stress, just music. I think that’s lovely.”
“But wouldn’t you get bored it?” asked Clara. “After all, there’s more to life than just music.”
“Perhaps,” said Elvis, “But music isn’t like that with me. It resonates with me, in my bones, in my mind. It’s peaceful. It calms me. It’s a thing of beauty.”
“What about your wife?”
Elvis smiled sadly. “Priscilla’s strong. She can manage without me. I know she can. Will you look out for her? For me?”
“Of course,” Clara nodded. “I promise.” She took a breath and looked around the bar. “Hey, you could start a band. The...Punk Rockers or something.” She cringed. “That was awful.”
Elvis stifled a laugh. “A band doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe not the name though.”
“Yeah, maybe not,” Clara agreed. “It’s probably for the best.”
“Yeah…” the two looked at each other, and laughed. Elvis sobered and leaned back in his chair, contemplative. “Maybe if we get out of here, we can fix this place up. Start afresh, kick out all the Axons and build new robots that don’t murder people. I think I like that idea.”
Clara looked over at the Doctor, who was still fiddling with the door.
“Maybe you can recruit him for your band,” she laughed, “He’s good at guitar.”
Elvis laughed along. “If he likes, though I somehow doubt that he will.”
The Doctor stopped his proceedings and glanced at them. “What are you two laughing about?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Clara shrugged, “Just trying to pass the time.”
“Well, I think I’ve figured out a way out of of here,”
“Oh?”
“Axos is a psychic creature. If I can maintain a psychic link with that door, I can perhaps persuade it to open for us…”
“You can maintain a psychic link with a door?” asked Clara doubtfully.
“I used to be able to do it,” said the Doctor, “Then I decided sonic screwdrivers were more fun.”
“I don’t understand,” Elvis frowned, “How is it that that door,” - he pointed at it - “Is part of this creature you call Axos, and the rest of this diner, well...isn’t?”
The Doctor looked startled. He suddenly felt very, very stupid. A moment of realization crossed his face
“Doctor?” asked Clara.
“Of course!” said the Doctor, “How could I forget that…”
“Forget what?”
“Axos. It’s not just a parasitic creature. It can also duplicate matter! Axonite!”
Elvis’s frown deepened. “What the hell is Axonite?”
“Yeah, Doctor, you’re going to have to explain,” Clara added.
“Pokemon!” the Doctor declared, pointing at her. “Think of Pokemon. More specifically, think of the mega stones.”
“Okay…”
“Good, now forget that. All they share in common are the similar names,” the Doctor continued. He shuffled closer. “Axonite is sentent. It thinks for itself. Imagine a thinking molecule. Any energy absorbed, it can recreate perfectly, as long as that energy exists in the first place.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this in the first place?” Elvis demanded crossly.
“Because I forgot,” the Doctor retorted. “I thought Axos was here only to absorb energy, and I was right, to a point…”
“What point?” Clara prompted when the Doctor lapsed into silence.
“The robots. They aren’t robots - they’re Axon duplicates. There may have been robots before, but once Axos came, this whole venue became an elaborate setup. All they want is to absorb energy, and what better way to do that than to lure lots and lots of people to a concert venue? It’s genius! Well, it’s also terrible, but also pretty genius.”
“Then why did they start killing people?” asked Clara.
“That...that I don’t know,” said the Doctor. “Axos is a hive mind, so unless they activated their duplicates to start killing people, they wouldn’t have…”
“But if they’re here to simply absorb lots of energy, why would they kill people?”
“Exactly,” the Doctor snapped his fingers at her, “But Axon duplicates can’t go rogue, at least, I haven’t experienced it before…”
“What about the door?” asked Elvis.
The Doctor turned towards Elvis, then back to the door. It was sighing softly.
“It means this whole place is made of Axonite,” the Doctor explained gravely, “Possibly the whole venue itself. Which means we didn’t need to look for the ship - we’ve been standing it it the whole time!” He let that revelation hang in the air as he knelt down beside the door, placing a hand gently to the frame. “Now, let’s get out of here.”
“So, they’re like Dream Crabs?” Clara compared. “They can create their own scenarios?”
“Not even remotely, now shush!”
The Doctor went quiet, his hand against the door. He closed his eyes, and Clara assumed he was mentally linked to the door itself.
The door tingled and sighed, then unlocked.
“Come on,” said the Doctor. Clara followed, motioning for Elvis to join them.
*
“How can this whole building be a part of of Axos?” asked the Doctor rhetorically. “It would be the easiest way for them to absorb energy! Once you’re running around inside it, they can leech off your adrenaline, your fear, your excitement - anything!”
“So, perfect for a concert hall, then?” Clara asked sarcastically.
“Exactly,” said the Doctor.
They turned a corner, and ducked to avoid a murderous Jeff Lynne.
“So, do you have a plan?” asked Elvis.
“Yes,” the Doctor nodded, “Last time I defeated them, I put them in a time loop. Probably not going to work as well this time - but as we found out in that cell, the door didn’t react well to sonic energy. If I can get right into the heart of the ship and blast it with a stronger signal, I could perhaps destroy it’s psychic links and cut off the energy receptors.”
“I have no idea what that means,”
“I means,” said the Doctor, “We need to go get my guitar back from the Axons!”
*
“How is sonic energy different from all the noise that the music generates?”
“Cause it comes from my sonic sunglasses,” replied the Doctor.
“Right,” said Elvis.
“Just accept it,” said Clara, “If he thinks it works, it probably will.”
“Clara, I want you to do something for me,” said the Doctor, stopping in the middle of a hall. Clara could see a robot (or a duplicate, she supposed) at the end of the hall.
“Doctor…”
“Yes, I know. Keep the sunglasses.”
“What do I have to do with them?” Clara asked, calmly regarding the threat.
“Find the centre of the Axon ship,” the Doctor order, “Here, I’ll set the function for you”
The sunglasses made a funny sound as Elvis noted the duplicate (one in the form of Buddy Holly), was slowly advancing towards them.
The Doctor handed Clara the sunglasses. “You know what to do?”
There was no hesitation. “Yes.” She turned to the musician. “Elvis? You with me?”
“Uh, yeah,” Elvis murmured. Clara nodded and rushed off down the corridor, Elvis on her heels.
“Just like that?” asked Elvis.
“Just like what?”
“The Doctor just asked you to do something incredibly dangerous and you accept it just like that?”
“He knows what he’s doing, the Doctor. I’m confident.”
“But what if he’s not, Clara? What if one day he doesn’t know what he’s doing? What then?”
“It’s not like that. We always win, me and him. Same old, same old.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“It’s not like that -”
“What happens if you don’t?” Elvis persisted.
Clara didn’t even stop to think. “I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Elvis was clearly disturbed. Clara just shrugged it off and ran off. He could do nothing but follow.
