In Dulci Jubilo - Written by The Genie
Holding Facility – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
The Doctor was pushed along the spaceship corridor, tripping and stumbling. His legs ached. He couldn’t remember how long it had been going on for now. Pushing, shoving, crawling. For miles on end.
The direction changed and the Doctor was thrown into a cell. He fell like a sack of potatoes, offering no resistance to the Cybermen’s brute force. His eyes shut through tiredness.
When he woke up, he was back on the same floor. His senses were more aware this time. They were aware of the damp below him and the natural brick layering the cell. He hit the walls. Solid casing – he wouldn’t be going anywhere. The room was lit a light shade of blue.
“You have been imprisoned in a secure facility around the planet Trenzalore,” came the throaty robotic voice of a Cyberman through an intercom. “Everything you say in this room will be processed through our translators and fed back to our conference. We have extrapolated the technology of the truth field. Everything you say will be the truth.”
“Why don’t you just kill me?” asked the Doctor. No response. The speaker fell silent. “Thought so. Still think I’ve got something up my sleeve, do you?” He laughed manically, feeling the power of his victory. “I could still be connected. I could be communicating with them right now. All it takes is one word-“
“YOU WILL NOT SPEAK YOUR NAME!” interrupted the Cyberman. “YOU WILL BE SILENCED.”
“See how long that takes you,” muttered the Doctor. “So, anything I like, but it has to be the truth? This should be fun.”
Conference Room – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
The Slitheen entered, late. It took its time, taking in the splendour of the conference room – a lavish red rug and a white marble floor, surrounded by pillared white marble walls and a see-through ceiling. It was like an outer-space five-star hotel. The Time Lords’ enemies gathered around a long rectangular table. The room was silent by nature. Each calculated its own plan in its own mind.
“Let’s get down to business,” began an ordinary-looking man in an ordinary-looking black suit at the end of the table. He looked important so none of the others dared question his authority. “The Cybermen have the Doctor trapped. A feed directly from his holding cell can be transmitted into this very room. If you would.” He gestured to the Cyberman who was sat, lifelessly, at the other end of the table. Its chest piece opened up and a loud signal came through.
“Hello!” It was the voice of the Doctor. Those enemies who were flesh and blood shivered. The others ran around recklessly inside their minds, screaming, also inside their minds. Their cold, dead exteriors gave it away. They were glad the Doctor couldn’t see.
“I felt that. Question Time, then. Do you like Question Time? It’s a bit different to Question Time though, because I actually have to tell the truth. Imagine Question Time when everyone told the truth. Would there even be a Question Time?”
The man bit his lip, preparing the dullest, most informal voice he could pull off. “A number of questions will be put to you,” he began. “Please answer the questions without hesitation. Please be explicit in your elaboration. Provide a straightforward and unembellished version of the truth.”
“Anyone for Twister?”
The conference team ignored the Doctor, and envied the Cyberman who was apparently unfazed by having the Doctor’s voice transmitted from its heart.
“Clear your minds,” instructed the man. “Then place your questions in them. One question per participant. The questions will be gathered through our psychic filter and put to the Doctor in turn and anomalously.”
All those present closed their eyes, shut out their vision sensors, or did whatever it was to enter the realm of thought.
“All questions have been gathered. The first is…” The man held up a tablet device and squinted at the list of items on the agenda. “Does anyone on Trenzalore know your name?”
Back in his cell, the Doctor focused. The extrapolation of the truth field won’t be as strong as the original – it can’t be. You can use that to your advantage. He forced his mind to concentrate on the facts. Clara had been to Trenzalore – she knew his name. She’d return one day, with him. She’d both been to Trenzalore and would come back. The Doctor cleared his throat and focused on that twisted logic.
“Yes.”
The alliance exchanged looks of terror. If every heartbeat in the room could have been heard at that one moment, there would have been a cacophony of percussion.
“Please state the name of the individual who possesses this information.”
The Doctor bit his tongue to stop him answering on compulsion. He thought of Clara’s name. He couldn’t remember her middle name. No name had been specified by the man, and by the Doctor’s logic he was asking for a full name.
“I don’t know the name,” responded the Doctor. He smiled, knowing he wasn’t being filmed. He’d always been good at manipulating the truth.
“We’ll have to move straight onto the next question,” said the man as emotionlessly as ever, scrolling down the screen on his tablet. “This question came up several times – in fact, 70% of participants asked it. The question is: why?”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
“Why did you choose to protect the townspeople of Trenzalore?”
“Well, my motor’s run off.”
There was a pause. The participants exchanged underwhelmed glances.
“Are there any other reasons?”
“Yes.” There was another pause; a smothering silence of anticipation. “You only had to ask. I don’t need a truth field or a holding cell to tell you the truth because here it is. Here is the reason why I’ve really stayed on Trenzalore.”
Christmas, Trenzalore
Archie carefully tuned the radio, keeping the door of the clock tower closed. He listened in through the white noise and adjusted the dial slowly and warily.
“I don’t need… or a hold…”
He turned the dial again, noticing as he did the wrinkles crease on his hand when it moved. He was starting to get old. He’d been too busy to notice.
“…truth because here it is.”
Archie smiled in satisfaction. He was effectively tuned-in; able to hear everything. The reason why he’d chosen to do this, however, was unclear even to him. He wondered, for one deadly moment, whether it was out of care towards the Doctor, but quickly dismissed that thought. Then something truly unexpected came out of the radio, unquestionably from the Doctor’s voice. Something that made Archibald Sawyer’s mind whir furiously in curiosity.
“Here is the reason why I’ve really stayed on Trenzalore.”
Holding Facility – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
“Here is the reason why I’ve really stayed on Trenzalore.”