*
“Ah! Hello, Buddy Holly!”
The duplicate stared the Doctor in the face.
“I have one request of you!” he continued, “Take me to your leader!”
He put his hands up in surrender. The duplicate looked curiously at him, then advanced anyway.
“Wait. No, you’re not supposed to do that!”
The duplicate was getting closer.
“Right, uh, this wasn’t how I expected things to go.”
The duplicate had his hands around the Doctor’s neck.
“Why have the Axons made you do this?” said the Doctor desperately. The duplicate stopped and stared more.
Finally, after a silence he said: “The Axons are our enemies.”
The Doctor looked puzzled.
“But - you’re an Axon duplicate. You’re part of Axos!”
“The Axons are our enemies.”
“That makes no sense, it just doesn’t, I - no, wait.”
A thought occurred to the Doctor. A most brilliant thought indeed.
*
“I think this is it.”
Clara ushered a hesitant Elvis down a flight of crooked stairs into a tunnel. At first, Clara couldn’t see anything beyond the veil of darkness that shrouded the tunnel, but she soon noted the pulsing yellow glow.
“Definitely the place.” Clara reached into her jacket to find the sunglasses. “Now where’s the centre, or whatever it is…”
“I have a question for you, Clara” said Elvis.
“Fire away.”
“Am I remembered, in the future?”
Clara paused her search.
“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so. I mean, if you’re a robot or an Axon duplicate or whatever, obviously you were remembered!” She laughed a little to herself, then frowned.
“I just seems weird to me,” said Elvis. “To be remembered, even after death. Or after being abducted by aliens, I suppose. Music just goes on, doesn’t it? Like a memory.”
“Memories can be forgotten too,” said Clara, without thinking. “Sorry. That was rude of me.”
“No, no, it’s alright,” smiled Elvis. “I get what you’re saying. Even so - I remember songs more than I remember what I did yesterday!”
“Ah, I think it’s here!” said Clara, not quite listening to Elvis. She reached her hand beyond a crevasse in the wall. “I think that’s the Axon nerve centre…”
“Well, I don’t know what an Axon nerve centre looks like, so I’ll just take your word for it.”
“I don’t know either,” said Clara.
“Then how do you know this is the nerve centre?”
“I have a...hunch.”
“Is this another one of your famous hunches?”
“Oh, shut up,” laughed Clara.
There was a hiss behind them.
Clara paused. “Did anyone follow us?”
“I don’t think so.”
They turned around. Standing behind them were duplicates of Elton John and Britney Spears.
“Ah,” said Clara, “That’s not good.”
The duplicates approached.
“Ah. So much for that.”
“For what?” Elvis asked nervously.
“I really thought Britney Spears was hot when I was younger, but right now I think I’m a little turned off…”
*
Well. That wasn’t easy. There was an Axon guarding the confiscated guitar, but after leading the Buddy Holly duplicate into a fist fight with him, the Doctor had made off it.
The Axos plans were deteriorating. They had retreated to the main area of their ship, preparing to escape and leave the planet in chaos. Everything had gone horribly wrong for them, and the Doctor was about to deal the last fatal blow.
His only worry was Clara. But he trusted her.
“Ah! There you are, Axons! We’ve met earlier!” The Doctor called.
The gold creatures turned and looked at the him, standing in their main control room, with their blank stares. He was standing not far apart, guitar in hand.
“Kill him!” yelled the Axon leader.
“No, no, wait!” the Doctor raised his hands placatingly, “Hear me out! I want to tell you something!”
They stared at him some more. “What is it?”
“Music,” said the Doctor.
*
Meanwhile, Clara and Elvis were backed up against the wall, the duplicates of Elton John and Britney Spears. The sonic sunglasses were lying a distance away, out of reach.
*
“Music!” the Doctor shouted, “It’s the stuff that dreams are made of. And you, Axos - you’ve taken it for granted. You think you can just swagger in here and use it for your own gain? Well, I’m not going to let that happen.”
*
Clara kicked. The Britney Spears duplicate had her hands around her neck.
“Music has power,” the Doctor continued, “Have you ever been to a hospital and witnessed those suffering from dementia? I bet you haven’t. Because even when they have lost all their capabilities as a person, for some of them, music still gives them joy. You can see it in their faces! That’s the kind of power music has. The ability to bring back memories.”
“Look! Over there!” The duplicate turned, and Clara struck it in the back while it wasn’t looking.
Elvis punched Elton John in the face and rushed over to Clara, who was scrambling for the sunglasses.
*
“You want to know why your duplicates rebelled?” asked the Doctor. “Because you gave them memories. Memories of their time playing music on Earth. They were never there, but they remember, and they remember being creative. You’ve created artists, Axons. And artists need to create. You’ve stuck them here, singing the same old songs over and over again - and they’re bored. That’s why they started killing people!”
Clara shoved the sunglasses into the crevasse of the Axonite ship as the two duplicates began another advance.
“And now I’ve given music another power, Axos,” the Doctor raised his voice triumphantly. “The power to defeat you!”
He strummed the guitar loudly - the sonic sound echoing out of the sunglasses and straight into Axos itself.
The gold creatures faltered. They stumbled back, shifting their appearance. Gone were the beautiful, angelic, humanoid creatures; all that was left were heaps of fleshy tendrils in their place.
They screamed.
The two duplicates chasing Elvis and Clara collapsed in a heap, and the tunnel they were in began to vibrate.
“Come on!” said Elvis, “Let’s get out of here!”
They ran. Clara grabbed the sonic sunglasses just as the wall exploded. They were thrown to the ground as they rushed up the stairs.
The whole place collapsed in on itself.
Clara barely got to her feet before the Doctor wrapped his arms around her and enveloped her in a crushing hug, spinning her in the air.
“Are you alright?” he asked in concern as he set her down. “No broken bones?”
“With a hug like that, there very well could be,” Clara teased. The smile turned sincere when she noticed the Doctor’s conflicted expression. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” The Doctor grinned, and Clara grinned back.
Elvis got up too. “We did it then?” he asked.
“Yep,” said the Doctor, “No more Axos. Now you are all free to play whatever music you choose. Go and be creative with it! Termiosa isn’t the music capital of the universe for nothing.”
“So, that just happened?” Elvis looked puzzled. “We just saved the world?”
Clara folded her arms and grinned at him. “Yeah, we did. Same old, same old, right Doctor?”
“Indeed.” For the first time since they met, the Doctor smiled at Elvis.
*
“What do I do with all the duplicates, though? They’re all unconscious. And there’s a bunch of dead audience members too…”
“I don’t think many people will be coming to Termiosa for a while,” said the Doctor. They were inside the TARDIS, which was humming softly. Elvis had reacted pretty well to it being bigger on the inside, but, considering the past twenty-four hours, maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched.