The Doctor sighed, frustrated by his enemies’ emotional ignorance. Anyone would have thought the real reason was obvious – he was the Doctor, after all, and they all knew him.
“Christmas,” he began. “It’s a story that goes back a long way. True? I don’t have a right to say. No one does. It’s a beautiful idea, and it’s what people believe. And that idea goes back to long before Christmas – it goes back to paradise, to a garden called Eden where the earliest of beings played together, exposed, without shame. To a time where sin was just an idea and the only thing that stood in their way was temptation.” The Doctor snapped out of his dream. “I never believed that idea. I thought it was stupid. But now things have changed – I think I’ve found Eden, and I’ve found it here.” He looked to the dull, damp cell floor, trying to see through it and return to the world he’d left. “When you look down to the planet below you see the most dangerous thing in the universe. You see a battleground, and you see a list of the dead. That’s not what I see every day when I step upstairs for that precious sunrise. I see a town named after the universe’s most recognised Day of Peace. I see a community where not one person can ever tell a lie. Where there are no secrets, and no history to be ashamed of. A town that can be proud of its heritage but doesn’t proclaim itself for fear of vanity. A town that’s only discovered a word for war because of me being there, and a town where every person sees the world from each other’s eyes, and is as symbolically exposed as a human being can ever be. Why did I stay on Trenzalore?” He smiled. “I don’t need to tell you that. The bigger question is this: why do you want to kill them?”
Conference Room – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
“Have you considered,” started one human representative, breaking the silence, “that we should perhaps be considering the humaneness of our exploits here? Perhaps if-“
The room erupted. The human shrunk as he was crushed by the heckling voices around him.
“SILENCE!” cried out the man at the front of the table. “These issues can be debated at a later date; however, it remains highly unlikely, judging by the reaction, that any of our policies will be changed. Are there any more questions?”
Christmas, Trenzalore
Archie shook his head, wishing there'd been another way.
Not now Archie. Don’t change your mind now.
He was awoken by a knock at the door.
“Hello? Sheriff?” It was Marta, owner of the Christmas pub. She carried a lantern and wore funereal attire. “I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s April, your daughter. She appears to have gone missing.”
Archie turned away from the time crack, the light from behind him turning his body into an ominous silhouette.
“What?”
***
“The last we saw of her was during the Sontaran invasion. She disappeared in this spot.”
The footprints were April’s – Archie recognised them. The people of Christmas kept their shoes and it snowed day on day; they even became accustomed to each other’s footsteps.
“They’re hers,” he said, with a hint of defeat.
“What are you thinking?” probed Marta.
“I’m thinking that I gave the Doctor to the Cybermen and that they could be involved in this,” began Archie. “I’m thinking it’s all my fault and wishing I hadn’t started this in the first place.”
“How could you?” burst out Marta. “We loved the Doctor.”
“I did it for you,” pleaded Archie. “I thought it was the right thing-“
“The Doctor was all we had! Now what are we meant to do?” She kicked the snow, thinking of solutions. “These Cybermen, can you speak to them again? Contact them?”
Archie considered.
“Yes. I can use the radio I hacked.”
“The Cybermen lied to you through the radio,” clarified Marta. “Make them come here. Then we can hear the real truth.”
Conference Room – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
“We also have the Doctor’s associate and the Sheriff’s daughter, a girl named April Sawyer,” explained the Cyberman. “She can be used as a bargaining chip if such a situation arises.”
“Hello?”
The voice came from the Cyberman’s chest. The man at the front of the table raised an eyebrow. The other participants expressed their bewilderment in whatever ways their alien conduct told them to.
“Hello, I’m Archie Sawyer and I’m trying to intercept this conference call. Sorry, I’m not too good with technology…”
“Identify the purpose of your interception,” growled the Cyberman.
“I’m here to ask for a meeting – in the village of Christmas. Send down whoever’s in charge. No funny business.”
The signal cut off.
A green woman turned to the man at the front of the table.
“What did you say your name was?”
The Papal Mainframe – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
Tasha lifted the incense from its shelf and inhaled briefly. She could already feel the momentary power of its scent. Placing it on her altar, she lit a match and closed her eyes.
“Smells nice.”
Tasha gasped and dropped the match. The fire-proof floor of the Papal Mainframe extinguished the fire immediately.
“Who are you?” Tasha felt around for something she could use as a weapon. She recognised the man who leant against her doorframe, but she couldn’t think how.
“Archibald Sawyer,” he began.
“Ah.” Tasha rested.
“My daughter’s been taken – and so has the Doctor.”
“The Doctor? Wait – who let you in?”
“Colonel Dorav. He used the iris recognition system.” Archie approached the altar and dumped a wrapped gift on it, assuming it as Tasha’s bed. “Little present to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“Something you haven’t done yet, but will do if you want to get the Doctor back. I need your help. I need you to help me do something impossible, Mother Superious. I need you to help me do something I’ve never seen done by anyone I know that defies all boundaries of plausible science.”
“What?”
“I need you to help me tell a lie.”
***
“You’re sure this will work?”
“Yes – but only once.” Tasha strapped Archie into the bed. He wondered why he had to be strapped in. As he moved his mouth he could feel the wires along his face.
“How can you do this?”
“I specialise in spiritual matters,” she replied flirtatiously. “Plugged into this machine, you’ll exist in two places at once. You can return to Christmas but your biology will respond to what’s happening here. Anything that happens to you in this room, you’ll feel. At the same time, you’ll also be unrestricted by the town’s truth field: you’ll be able to tell a lie, just as you would in here.”
“And they won’t be able to tell anything? They won’t be able to scan me or anything like that?”
“Absolutely not.” Tasha tightened the harness and finished adjusting the apparatus. “You will exist in two places at once – but only for one hour. Use your time wisely.”
Christmas, Trenzalore
The man trudged through the snow. He was an ordinary-looking man with ordinary clothes as Archie observed. A businessman; a kind of straightforward, nothing-to-hide businessman who was always working yet had no impact on the world. But there was something about him…
“Mr. Artifice,” he said, offering a handshake in introduction. “Where are the rest of the village?”
“Sleeping,” murmured Archie with a menacing glare. “You have to tell the truth whilst you’re here, so tell me – where is my daughter?”
“She is being held in a holding facility above Trenzalore,” explained Artifice. “She will be used as a bargaining chip if necessary.”
“A bargain? Why would you need to bargain with us?”
“We have received intelligence that someone in this town possesses the key to summoning the Time Lords.”
“The Doctor’s name? Yes. I do,” lied Archie, feeling a tingle of regret. Is that what lying feels like?
The man was taken aback. “Do you intend to expose this information?”
“No – if you play by my rules.” Archie glowered. “Teleport the Doctor and April here within the next minute, or I will reveal his name.”
“We can’t-“
“Tasha has weakened the force-field enough to allow then through,” promised Archie. Fifty seconds, or I reveal the name. Forty-seven…”
“Bring them down within the next few seconds,” commanded Artifice through the intercom.
“That’s better,” said Archie. “Forty… thirty-nine…” He lifted his watch.
“Come on,” urged Artifice to himself. “Summon them.” He felt a sudden palpitation. Strange. His senses were overwhelming him in an unusual way. He felt… queasy…
“Five,” continued Archie, “four… three… two…”
He was stopped by a flash of blue light. The Doctor and April emerged, weary and ragged.
“Archie…” The Doctor stepped back.
“Hold on,” interjected Artifice, holding onto his heart. “I just think that I feel… whoa…” He fell to the ground as ringing filled his ears. “Can someone…”
“What’s his name?” asked the Doctor, confused.
“Mr. Artifice,” replied Archie.
“Well, Artifice… trick… illusion.” The Doctor’s heart sunk. “And you told them the shields were weakened.”
Suddenly, Artifice’s chest opened up as his eyes closed for the final time. A wide beam of light, like the teleport, flooded out of his chest and covered the landscapes. The shapes of shadows formed a deeper blue in this light, until more emerged.
Dozens of them.
Cybermen.
Abruptly, they started moving, lifting their arms and firing bolts of energy across the village. Some blasted through windows, knocking villagers aside.
“The population will be converted!” instructed the leader. The Cybermen spread out to surround the Doctor and Archie.
“Stop!” bellowed Archie. “I’ll reveal the name! I’ll do it!”
A Cyberman shot at Archie, hitting his arm. Archie continued shouting at them, unfazed by his injury.
“Archie…” observed the Doctor. “You should have felt that.”
“I’m hooked up to the Papal Mainframe,” he whispered. “It’s so that I can lie, but my senses are fully directed to there.”
“Nice thinking,” admired the Doctor, almost forgetting the Cyberman invasion happening around him. April dived in the way to move the Doctor.
“Thanks!” yelped the Doctor.
“Move, you idiot!” cried April. “Am I going to be as bad as you two when I get old?”
“Hopefully not!” called the Doctor. “I’ll probably have to put up with it!”
“I’ll do it! I’ll reveal his name!”
A Cyberman stopped firing and turned to Archie.
“Confirm!”
The Papal Mainframe, Somewhere Above Trenzalore
Tasha watched footage of the battle below, lifting another match and preparing to light it. She paused, realising the incense would probably send Archie to sleep mid-battle. Another shadow appeared in the doorway, but this one was different. It was rigid, wrong.
It was a metal man.
“The apparatus has been discovered as expected.”
“Who are you?” asked Tasha, looking for something that she could use as a weapon.
“I am a Cyberman.”
“Who let you in here?”
“Colonel Dorav. He used the iris recognition system.” The Cyberman opened its palm, revealing a slimy eyeball dangling from a long string of flesh. Tasha felt sick. The eye looked at her, pleadingly, as if it were still alive.
The Cyberman raised its arm and fired at the mechanism holding Archie. Sparks flew off it and the system died.
Christmas, Trenzalore
“Confirm!” bellowed the Cyberman.
Archie stopped. Don’t speak. Can’t speak. Mustn’t speak. He felt like himself again. But… that was bad.
“Negative,” he whispered. “I don’t know his name.” He fell to the ground, holding at his throat.
“Archie, what is it?” urged the Doctor. Archie choked, holding onto his throat.
The Papal Mainframe, Somewhere Above Trenzalore
The Cyberman kept its grip on Archie’s throat. The grip grew tighter and tighter, until…
It was pulled back, suddenly, spinning across the room and smashing into the wall. The programmed injury receptors alerted themselves repeatedly. It tried to move but felt itself secured by rope. Tasha guided the rope, seductively turning with it. She kicked open the doors to her room and guided the tied-up Cyberman out, slinging it over the side of the walkway. It fell into the abyss. Tasha returned coldly to her room and picked up the intercom.
“Colonel Dorav of the Papal Mainframe, deceased at 19:05.” She felt a lump in her throat and choked on her words. “The relevant afterlives will be notified.”
Christmas, Trenzalore
Archie stood up, loosening the grip on his throat.
“It’s stopped,” he panted. “It’s stopped…”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” pointed out the Doctor with maximum cynicism. “The Cybermen never stop…”
They looked around. Being a snowy town, Christmas was often silent, but this silence was different. It was brooding. Several bodies scattered the snow leaving marks like snow angels. Archie recognised a few – Holly, the librarian, and, devastatingly, Abramal. His eyes were wide open, still reeling from the crushing shock of death. Marta leant over his body sobbing into a handkerchief. Archie turned away as a mark of respect.
The Cybermen, meanwhile, stood there. Upright, ardent, proud and frozen to the spot like soldiers waiting for commands.