“This is your chance to start again,” said the Doctor. “Begin anew. Create actual robots! Termiosa can and will go on. Music will never be forgotten.”
He smiled again. Elvis smiled back.
“Memories can be forgotten,” Elvis intoned, looking straight at Clara, who rolled her eyes.
“Not always,” she sighed, laughing.
“No,” smiled Elvis, “I have lots of memories I haven’t forgotten. But a song is a kind of memory, I guess. Maybe some memories become songs?”
“Maybe.” the Doctor looked thoughtful. “Maybe…”
Elvis gave Clara a hug and, after one last glance around, left the TARDIS.
Clara smiled and turned to the Doctor. “Admit it,” she said, “You liked him.”
The Doctor didn’t respond. He merely operated the TARDIS lever, dematerializing it right in front of Elvis’ surprised face. He could see him laughing to himself on the scanner.
“So!” said Clara, “What was he?”
“What was he what?”
“An Axon, or a robot?” asked Clara, “Or the real deal?”
“Well, he obviously had memories implanted of his time on Earth,” said the Doctor, “But then he didn’t seem to be among the other duplicates, killing people. I’d say he was just a robot.”
“But you don’t know, do you?” Clara teased, “He could be actually Elvis, abducted by aliens, couldn’t he? All the conspiracy theories would be true…”
The Doctor smiled to himself. “Let’s say he was both then. A robot and the real thing. Like a kind of...hybrid.”
His voice sounded ominous as he pronounced the word, and his face grew contemplative once more.
Clara frowned. “Why do you do that?”
The Doctor looked at her in confusion. “Do what?”
“That,” Clara gestured wildly with her hand. “You always say that, and then you just pause.”
“Maybe I just like to do it for dramatic effect,” the Doctor retorted, defensively crossing his arms.
“Oh, yeah?” Clara grinned.
“Yeah!” He sniffed, and grabbed the new pair of sonic sunglasses that the TARDIS supplied him with.
Clara ran over and hugged him by the arm, dropping the subject. “Come on then, where to?”
“Wherever you like, Miss Oswald.” The Doctor looked at her expectantly. “Though, if you’re looking for a helping hand, I suggest 1651.”
Clara pulled away from his arm and stared at him with her big, brown eyes. “You said I could pick!”
“You are picking! I’m just...nudging you.”
Clara sighed. “Well I think I ought to go take the Year 7s to taekwondo. How about later?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He pulled the lever, and the TARDIS’s familiar wheezing, groaning noise filled the console room as it began to dematerialize.
The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, guitar slung haphazardly over his shoulder and his sonic sunglasses perched on his face. Clara Oswald followed him out, into what appeared to be a giant concert venue. She could hear a loud rendition of 'Don't Stop Me Now' being played in the distance.
"A concert?" she deadpanned, "Doctor, I have a headache and a bad cold! I told you to take me somewhere relaxing, and your first thought is - a concert?!"
"Ah, but you see," said the Doctor, "Termiosa isn't just any old concert. It's an entire planet of concerts! This, right here" - he motioned to the large, spacious entrance hall that they were standing in - "is the music capital of the universe!"
Clara looked around at the room, noting several empty crisp bags and soda cans strewn across the floor, and the faded green, stone walls, partially chipped and crumbling. The floors didn't look like they hadn't been washed in centuries.
"Yes, well..." said the Doctor, noticing Clara's look of disapproval, "It has seen better days, of course...But the music is still as good! And - well, you’ll see. Come look!”
He began to run off in the direction the music was coming from. Clara hesitated.
“Promise me this is worth my time?”
“Of course! Now come on, come see!” He ushered Clara through a door.
She had stepped into a large, darkened room, filled with people - some appeared to not even be human. But the thing that captured her attention were the musicians up on stage.
The stage was illuminated, bringing full attention to the four men who stood behind their instruments belting out ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ - but it wasn’t some half-rate cover band, they were the actual members of Queen.
“But...that’s not possible! Doctor?”
She turned to find the Doctor standing by her side, smiling broadly.
“We are on an alien planet?” asked Clara
“Oh yes, of course.”
“Then how exactly is Queen here?”
The Doctor paused for effect. “They’re robots!”
Clara looked back at the band, as the song they were playing finished and the crowd cheered loudly. “They look very real to me.”
“Technology has progressed to a high degree in the future, Clara.” The Doctor grinned at the band. “These robots, and all like them, are exact down to the last detail!”
“But why?” asked Clara, “Why were they made?”
“Haven’t you ever wanted to go to a Queen concert?” asked the Doctor.
Clara snorted. “No.” The Doctor stared at her over his sunglasses, unconvinced. Clara maintained her posture for a few seconds, before shuffling uncomfortably. “Okay, yeah, maybe a little,”
The Doctor kept staring. “Okay, yes, I would absolutely love to go to a Queen concert” Clara exclaimed, finally folding, “But why here? Why on an entirely different planet?”
“People felt nostalgic for music back on Earth,” the Doctor, “so they created these robots. Trouble is, when you attempt to recreate every vaguely popular artist in the history of Earth’s music, it gets a little crowded. Hence this place!”
“Hang on, every single artist?”
“Oh yes.” The Doctor’s eyes twinkled. “Every single one. Ever wanted to see the Beatles all play together live? Or have you ever had a hankering to get drunk while listening to Florence Welch perform? Ever been out of your mind and decided you want to see Zayn perform Pillowtalk live? Termiosa is where it all happens!”
Clara smiled excitedly. This really was worth the trip. If only her pounding headache would stop, then she could fully enjoy the music.
As of now, the loud surroundings weren’t very enjoyable for someone with a cold and migraine.
“Oh yes, that’s right - you’re sick!” the Doctor frowned, taking notice of Clara rubbing her forehead and groaning.
“Oh good, you’ve finally realized.” The trace of sarcasm was evident in Clara’s voice.
“Well, if you want, we can go visit the market stalls! I’m sure they’ll have something to treat your sniffles!”
“Market stalls?” repeated Clara dubiously, as the Doctor spun on his heels.
“This place runs 39 hours a day, 8 days a week! Some people spend a week here on holiday! There’s lots of places to buy things, otherwise people would get terribly bored…”
The Doctor strode away, but Clara stayed behind. Partially because, as she now noticed, ABBA was coming on stage, to much applause and cheering. But there was something else she noticed, which didn’t feel right. Among the crowd, she had spotted what appeared to be a man made entirely of gold.
*
“Clara? Clara!” The Doctor looked everywhere, but Clara was nowhere to be found. Typical. She had run off again.
Still, no matter, she could look after herself. The Doctor wasn’t worried.
What he was worried about was the group of gold aliens in leather jackets.
*
Clara followed the alien through the adoring crowds. ABBA was playing ‘Mamma Mia’, and fans were dancing and singing along. It made keeping pace with the alien rather difficult, and Clara wasn’t quite looking where she was going - she ran face first into someone and fell backwards onto the ground.
“Are you alright?” the man asked, bending down to help her up.
“Yeah...yeah,” Clara murmured, accepting his hand, “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going…”
“Don’t worry.” The man grinned sheepishly, “Neither was I, to be honest!”
Clara looked at him curiously.
“Something the matter?” the man asked.
Slicked back hair...white jumpsuit...Clara knew exactly who this was.
“Elvis!” she gasped excitedly, gripping his hand a bit too tightly. “You’re Elvis Presley!”
Elvis smiled warmly, “Yes, I suppose I am!”
Clara stepped back cautiously for a moment. “Hang on,” she pursed her lips, “You’re a robot, aren’t you?”
“I assure you I’m not!” laughed Elvis, “I’m the real thing! Those are robots up there!”
He pointed the the members of ABBA, now performing ‘Dancing Queen’.
“I’m sorry?” Clara stared at him.
“I’m human! One hundred per cent.”
“No, no,” Clara laughed incredulously, stepping forwards. “You can’t be.”
“I am,” Elvis persisted.
“But we’re on another planet!” Clara pointed at a nearby alien to support her point. “You’re from Earth, unless - wait a minute. Are all the conspiracy theories true? Were you actually abducted by aliens?”
Elvis laughed again.
“Maybe I was! But I don’t remember. One moment I was home on Earth, and the next, I was here! I don’t even know how long I’ve been on this planet either!”
Clara was skeptical. It was a real possibility that Elvis had been programmed to say all this. And he had now distracted from her main mission - to track down that mysterious gold alien, which was nowhere to be found now.
“I don’t know your name!” Elvis reminded her, snapping Clara out of her ruminations.
“Oh, I’m Clara. Clara Oswald.”
“Nice to meet you, Clara Oswald,” smiled the singer, “But may I ask - where were you going in such a hurry?”
“Hmm? Oh!” Clara had been looking around to see where the alien had possibly went, “I was...looking for a friend.”
“Were you now?”
“Yeah.” Clara smiled sheepishly.
“What did they look like?”
“Humanoid,” described Clara, “But completely...gold coloured. And wearing a leather jacket.”
There was a moment of recognition on Elvis’ face.
“I’ve seen them too!” he said. “I think they’re some kind of security guards…”
“Them?” asked Clara, “You mean there’s more than one?”
“There’s several!” Elvis furrowed his brow. “Hey, shouldn’t you already know this?”
“...Um...”
ABBA was leaving the stage now, bowing as they finished performing ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’, and a new group was taking their place. Clara didn’t register who it was though - because, as she looked in the stage’s direction, she spotted another gold alien.
“There!” said Clara, immediately running in the right direction.
“Why not just call out to them?”
Clara turned to see Elvis by her side, matching her at a brisk pace. She frowned in confusion. “Sorry?”
“Why don’t you call for them?” Elvis repeated. “I could do it for you. H ‒”
“No!” Clara hissed. “Keep your voice down, they don’t know me!”
Elvis shot her a strange look. “You said they were your friends.”
“Did I?” Clara scowled at Elvis’ scrutinising gaze. She stopped him. “Look, I’m naturally a fantastic liar, I’d even go as far as to say I’m phenomenal. But today, I have a headache and a cold and I’m standing right next to Elvis bloody Presley. Cut me some slack here!”
“So, they’re not friends?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t understand though,” Elvis huffed as he matched her steps, “Why are you following them?”
“I have a hunch.”
“And are your hunches usually right?” Elvis lightly mocked.
“Usually,” Clara confirmed with pride.
Elvis shrugged. “You win then.”
The alien was heading away from them, and through a door. Clara and Elvis managed to catch
up, slipping through it themselves, leaving behind the raucous crowds.
They didn’t hear the screams...
*
The Doctor peered around the corner of the wall he was hiding behind. He wasn’t sure why the Axons were in Termiosa - but he was fairly certain it wasn’t for their personal enjoyment of the music.
A group of the gold-skinned creatures were standing a distance away, talking amongst themselves. The Doctor pondered as to what he should do. Obviously, he couldn’t go right up to them and get them to tell him all their plans to him. But sitting here watching them talk without knowing what they were saying was equally unreasonable.
Which meant that the best course of action was, in fact, to go right up to them and get them to tell him all his plans. Probably. Still likely a bad idea. Might as well give it a shot, though.
“You!” he called. “You there! Axons!” The Doctor popped out from behind his wall, and the Axons all turned to look at him. “Oh, good. Hello! I’m the Doctor. We’ve met before, I believe!”
The Axons didn’t respond. Instead, they stared at him blankly with their cold, pupil-less eyes.
“Well, anyway, nice to meet you again! Tell me why you’re here and what your plans are.”
“Kill him,” said one of the Axons.
“Ah, yes, well,” said the Doctor, as three Axons began to slowly back him against the wall, “I don’t have any plans to die today, so if you’ll excuse me…”
The Doctor bolted.
“After him!” yelled the Axon.
*
“Where did it go?”
“I don’t know…”
Clara and Elvis had entered another concert venue, slightly smaller than the last one but still packed with loud, adoring fans. The music, which as of now was being played by robot versions of the Bangles, was equally loud. Clara felt her headache coming back strong.
“Are you alright?” asked Elvis, noticing as Clara rubbed her forehead in pain.
“No, I’ve got a bad headache,” she muttered, “And a bit of a cold too. Not feeling too great today.”
“Probably not a good idea to come to the largest concert in the universe, then,” laughed Elvis.
“I couldn’t control that,” Clara with disapproval in her voice, “That’s the Doctor’s fault, he’s the one who brought me here…”
“Who’s this Doctor then?” asked Elvis.
“He’s my friend,” Clara smiled. “ I travel with him through time and space, in his time machine called the TARDIS.” She registered Elvis’ facial expression, which showed only a slight amount of shock. “Do you believe me?”
“At the moment, I think I could believe anything,” said Elvis “This Doctor of yours then - could we find him?
“For all I know, he might know more about this alien than I do,” Clara shrugged, “Yeah, let’s.”
At which point, the Doctor ran right into them.
*
The Doctor had ran halfway across the building (and it was a very large building) to escape the Axons. By the time he had reached one of the many thousands of concert venues, he was sure to have lost them
Logically, they wouldn’t attack him inside one of the venues, with thousands of people there to witness it. No, the Axons were more meticulous than that. They invaded worlds by gaining the trust of the species there, before turning the entire planet into a literal space service station for their hive mind.
That was what he assumed they were doing now. All those people, all of them running on adrenaline...he had to admit, Termiosa was the perfect place to harvest for energy.
Charging through a door, he ran straight into Clara.
“Doctor!”
“Clara!” The Doctor recoiled in surprise. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“Is it anything to do with aliens who look like they’re made of gold?”