“What are they waiting for?” murmured the Doctor.
Unexpectedly, the Cybermen shot up into the sky. They exploded in a boom that shock the entire town, then formed an ill-omened black cloud.
It started to rain.
It rained heavy, black droplets which turned the faces of the dead to metal.
The others fell away, running this way and that for cover. Marta stayed by her husband, feeling her hands turn to metal as they touched his transforming face.
“They’re converting them!” cried the Doctor. “Every last one of them. Everyone, get inside! The buildings will hold the pollen for now!”
“Pollen?!” exclaimed April.
“At a guess! Trust me; whatever it is, you don’t want to get caught under it.” The Doctor led Archie and April into the clock tower.
“Archie, you were listening in to the conference; I heard you. You communicated through the Cyberman’s chest. How did you do it?”
“I just tuned this into the right frequency,” explained Archie, picking up the radio. “It works both ways; I got it from passing travellers. Never knew how it worked…”
“It’s transmitted and translated through the Cyberman’s central processing unit,” elucidated the Doctor. “And, potentially, a hive-mind. The Cybermen are linked into the entire system, I’m sure of it. It’s how they’ve had a tactical advantage this whole time; they’ve wired themselves into every single network around Trenzalore. If we can use this radio to transmit a signal…”
“Could we transmit one strong enough to kill them, though?” questioned Archie. “It would need to be supersonic.”
“Supersonic?” The Doctor grinned, whipping out his sonic screwdriver. “Super-sonic!” His face fell. “If I do this, it will kill everyone here who’s been converted. Your townspeople. Your friends.” He turned to Archie. “Sheriff – may I?”
“I…”
“I’m sorry, Archie. I’m going to have to press you for an answer. The rain’s coming through.”
“No.”
Archie sat down on the rocking-chair, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I can’t- I promised them, I…”
“Archie, it’s-“
April snatched the radio from the Doctor. “It’s my town,” she interrupted. “It will be my town. One day he’ll die and I’ll make the decisions. It’s my future.” She nodded to the Doctor, handing back the radio. “Do it.”
The Doctor nodded, a sickening feeling building up in his stomach. He cast a look over at Archie. Archie nodded too.
“Here we go.”
The signal was unnoticeable at first, then it grew. A sound so loud and crippling that it was silent. Waves formed in their vision and their heads felt light. Then the sound eased off, slowly, as it returned to their frequency and ended on a whimper of a diminuendo.
“Did it work?” asked Archie.
“Let’s take a look.”
The Doctor ran outside. The rain had stopped.
“The Cybermites in the pollen have been deactivated.” He grimaced at the bodies strewn across the snow. “It worked.”
“And me? I was plugged into Tasha Lem’s bed, then something happened and I was here again. Am I still up there? What happened?”
“I don’t have a clue, to be honest,” replied the Doctor unhelpfully. “Tasha separated your body into two places. Maybe it’s all returned here. Still, whatever she did, you’ll probably work it out soon enough.”
“Mystery, lies and death.” April bowed her head dutifully. “What a Christmas.”
“I have developed a fault.” The Doctor’s interest was piqued by the voice from within the clock tower. He disappeared for a few moments, returning with the robot head under his arm.
“There’s no getting rid of this one.” He smiled a sad smile.
***
Archie placed the picture on the wall in pride of place. Just behind the bar – it was complete now. Decorations to withstand the effects of the whole year and one splendid framed photograph of Abramal and Marta. It would always be their pub, and now every drinker could look them in the eye as they smiled innocuously back. That was immortality.
“What can I get you?” asked Archie as the Doctor took a seat on one of the barstools. The bar was practically empty. The townspeople were all in their own homes, occupied by their own, sorrowful things.
“Hot chocolate,” requested the Doctor. “Do you have any marshmallows?”
Archie shook his head.
“Hmm…” the Doctor stared up contemplatively at the photo-frame. “We definitely need to find a way of getting marshmallows here. But I’ll have cream, please.”
Archie reluctantly added the cream.
“And some sprinkles of chocolate.”
Archie sprinkled chocolate over the cream, trying to hold back stifled laughter.
“There it is.” The Doctor grinned. “A smile. I could see one coming.”
“Why am I smiling?” asked Archie. “I feel guilty about smiling.”
“Don’t. Always smile at Christmas. And it’s always Christmas.” He held up his hot chocolate. “Cheers.” He sipped through the cream.
“Sheriff,” stated Archie.
“Mm.” The Doctor put the hot chocolate down. A cream moustache sat cheekily on his upper lip. Archie pointed it out discreetly and the Doctor licked it off. “Yes you are, Archibald Sawyer. I misjudged you. You’re the best sheriff in town, and you always will be.”
“No.” Archie poured himself some mulled wine. “You insulted me. You undermined my authority. You took over this town.” He stared into the wine sadly, removing his sheriff’s badge. “You’re the sheriff, Doctor. No hiding it now. You’re better than I am, and I think…” He looked the Doctor in the eye. “I think I hated that.” He passed the badge to the Doctor. It felt heavy in his hands. “This bar needs a new owner. You think you’ve got a legacy to live up to…” He gestured to the picture of Abramal and Marta.
The Doctor secured his badge.
“It’s going to go on – this war, I mean. More people will die.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Sure you want to stay? It will hurt. There will be losses. There’s nothing wrong with-“
“No,” decided Archie. “And that’s final. I’m not cut out to be a wartime sheriff but that doesn’t end my commitment to this town. I’ll be in here when things get tough, when things go well. I’ll be here for the celebrations, I’ll be here for the wakes. I’ll be here for the lonely late-night mothers mourning their sons. And I won’t ever stop.”
The Doctor replied with an understanding nod.
“Besides, April’s here. Hey, I think she’d make a great deputy.”