To Clara’s credit, the Doctor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and disbelief. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” she smirked.
“They’re Axos,” said the Doctor, “A multicellular parasitic organism that feasts on the energy resources of planets.”
“Well, that sounds great,” said Elvis sarcastically. The Doctor turned to look at him with a puzzled expression. He leaned into Clara.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Elvis Presley, of course.”
“Ah, yes. A robot.”
Clara turned to look at him. “He seems pretty real to me.”
“Remember what I told you Clara, they’re perfect down to the last detail.”
“He remembers being on Earth though!”
“False memories, probably implemented upon his creation.”
“I assure you, Doctor,” Elvis interrupted, who had been listening in, “I am not one of those robots.”
He motioned vaguely towards the stage, where the Doctor and Clara could see what appeared to be the Rolling Stones playing.
Clara laughed. “Amazing, isn’t it? 20,000 years or so into the future and the Rolling Stones are still touring.”
She looked at the Doctor, who didn’t laugh back. He looked cross
“Oh, come on,” she frowned, “That was funny!”
The Doctor hesitated, but eventually he cracked a bit of a smile. Clara giggled.
“Well, anyway,” said the Doctor, “We have an Axon problem on our hands. We need to deal with it. Are you up for it?”
“I think,” Clara deliberated, “Still got a bit of a headache, though.”
The Doctor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small bottle of greenish-blue liquid.
“What is it?” Clara asked curiously as she took it and studied it carefully. The bottle was clear plastic and there was a white lid sealing the contents.
“Headache medication,” said the Doctor. “Bought it from a cow. It’s the strongest stuff in the universe.”
Clara opened the lid and sniffed. “Smells awful,” she said, curling her nose.
Elvis, who had been feeling left out, spoke up once again.
“So, these Axons - how do we get rid of them?”
“I don’t know,” said the Doctor, as Clara downed a mouthful of medication.
She grimaced and wiped a smear from the corner of her lip. “Tastes awful, too…”
“Axons are like a sort of intergalactic household pest.” continued the Doctor, “They don’t always look that nice either - their true form is more like a heap of loose strands of flesh.”
Clara almost gagged. “Eurgh!”
“I know, pretty disgusting.”
“I was talking about this medication,”Clara clarified, “Y’know, I think my headache is completely gone already…”
“Ah! Good, then we can get down to business and find out what these Axons are up to.”
A loud cheer erupted from the audience. The Doctor, Clara, and Elvis turned to see Elton John coming on stage, accepting the crowd’s enthusiasm as he sat down behind his piano.
The cheers still raged as he played the first first few notes of ‘Crocodile Rock’.
“I remember when rock was young
Me and Suzie had so much fun…”
“Why here?” asked Clara.
“Hmm?”
“Why here, why are the Axons here?” repeated Clara.
“Like I said, Clara, they feast on the energy resources of planets. Now, if you were part of a parasitic consciousness, where would you go to feast on the energy of people?”
Clara thought.
“Termiosa,” she said.
“Exactly,” said the Doctor.
“Well Crocodile Rocking is something shocking,
When your feet just can't keep still,
I never knew me a better time and I guess I never will…”
“First things first,” the Doctor spoke, “We should find their main ship.”
“How about we take you to it?” a voice hissed.
The three of them turned in horror to find a group of four Axons standing behind them, wearing leather jackets.
“Brave choice with the leather jackets,” said the Doctor nonchalantly, “I suppose you’re just trying to fit in here? What are you - Hell’s Angels? Quite literally I suppose…”
“We are here to maintain security,” the Axon leader snarled.
“A likely story!” the Doctor scoffed, “You lot never go anywhere unless there’s something tasty to feed on!”
“La lalalala la lalalala la lalalala la…”
Clara frowned, and looked down at the stage. “That’s not right,”
The robot duplicate of Elton John was getting up. Still singing the same line, it moved towards the crowd.
“You are being a nuisance, Doctor,” said the Axon, “For the safety of all visitors at Termiosa, you must be removed.”
“Doctor! Something’s wrong!”
“Not now Clara! And you -” the Doctor jabbed a finger at the leader, “Will be a nuisance for the visitors too. For everyone’s safety, I must remove you!”
“Doctor, seriously. Look over here.”
“La lalalala la lalalala la lalalala la”
The robot moved among the crowd. It was stuck on the same line as the music too skipped. People in the crowd were getting confused.
“La lalalala la lalalala la lalalala la”
Then, as the robot approached a crowd member - a middle aged man in his forties, by Clara’s reckoning. It reached up and placed its hands around his neck. The man struggled and screamed, but the robot just motionlessly remained in that position.
Soon, though, he fell to the ground, dead. The excitement in the crowd turned to terror, as the robot Elton John rounded on more members. People rushed for the exit.
“Oh, that’s not good at all,” the Doctor breathed. He turned back to the Axons. “So! I’m the nuisance now? How about you control your robot army and stop them killing innocent people?”
“This was not part of the plan!” screamed the Axon leader. It watched in horror as Elton John murdered more people, still singing the chorus of ‘Crocodile Rock’. Everyone was rushing for the exit.
“So you admit you have a plan then!”
“Doctor, it’s coming this way, we have to move!” yelled Clara. She grasped his and Elvis’ hands, pulling them away from the Axons.
“After them!” screamed the Axon leader.
*
Clara, the Doctor, and Elvis rounded a corner. Everywhere was chaos. It wasn’t just the duplicates of Elton John going haywire. Clara spotted Billy Joel smashing people’s heads into his piano while singing ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’, and thousands rushed out of one venue, chased by a murderous David Bowie.
“What now?” asked Clara
“What I said before,” responded the Doctor, “We have to find the Axon ship. They’re behind all this, I just know it.”
“They said they this wasn’t part of the plan though, I heard them!” Elvis complained.
The Doctor turned, slowly, processing Elvis’ presence for perhaps the first time.
Clara noticed he looked angry. “Doctor, don’t -”
“Oh no,” said the Doctor, “You can’t stay with us. You’re a robot. And judging by the actions of the others, you might turn and kill us at any moment.”
“I am not a robot!” yelled Elvis.
“Oh yes you are!”
“Doctor -”
“Clara, can’t you see? If he’s a robot, he could kill us at any moment like the rest! He can’t stay!”
Clara sighed. “I’m sorry, Elvis…”
“It’s alright,” said Elvis bitterly, as he began to move away from them.
“Great.” The Doctor didn’t even break stride. “Now let’s go.”
He and Clara turned a corner - and found themselves facing a group of Axons.
“Capture them!” yelled the leader, “Alive!”
The Doctor and Clara tried to run - but two of the golden creatures grabbed them by the hands and waist and constricted any further movement. One forced the Doctor’s guitar away from him.
“You better be careful with that, it’s very special,” the Doctor warned, “It’s a very rare antique!”
“And get the other one that was with them too!” said the leader
“What?” said the Doctor in shock, “Oh, no, he’s not with us, I assure you -”
Try as he might, Elvis could not run from the Axons. They caught him and dragged him back to the Doctor and Clara.
“Hi again,” Clara tried to wave, before realising she couldn’t. She settled for a charming smile.
“Hi,” Elvis grunted with some difficulty. The Axon holding him was really very strong.
“Take them and lock them up,” commanded the Axon leader. “We will deal with them later.”
The group of them were then dragged away.
*
A door was swung rudely open and three figures - the Doctor, Clara Oswald, and a man who may or may not have been Elvis Presley - were thrown in. The Axons shut and locked the door.
The door in question harrumphed. It did not take kindly to being pushed about.
The Doctor was the first up from the floor, rushing over to the door. The Axons hadn’t confiscated his sonic sunglasses; so he produced it and scanned the door. The telltale buzz and bright green glow lit up the dark room.
Clara rubbed her head, feeling her headache resurfacing as she heaved herself off the floor. “Where are we?” she asked.
“In the Axon ship,” replied the Doctor, “That was all part of the plan, see. Get captured, they’ll take us to their ship.”
“This place looks more like a diner to me,” Clara noted.
The Doctor looked up from examining the door. The place they were in looked like a stereotypical American diner from the 1950s. Red tables and comfy looking chairs lined the left and right of the small area, and a small order bar ran from the doors to the middle of the room, with stools placed at the front and an oak door leading to a small kitchenette at the back.
Definitely not an Axon ship.
“Well, we’re close to it, I bet,” the Doctor shrugged. “Now if I can get this door open…Clara, come here.”
He dragged Clara over and stuffed the sonic sunglasses in her hands. Clara immediately put them on, and they both tried to sonic the door. They recoiled in surprise when it vibrated violently.
“Ah…” the Doctor trailed off awkwardly. “Sorry.”
“What?”
“The door. It’s sentient. Which means we’re close to the ship! That door is obviously part of Axos.”
Elvis moaned in pain on the ground.
The Doctor stared at him. “Go help him up.”
“I thought you didn’t like him,” teased Clara.
“I don’t,” the Doctor confirmed, “But he may be useful, if he’s a robot.”
“Which I’m not,” said Elvis, clambering up with Clara’s help.
The Doctor turned away from his examination of the door and regarded Elvis. “How did you come to be here, then? If you’re actually Elvis that is? Elvis, as far as I know, wasn’t abducted by aliens, no matter how many conspiracies people read.”
“You travel in time and space,” said Elvis, “How is it that you can’t believe I’m real?”
The Doctor paused and considered. “Fair point,” he said. “But we’re on Termiosa. There’s hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of robot musicians here - forgive me if I’m a little suspicious.”
“I understand that,” Elvis nodded, “But I assure you I want to help. Termiosa has become my home for a while now - I’d hate to see it destroyed. Imagine if your home was destroyed, Doctor - how would you feel then?”
The Doctor became quiet, pacing into a corner. Clara bit her lip, and looked down at the ground. “Yeah,” he finally muttered, “I know what that’s like. It’s not very...pleasant.” Then the Doctor went back to the door. “If I can trigger a local reversal of the neutron flow’s polarity, perhaps I can persuade the door to open for us. It doesn’t seem to like me at the moment…”
The door shivered as the Doctor ran a hand along it.
“Not very friendly, your Doctor, is he?” whispered Elvis to Clara.
“He can be,” Clara whispered back, “He can be really lovely once you get on his good side.”
Elvis drew up two chairs from behind the diners’ bar and offered one to Clara. She sat down.
“So, Elvis,” she began, “You seem really attached to Termiosa. Why is it that you don’t want to go home to Earth?”
Elvis thought. “I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps I am a robot!” They both laughed.
“I suppose,” continued Elvis, “Here is just filled with so music. I’ve always loved music, ever since I was a child, and here there’s an endless amount of it. Imagine spending every day of your life just listening to wonderful music. Nothing else, no stress, just music. I think that’s lovely.”
“But wouldn’t you get bored it?” asked Clara. “After all, there’s more to life than just music.”
“Perhaps,” said Elvis, “But music isn’t like that with me. It resonates with me, in my bones, in my mind. It’s peaceful. It calms me. It’s a thing of beauty.”
“What about your wife?”
Elvis smiled sadly. “Priscilla’s strong. She can manage without me. I know she can. Will you look out for her? For me?”
“Of course,” Clara nodded. “I promise.” She took a breath and looked around the bar. “Hey, you could start a band. The...Punk Rockers or something.” She cringed. “That was awful.”
Elvis stifled a laugh. “A band doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe not the name though.”
“Yeah, maybe not,” Clara agreed. “It’s probably for the best.”
“Yeah…” the two looked at each other, and laughed. Elvis sobered and leaned back in his chair, contemplative. “Maybe if we get out of here, we can fix this place up. Start afresh, kick out all the Axons and build new robots that don’t murder people. I think I like that idea.”
Clara looked over at the Doctor, who was still fiddling with the door.
“Maybe you can recruit him for your band,” she laughed, “He’s good at guitar.”
Elvis laughed along. “If he likes, though I somehow doubt that he will.”
The Doctor stopped his proceedings and glanced at them. “What are you two laughing about?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Clara shrugged, “Just trying to pass the time.”
“Well, I think I’ve figured out a way out of of here,”
“Oh?”
“Axos is a psychic creature. If I can maintain a psychic link with that door, I can perhaps persuade it to open for us…”
“You can maintain a psychic link with a door?” asked Clara doubtfully.
“I used to be able to do it,” said the Doctor, “Then I decided sonic screwdrivers were more fun.”
“I don’t understand,” Elvis frowned, “How is it that that door,” - he pointed at it - “Is part of this creature you call Axos, and the rest of this diner, well...isn’t?”
The Doctor looked startled. He suddenly felt very, very stupid. A moment of realization crossed his face
“Doctor?” asked Clara.
“Of course!” said the Doctor, “How could I forget that…”
“Forget what?”
“Axos. It’s not just a parasitic creature. It can also duplicate matter! Axonite!”
Elvis’s frown deepened. “What the hell is Axonite?”
“Yeah, Doctor, you’re going to have to explain,” Clara added.
“Pokemon!” the Doctor declared, pointing at her. “Think of Pokemon. More specifically, think of the mega stones.”
“Okay…”
“Good, now forget that. All they share in common are the similar names,” the Doctor continued. He shuffled closer. “Axonite is sentent. It thinks for itself. Imagine a thinking molecule. Any energy absorbed, it can recreate perfectly, as long as that energy exists in the first place.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this in the first place?” Elvis demanded crossly.