“She already is,” confirmed the Doctor. “I’ll keep her safe for you Archie.”
“Then let’s make the most of it.” Archie raised his glass. “All of us, together, just this once. Alive. In Dulci Jubilo, as they used to say of Christmas.”
The Doctor raised his mug. The cream had started to sink in.
“In Dulci Jubilo.”
The Doctor was pushed along the spaceship corridor, tripping and stumbling. His legs ached. He couldn’t remember how long it had been going on for now. Pushing, shoving, crawling. For miles on end.
The direction changed and the Doctor was thrown into a cell. He fell like a sack of potatoes, offering no resistance to the Cybermen’s brute force. His eyes shut through tiredness.
When he woke up, he was back on the same floor. His senses were more aware this time. They were aware of the damp below him and the natural brick layering the cell. He hit the walls. Solid casing – he wouldn’t be going anywhere. The room was lit a light shade of blue.
“You have been imprisoned in a secure facility around the planet Trenzalore,” came the throaty robotic voice of a Cyberman through an intercom. “Everything you say in this room will be processed through our translators and fed back to our conference. We have extrapolated the technology of the truth field. Everything you say will be the truth.”
“Why don’t you just kill me?” asked the Doctor. No response. The speaker fell silent. “Thought so. Still think I’ve got something up my sleeve, do you?” He laughed manically, feeling the power of his victory. “I could still be connected. I could be communicating with them right now. All it takes is one word-“
“YOU WILL NOT SPEAK YOUR NAME!” interrupted the Cyberman. “YOU WILL BE SILENCED.”
“See how long that takes you,” muttered the Doctor. “So, anything I like, but it has to be the truth? This should be fun.”
Conference Room – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
The Slitheen entered, late. It took its time, taking in the splendour of the conference room – a lavish red rug and a white marble floor, surrounded by pillared white marble walls and a see-through ceiling. It was like an outer-space five-star hotel. The Time Lords’ enemies gathered around a long rectangular table. The room was silent by nature. Each calculated its own plan in its own mind.
“Let’s get down to business,” began an ordinary-looking man in an ordinary-looking black suit at the end of the table. He looked important so none of the others dared question his authority. “The Cybermen have the Doctor trapped. A feed directly from his holding cell can be transmitted into this very room. If you would.” He gestured to the Cyberman who was sat, lifelessly, at the other end of the table. Its chest piece opened up and a loud signal came through.
“Hello!” It was the voice of the Doctor. Those enemies who were flesh and blood shivered. The others ran around recklessly inside their minds, screaming, also inside their minds. Their cold, dead exteriors gave it away. They were glad the Doctor couldn’t see.
“I felt that. Question Time, then. Do you like Question Time? It’s a bit different to Question Time though, because I actually have to tell the truth. Imagine Question Time when everyone told the truth. Would there even be a Question Time?”
The man bit his lip, preparing the dullest, most informal voice he could pull off. “A number of questions will be put to you,” he began. “Please answer the questions without hesitation. Please be explicit in your elaboration. Provide a straightforward and unembellished version of the truth.”
“Anyone for Twister?”
The conference team ignored the Doctor, and envied the Cyberman who was apparently unfazed by having the Doctor’s voice transmitted from its heart.
“Clear your minds,” instructed the man. “Then place your questions in them. One question per participant. The questions will be gathered through our psychic filter and put to the Doctor in turn and anomalously.”
All those present closed their eyes, shut out their vision sensors, or did whatever it was to enter the realm of thought.
“All questions have been gathered. The first is…” The man held up a tablet device and squinted at the list of items on the agenda. “Does anyone on Trenzalore know your name?”
Back in his cell, the Doctor focused. The extrapolation of the truth field won’t be as strong as the original – it can’t be. You can use that to your advantage. He forced his mind to concentrate on the facts. Clara had been to Trenzalore – she knew his name. She’d return one day, with him. She’d both been to Trenzalore and would come back. The Doctor cleared his throat and focused on that twisted logic.
“Yes.”
The alliance exchanged looks of terror. If every heartbeat in the room could have been heard at that one moment, there would have been a cacophony of percussion.
“Please state the name of the individual who possesses this information.”
The Doctor bit his tongue to stop him answering on compulsion. He thought of Clara’s name. He couldn’t remember her middle name. No name had been specified by the man, and by the Doctor’s logic he was asking for a full name.
“I don’t know the name,” responded the Doctor. He smiled, knowing he wasn’t being filmed. He’d always been good at manipulating the truth.
“We’ll have to move straight onto the next question,” said the man as emotionlessly as ever, scrolling down the screen on his tablet. “This question came up several times – in fact, 70% of participants asked it. The question is: why?”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
“Why did you choose to protect the townspeople of Trenzalore?”
“Well, my motor’s run off.”
There was a pause. The participants exchanged underwhelmed glances.
“Are there any other reasons?”
“Yes.” There was another pause; a smothering silence of anticipation. “You only had to ask. I don’t need a truth field or a holding cell to tell you the truth because here it is. Here is the reason why I’ve really stayed on Trenzalore.”
Christmas, Trenzalore
Archie carefully tuned the radio, keeping the door of the clock tower closed. He listened in through the white noise and adjusted the dial slowly and warily.
“I don’t need… or a hold…”
He turned the dial again, noticing as he did the wrinkles crease on his hand when it moved. He was starting to get old. He’d been too busy to notice.
“…truth because here it is.”
Archie smiled in satisfaction. He was effectively tuned-in; able to hear everything. The reason why he’d chosen to do this, however, was unclear even to him. He wondered, for one deadly moment, whether it was out of care towards the Doctor, but quickly dismissed that thought. Then something truly unexpected came out of the radio, unquestionably from the Doctor’s voice. Something that made Archibald Sawyer’s mind whir furiously in curiosity.