“Because I forgot,” the Doctor retorted. “I thought Axos was here only to absorb energy, and I was right, to a point…”
“What point?” Clara prompted when the Doctor lapsed into silence.
“The robots. They aren’t robots - they’re Axon duplicates. There may have been robots before, but once Axos came, this whole venue became an elaborate setup. All they want is to absorb energy, and what better way to do that than to lure lots and lots of people to a concert venue? It’s genius! Well, it’s also terrible, but also pretty genius.”
“Then why did they start killing people?” asked Clara.
“That...that I don’t know,” said the Doctor. “Axos is a hive mind, so unless they activated their duplicates to start killing people, they wouldn’t have…”
“But if they’re here to simply absorb lots of energy, why would they kill people?”
“Exactly,” the Doctor snapped his fingers at her, “But Axon duplicates can’t go rogue, at least, I haven’t experienced it before…”
“What about the door?” asked Elvis.
The Doctor turned towards Elvis, then back to the door. It was sighing softly.
“It means this whole place is made of Axonite,” the Doctor explained gravely, “Possibly the whole venue itself. Which means we didn’t need to look for the ship - we’ve been standing it it the whole time!” He let that revelation hang in the air as he knelt down beside the door, placing a hand gently to the frame. “Now, let’s get out of here.”
“So, they’re like Dream Crabs?” Clara compared. “They can create their own scenarios?”
“Not even remotely, now shush!”
The Doctor went quiet, his hand against the door. He closed his eyes, and Clara assumed he was mentally linked to the door itself.
The door tingled and sighed, then unlocked.
“Come on,” said the Doctor. Clara followed, motioning for Elvis to join them.
*
“How can this whole building be a part of of Axos?” asked the Doctor rhetorically. “It would be the easiest way for them to absorb energy! Once you’re running around inside it, they can leech off your adrenaline, your fear, your excitement - anything!”
“So, perfect for a concert hall, then?” Clara asked sarcastically.
“Exactly,” said the Doctor.
They turned a corner, and ducked to avoid a murderous Jeff Lynne.
“So, do you have a plan?” asked Elvis.
“Yes,” the Doctor nodded, “Last time I defeated them, I put them in a time loop. Probably not going to work as well this time - but as we found out in that cell, the door didn’t react well to sonic energy. If I can get right into the heart of the ship and blast it with a stronger signal, I could perhaps destroy it’s psychic links and cut off the energy receptors.”
“I have no idea what that means,”
“I means,” said the Doctor, “We need to go get my guitar back from the Axons!”
*
“How is sonic energy different from all the noise that the music generates?”
“Cause it comes from my sonic sunglasses,” replied the Doctor.
“Right,” said Elvis.
“Just accept it,” said Clara, “If he thinks it works, it probably will.”
“Clara, I want you to do something for me,” said the Doctor, stopping in the middle of a hall. Clara could see a robot (or a duplicate, she supposed) at the end of the hall.
“Doctor…”
“Yes, I know. Keep the sunglasses.”
“What do I have to do with them?” Clara asked, calmly regarding the threat.
“Find the centre of the Axon ship,” the Doctor order, “Here, I’ll set the function for you”
The sunglasses made a funny sound as Elvis noted the duplicate (one in the form of Buddy Holly), was slowly advancing towards them.
The Doctor handed Clara the sunglasses. “You know what to do?”
There was no hesitation. “Yes.” She turned to the musician. “Elvis? You with me?”
“Uh, yeah,” Elvis murmured. Clara nodded and rushed off down the corridor, Elvis on her heels.
“Just like that?” asked Elvis.
“Just like what?”
“The Doctor just asked you to do something incredibly dangerous and you accept it just like that?”
“He knows what he’s doing, the Doctor. I’m confident.”
“But what if he’s not, Clara? What if one day he doesn’t know what he’s doing? What then?”
“It’s not like that. We always win, me and him. Same old, same old.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“It’s not like that -”
“What happens if you don’t?” Elvis persisted.
Clara didn’t even stop to think. “I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Elvis was clearly disturbed. Clara just shrugged it off and ran off. He could do nothing but follow.
*
“Ah! Hello, Buddy Holly!”
The duplicate stared the Doctor in the face.
“I have one request of you!” he continued, “Take me to your leader!”
He put his hands up in surrender. The duplicate looked curiously at him, then advanced anyway.
“Wait. No, you’re not supposed to do that!”
The duplicate was getting closer.
“Right, uh, this wasn’t how I expected things to go.”
The duplicate had his hands around the Doctor’s neck.
“Why have the Axons made you do this?” said the Doctor desperately. The duplicate stopped and stared more.
Finally, after a silence he said: “The Axons are our enemies.”
The Doctor looked puzzled.
“But - you’re an Axon duplicate. You’re part of Axos!”
“The Axons are our enemies.”
“That makes no sense, it just doesn’t, I - no, wait.”
A thought occurred to the Doctor. A most brilliant thought indeed.
*
“I think this is it.”
Clara ushered a hesitant Elvis down a flight of crooked stairs into a tunnel. At first, Clara couldn’t see anything beyond the veil of darkness that shrouded the tunnel, but she soon noted the pulsing yellow glow.
“Definitely the place.” Clara reached into her jacket to find the sunglasses. “Now where’s the centre, or whatever it is…”
“I have a question for you, Clara” said Elvis.
“Fire away.”
“Am I remembered, in the future?”
Clara paused her search.
“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so. I mean, if you’re a robot or an Axon duplicate or whatever, obviously you were remembered!” She laughed a little to herself, then frowned.
“I just seems weird to me,” said Elvis. “To be remembered, even after death. Or after being abducted by aliens, I suppose. Music just goes on, doesn’t it? Like a memory.”
“Memories can be forgotten too,” said Clara, without thinking. “Sorry. That was rude of me.”
“No, no, it’s alright,” smiled Elvis. “I get what you’re saying. Even so - I remember songs more than I remember what I did yesterday!”
“Ah, I think it’s here!” said Clara, not quite listening to Elvis. She reached her hand beyond a crevasse in the wall. “I think that’s the Axon nerve centre…”
“Well, I don’t know what an Axon nerve centre looks like, so I’ll just take your word for it.”
“I don’t know either,” said Clara.
“Then how do you know this is the nerve centre?”
“I have a...hunch.”
“Is this another one of your famous hunches?”
“Oh, shut up,” laughed Clara.
There was a hiss behind them.
Clara paused. “Did anyone follow us?”
“I don’t think so.”
They turned around. Standing behind them were duplicates of Elton John and Britney Spears.
“Ah,” said Clara, “That’s not good.”
The duplicates approached.
“Ah. So much for that.”
“For what?” Elvis asked nervously.
“I really thought Britney Spears was hot when I was younger, but right now I think I’m a little turned off…”
*
Well. That wasn’t easy. There was an Axon guarding the confiscated guitar, but after leading the Buddy Holly duplicate into a fist fight with him, the Doctor had made off it.
The Axos plans were deteriorating. They had retreated to the main area of their ship, preparing to escape and leave the planet in chaos. Everything had gone horribly wrong for them, and the Doctor was about to deal the last fatal blow.
His only worry was Clara. But he trusted her.
“Ah! There you are, Axons! We’ve met earlier!” The Doctor called.
The gold creatures turned and looked at the him, standing in their main control room, with their blank stares. He was standing not far apart, guitar in hand.
“Kill him!” yelled the Axon leader.
“No, no, wait!” the Doctor raised his hands placatingly, “Hear me out! I want to tell you something!”
They stared at him some more. “What is it?”
“Music,” said the Doctor.
*
Meanwhile, Clara and Elvis were backed up against the wall, the duplicates of Elton John and Britney Spears. The sonic sunglasses were lying a distance away, out of reach.
*
“Music!” the Doctor shouted, “It’s the stuff that dreams are made of. And you, Axos - you’ve taken it for granted. You think you can just swagger in here and use it for your own gain? Well, I’m not going to let that happen.”
*
Clara kicked. The Britney Spears duplicate had her hands around her neck.
“Music has power,” the Doctor continued, “Have you ever been to a hospital and witnessed those suffering from dementia? I bet you haven’t. Because even when they have lost all their capabilities as a person, for some of them, music still gives them joy. You can see it in their faces! That’s the kind of power music has. The ability to bring back memories.”
“Look! Over there!” The duplicate turned, and Clara struck it in the back while it wasn’t looking.
Elvis punched Elton John in the face and rushed over to Clara, who was scrambling for the sunglasses.
*
“You want to know why your duplicates rebelled?” asked the Doctor. “Because you gave them memories. Memories of their time playing music on Earth. They were never there, but they remember, and they remember being creative. You’ve created artists, Axons. And artists need to create. You’ve stuck them here, singing the same old songs over and over again - and they’re bored. That’s why they started killing people!”
Clara shoved the sunglasses into the crevasse of the Axonite ship as the two duplicates began another advance.
“And now I’ve given music another power, Axos,” the Doctor raised his voice triumphantly. “The power to defeat you!”
He strummed the guitar loudly - the sonic sound echoing out of the sunglasses and straight into Axos itself.
The gold creatures faltered. They stumbled back, shifting their appearance. Gone were the beautiful, angelic, humanoid creatures; all that was left were heaps of fleshy tendrils in their place.
They screamed.
The two duplicates chasing Elvis and Clara collapsed in a heap, and the tunnel they were in began to vibrate.
“Come on!” said Elvis, “Let’s get out of here!”
They ran. Clara grabbed the sonic sunglasses just as the wall exploded. They were thrown to the ground as they rushed up the stairs.
The whole place collapsed in on itself.
Clara barely got to her feet before the Doctor wrapped his arms around her and enveloped her in a crushing hug, spinning her in the air.
“Are you alright?” he asked in concern as he set her down. “No broken bones?”
“With a hug like that, there very well could be,” Clara teased. The smile turned sincere when she noticed the Doctor’s conflicted expression. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” The Doctor grinned, and Clara grinned back.
Elvis got up too. “We did it then?” he asked.
“Yep,” said the Doctor, “No more Axos. Now you are all free to play whatever music you choose. Go and be creative with it! Termiosa isn’t the music capital of the universe for nothing.”
“So, that just happened?” Elvis looked puzzled. “We just saved the world?”
Clara folded her arms and grinned at him. “Yeah, we did. Same old, same old, right Doctor?”
“Indeed.” For the first time since they met, the Doctor smiled at Elvis.
*
“What do I do with all the duplicates, though? They’re all unconscious. And there’s a bunch of dead audience members too…”
“I don’t think many people will be coming to Termiosa for a while,” said the Doctor. They were inside the TARDIS, which was humming softly. Elvis had reacted pretty well to it being bigger on the inside, but, considering the past twenty-four hours, maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched.
“This is your chance to start again,” said the Doctor. “Begin anew. Create actual robots! Termiosa can and will go on. Music will never be forgotten.”
He smiled again. Elvis smiled back.
“Memories can be forgotten,” Elvis intoned, looking straight at Clara, who rolled her eyes.
“Not always,” she sighed, laughing.
“No,” smiled Elvis, “I have lots of memories I haven’t forgotten. But a song is a kind of memory, I guess. Maybe some memories become songs?”
“Maybe.” the Doctor looked thoughtful. “Maybe…”
Elvis gave Clara a hug and, after one last glance around, left the TARDIS.
Clara smiled and turned to the Doctor. “Admit it,” she said, “You liked him.”
The Doctor didn’t respond. He merely operated the TARDIS lever, dematerializing it right in front of Elvis’ surprised face. He could see him laughing to himself on the scanner.
“So!” said Clara, “What was he?”
“What was he what?”
“An Axon, or a robot?” asked Clara, “Or the real deal?”
“Well, he obviously had memories implanted of his time on Earth,” said the Doctor, “But then he didn’t seem to be among the other duplicates, killing people. I’d say he was just a robot.”
“But you don’t know, do you?” Clara teased, “He could be actually Elvis, abducted by aliens, couldn’t he? All the conspiracy theories would be true…”
The Doctor smiled to himself. “Let’s say he was both then. A robot and the real thing. Like a kind of...hybrid.”
His voice sounded ominous as he pronounced the word, and his face grew contemplative once more.
Clara frowned. “Why do you do that?”
The Doctor looked at her in confusion. “Do what?”
“That,” Clara gestured wildly with her hand. “You always say that, and then you just pause.”
“Maybe I just like to do it for dramatic effect,” the Doctor retorted, defensively crossing his arms.
“Oh, yeah?” Clara grinned.
“Yeah!” He sniffed, and grabbed the new pair of sonic sunglasses that the TARDIS supplied him with.
Clara ran over and hugged him by the arm, dropping the subject. “Come on then, where to?”
“Wherever you like, Miss Oswald.” The Doctor looked at her expectantly. “Though, if you’re looking for a helping hand, I suggest 1651.”
Clara pulled away from his arm and stared at him with her big, brown eyes. “You said I could pick!”
“You are picking! I’m just...nudging you.”
Clara sighed. “Well I think I ought to go take the Year 7s to taekwondo. How about later?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He pulled the lever, and the TARDIS’s familiar wheezing, groaning noise filled the console room as it began to dematerialize.
writer - AUDREY ARMSTRONG, additional material by ZOE LANCE
cover art - JANINE RIVERS
story editor - ZOE LANCE
producer - JANINE RIVERS
cover art - JANINE RIVERS
story editor - ZOE LANCE
producer - JANINE RIVERS