“Here is the reason why I’ve really stayed on Trenzalore.”
Holding Facility – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
“Here is the reason why I’ve really stayed on Trenzalore.”
The Doctor sighed, frustrated by his enemies’ emotional ignorance. Anyone would have thought the real reason was obvious – he was the Doctor, after all, and they all knew him.
“Christmas,” he began. “It’s a story that goes back a long way. True? I don’t have a right to say. No one does. It’s a beautiful idea, and it’s what people believe. And that idea goes back to long before Christmas – it goes back to paradise, to a garden called Eden where the earliest of beings played together, exposed, without shame. To a time where sin was just an idea and the only thing that stood in their way was temptation.” The Doctor snapped out of his dream. “I never believed that idea. I thought it was stupid. But now things have changed – I think I’ve found Eden, and I’ve found it here.” He looked to the dull, damp cell floor, trying to see through it and return to the world he’d left. “When you look down to the planet below you see the most dangerous thing in the universe. You see a battleground, and you see a list of the dead. That’s not what I see every day when I step upstairs for that precious sunrise. I see a town named after the universe’s most recognised Day of Peace. I see a community where not one person can ever tell a lie. Where there are no secrets, and no history to be ashamed of. A town that can be proud of its heritage but doesn’t proclaim itself for fear of vanity. A town that’s only discovered a word for war because of me being there, and a town where every person sees the world from each other’s eyes, and is as symbolically exposed as a human being can ever be. Why did I stay on Trenzalore?” He smiled. “I don’t need to tell you that. The bigger question is this: why do you want to kill them?”
Conference Room – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
“Have you considered,” started one human representative, breaking the silence, “that we should perhaps be considering the humaneness of our exploits here? Perhaps if-“
The room erupted. The human shrunk as he was crushed by the heckling voices around him.
“SILENCE!” cried out the man at the front of the table. “These issues can be debated at a later date; however, it remains highly unlikely, judging by the reaction, that any of our policies will be changed. Are there any more questions?”
Christmas, Trenzalore
Archie shook his head, wishing there'd been another way.
Not now Archie. Don’t change your mind now.
He was awoken by a knock at the door.
“Hello? Sheriff?” It was Marta, owner of the Christmas pub. She carried a lantern and wore funereal attire. “I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s April, your daughter. She appears to have gone missing.”
Archie turned away from the time crack, the light from behind him turning his body into an ominous silhouette.
“What?”
***
“The last we saw of her was during the Sontaran invasion. She disappeared in this spot.”
The footprints were April’s – Archie recognised them. The people of Christmas kept their shoes and it snowed day on day; they even became accustomed to each other’s footsteps.
“They’re hers,” he said, with a hint of defeat.
“What are you thinking?” probed Marta.
“I’m thinking that I gave the Doctor to the Cybermen and that they could be involved in this,” began Archie. “I’m thinking it’s all my fault and wishing I hadn’t started this in the first place.”
“How could you?” burst out Marta. “We loved the Doctor.”
“I did it for you,” pleaded Archie. “I thought it was the right thing-“
“The Doctor was all we had! Now what are we meant to do?” She kicked the snow, thinking of solutions. “These Cybermen, can you speak to them again? Contact them?”
Archie considered.
“Yes. I can use the radio I hacked.”
“The Cybermen lied to you through the radio,” clarified Marta. “Make them come here. Then we can hear the real truth.”
Conference Room – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
“We also have the Doctor’s associate and the Sheriff’s daughter, a girl named April Sawyer,” explained the Cyberman. “She can be used as a bargaining chip if such a situation arises.”
“Hello?”
The voice came from the Cyberman’s chest. The man at the front of the table raised an eyebrow. The other participants expressed their bewilderment in whatever ways their alien conduct told them to.
“Hello, I’m Archie Sawyer and I’m trying to intercept this conference call. Sorry, I’m not too good with technology…”
“Identify the purpose of your interception,” growled the Cyberman.
“I’m here to ask for a meeting – in the village of Christmas. Send down whoever’s in charge. No funny business.”
The signal cut off.
A green woman turned to the man at the front of the table.
“What did you say your name was?”
The Papal Mainframe – Somewhere Above Trenzalore
Tasha lifted the incense from its shelf and inhaled briefly. She could already feel the momentary power of its scent. Placing it on her altar, she lit a match and closed her eyes.
“Smells nice.”
Tasha gasped and dropped the match. The fire-proof floor of the Papal Mainframe extinguished the fire immediately.
“Who are you?” Tasha felt around for something she could use as a weapon. She recognised the man who leant against her doorframe, but she couldn’t think how.
“Archibald Sawyer,” he began.
“Ah.” Tasha rested.
“My daughter’s been taken – and so has the Doctor.”
“The Doctor? Wait – who let you in?”
“Colonel Dorav. He used the iris recognition system.” Archie approached the altar and dumped a wrapped gift on it, assuming it as Tasha’s bed. “Little present to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“Something you haven’t done yet, but will do if you want to get the Doctor back. I need your help. I need you to help me do something impossible, Mother Superious. I need you to help me do something I’ve never seen done by anyone I know that defies all boundaries of plausible science.”
“What?”
“I need you to help me tell a lie.”
***
“You’re sure this will work?”
“Yes – but only once.” Tasha strapped Archie into the bed. He wondered why he had to be strapped in. As he moved his mouth he could feel the wires along his face.
“How can you do this?”
“I specialise in spiritual matters,” she replied flirtatiously. “Plugged into this machine, you’ll exist in two places at once. You can return to Christmas but your biology will respond to what’s happening here. Anything that happens to you in this room, you’ll feel. At the same time, you’ll also be unrestricted by the town’s truth field: you’ll be able to tell a lie, just as you would in here.”
“And they won’t be able to tell anything? They won’t be able to scan me or anything like that?”
“Absolutely not.” Tasha tightened the harness and finished adjusting the apparatus. “You will exist in two places at once – but only for one hour. Use your time wisely.”
Christmas, Trenzalore
The man trudged through the snow. He was an ordinary-looking man with ordinary clothes as Archie observed. A businessman; a kind of straightforward, nothing-to-hide businessman who was always working yet had no impact on the world. But there was something about him…
“Mr. Artifice,” he said, offering a handshake in introduction. “Where are the rest of the village?”
“Sleeping,” murmured Archie with a menacing glare. “You have to tell the truth whilst you’re here, so tell me – where is my daughter?”
“She is being held in a holding facility above Trenzalore,” explained Artifice. “She will be used as a bargaining chip if necessary.”
“A bargain? Why would you need to bargain with us?”
“We have received intelligence that someone in this town possesses the key to summoning the Time Lords.”
“The Doctor’s name? Yes. I do,” lied Archie, feeling a tingle of regret. Is that what lying feels like?
The man was taken aback. “Do you intend to expose this information?”
“No – if you play by my rules.” Archie glowered. “Teleport the Doctor and April here within the next minute, or I will reveal his name.”
“We can’t-“
“Tasha has weakened the force-field enough to allow then through,” promised Archie. Fifty seconds, or I reveal the name. Forty-seven…”
“Bring them down within the next few seconds,” commanded Artifice through the intercom.
“That’s better,” said Archie. “Forty… thirty-nine…” He lifted his watch.
“Come on,” urged Artifice to himself. “Summon them.” He felt a sudden palpitation. Strange. His senses were overwhelming him in an unusual way. He felt… queasy…
“Five,” continued Archie, “four… three… two…”
He was stopped by a flash of blue light. The Doctor and April emerged, weary and ragged.
“Archie…” The Doctor stepped back.
“Hold on,” interjected Artifice, holding onto his heart. “I just think that I feel… whoa…” He fell to the ground as ringing filled his ears. “Can someone…”
“What’s his name?” asked the Doctor, confused.
“Mr. Artifice,” replied Archie.
“Well, Artifice… trick… illusion.” The Doctor’s heart sunk. “And you told them the shields were weakened.”
Suddenly, Artifice’s chest opened up as his eyes closed for the final time. A wide beam of light, like the teleport, flooded out of his chest and covered the landscapes. The shapes of shadows formed a deeper blue in this light, until more emerged.
Dozens of them.
Cybermen.
Abruptly, they started moving, lifting their arms and firing bolts of energy across the village. Some blasted through windows, knocking villagers aside.
“The population will be converted!” instructed the leader. The Cybermen spread out to surround the Doctor and Archie.
“Stop!” bellowed Archie. “I’ll reveal the name! I’ll do it!”
A Cyberman shot at Archie, hitting his arm. Archie continued shouting at them, unfazed by his injury.
“Archie…” observed the Doctor. “You should have felt that.”
“I’m hooked up to the Papal Mainframe,” he whispered. “It’s so that I can lie, but my senses are fully directed to there.”
“Nice thinking,” admired the Doctor, almost forgetting the Cyberman invasion happening around him. April dived in the way to move the Doctor.
“Thanks!” yelped the Doctor.
“Move, you idiot!” cried April. “Am I going to be as bad as you two when I get old?”
“Hopefully not!” called the Doctor. “I’ll probably have to put up with it!”
“I’ll do it! I’ll reveal his name!”
A Cyberman stopped firing and turned to Archie.
“Confirm!”
The Papal Mainframe, Somewhere Above Trenzalore
Tasha watched footage of the battle below, lifting another match and preparing to light it. She paused, realising the incense would probably send Archie to sleep mid-battle. Another shadow appeared in the doorway, but this one was different. It was rigid, wrong.
It was a metal man.
“The apparatus has been discovered as expected.”
“Who are you?” asked Tasha, looking for something that she could use as a weapon.
“I am a Cyberman.”
“Who let you in here?”
“Colonel Dorav. He used the iris recognition system.” The Cyberman opened its palm, revealing a slimy eyeball dangling from a long string of flesh. Tasha felt sick. The eye looked at her, pleadingly, as if it were still alive.
The Cyberman raised its arm and fired at the mechanism holding Archie. Sparks flew off it and the system died.
Christmas, Trenzalore
“Confirm!” bellowed the Cyberman.
Archie stopped. Don’t speak. Can’t speak. Mustn’t speak. He felt like himself again. But… that was bad.
“Negative,” he whispered. “I don’t know his name.” He fell to the ground, holding at his throat.
“Archie, what is it?” urged the Doctor. Archie choked, holding onto his throat.
The Papal Mainframe, Somewhere Above Trenzalore
The Cyberman kept its grip on Archie’s throat. The grip grew tighter and tighter, until…
It was pulled back, suddenly, spinning across the room and smashing into the wall. The programmed injury receptors alerted themselves repeatedly. It tried to move but felt itself secured by rope. Tasha guided the rope, seductively turning with it. She kicked open the doors to her room and guided the tied-up Cyberman out, slinging it over the side of the walkway. It fell into the abyss. Tasha returned coldly to her room and picked up the intercom.
“Colonel Dorav of the Papal Mainframe, deceased at 19:05.” She felt a lump in her throat and choked on her words. “The relevant afterlives will be notified.”
Christmas, Trenzalore
Archie stood up, loosening the grip on his throat.
“It’s stopped,” he panted. “It’s stopped…”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” pointed out the Doctor with maximum cynicism. “The Cybermen never stop…”
They looked around. Being a snowy town, Christmas was often silent, but this silence was different. It was brooding. Several bodies scattered the snow leaving marks like snow angels. Archie recognised a few – Holly, the librarian, and, devastatingly, Abramal. His eyes were wide open, still reeling from the crushing shock of death. Marta leant over his body sobbing into a handkerchief. Archie turned away as a mark of respect.
The Cybermen, meanwhile, stood there. Upright, ardent, proud and frozen to the spot like soldiers waiting for commands.
“What are they waiting for?” murmured the Doctor.
Unexpectedly, the Cybermen shot up into the sky. They exploded in a boom that shock the entire town, then formed an ill-omened black cloud.
It started to rain.
It rained heavy, black droplets which turned the faces of the dead to metal.
The others fell away, running this way and that for cover. Marta stayed by her husband, feeling her hands turn to metal as they touched his transforming face.
“They’re converting them!” cried the Doctor. “Every last one of them. Everyone, get inside! The buildings will hold the pollen for now!”
“Pollen?!” exclaimed April.
“At a guess! Trust me; whatever it is, you don’t want to get caught under it.” The Doctor led Archie and April into the clock tower.
“Archie, you were listening in to the conference; I heard you. You communicated through the Cyberman’s chest. How did you do it?”
“I just tuned this into the right frequency,” explained Archie, picking up the radio. “It works both ways; I got it from passing travellers. Never knew how it worked…”
“It’s transmitted and translated through the Cyberman’s central processing unit,” elucidated the Doctor. “And, potentially, a hive-mind. The Cybermen are linked into the entire system, I’m sure of it. It’s how they’ve had a tactical advantage this whole time; they’ve wired themselves into every single network around Trenzalore. If we can use this radio to transmit a signal…”
“Could we transmit one strong enough to kill them, though?” questioned Archie. “It would need to be supersonic.”
“Supersonic?” The Doctor grinned, whipping out his sonic screwdriver. “Super-sonic!” His face fell. “If I do this, it will kill everyone here who’s been converted. Your townspeople. Your friends.” He turned to Archie. “Sheriff – may I?”
“I…”
“I’m sorry, Archie. I’m going to have to press you for an answer. The rain’s coming through.”
“No.”
Archie sat down on the rocking-chair, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I can’t- I promised them, I…”
“Archie, it’s-“
April snatched the radio from the Doctor. “It’s my town,” she interrupted. “It will be my town. One day he’ll die and I’ll make the decisions. It’s my future.” She nodded to the Doctor, handing back the radio. “Do it.”
The Doctor nodded, a sickening feeling building up in his stomach. He cast a look over at Archie. Archie nodded too.
“Here we go.”
The signal was unnoticeable at first, then it grew. A sound so loud and crippling that it was silent. Waves formed in their vision and their heads felt light. Then the sound eased off, slowly, as it returned to their frequency and ended on a whimper of a diminuendo.
“Did it work?” asked Archie.
“Let’s take a look.”
The Doctor ran outside. The rain had stopped.
“The Cybermites in the pollen have been deactivated.” He grimaced at the bodies strewn across the snow. “It worked.”
“And me? I was plugged into Tasha Lem’s bed, then something happened and I was here again. Am I still up there? What happened?”
“I don’t have a clue, to be honest,” replied the Doctor unhelpfully. “Tasha separated your body into two places. Maybe it’s all returned here. Still, whatever she did, you’ll probably work it out soon enough.”
“Mystery, lies and death.” April bowed her head dutifully. “What a Christmas.”
“I have developed a fault.” The Doctor’s interest was piqued by the voice from within the clock tower. He disappeared for a few moments, returning with the robot head under his arm.
“There’s no getting rid of this one.” He smiled a sad smile.
***
Archie placed the picture on the wall in pride of place. Just behind the bar – it was complete now. Decorations to withstand the effects of the whole year and one splendid framed photograph of Abramal and Marta. It would always be their pub, and now every drinker could look them in the eye as they smiled innocuously back. That was immortality.
“What can I get you?” asked Archie as the Doctor took a seat on one of the barstools. The bar was practically empty. The townspeople were all in their own homes, occupied by their own, sorrowful things.
“Hot chocolate,” requested the Doctor. “Do you have any marshmallows?”
Archie shook his head.
“Hmm…” the Doctor stared up contemplatively at the photo-frame. “We definitely need to find a way of getting marshmallows here. But I’ll have cream, please.”
Archie reluctantly added the cream.
“And some sprinkles of chocolate.”
Archie sprinkled chocolate over the cream, trying to hold back stifled laughter.
“There it is.” The Doctor grinned. “A smile. I could see one coming.”
“Why am I smiling?” asked Archie. “I feel guilty about smiling.”
“Don’t. Always smile at Christmas. And it’s always Christmas.” He held up his hot chocolate. “Cheers.” He sipped through the cream.
“Sheriff,” stated Archie.
“Mm.” The Doctor put the hot chocolate down. A cream moustache sat cheekily on his upper lip. Archie pointed it out discreetly and the Doctor licked it off. “Yes you are, Archibald Sawyer. I misjudged you. You’re the best sheriff in town, and you always will be.”
“No.” Archie poured himself some mulled wine. “You insulted me. You undermined my authority. You took over this town.” He stared into the wine sadly, removing his sheriff’s badge. “You’re the sheriff, Doctor. No hiding it now. You’re better than I am, and I think…” He looked the Doctor in the eye. “I think I hated that.” He passed the badge to the Doctor. It felt heavy in his hands. “This bar needs a new owner. You think you’ve got a legacy to live up to…” He gestured to the picture of Abramal and Marta.
The Doctor secured his badge.
“It’s going to go on – this war, I mean. More people will die.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Sure you want to stay? It will hurt. There will be losses. There’s nothing wrong with-“
“No,” decided Archie. “And that’s final. I’m not cut out to be a wartime sheriff but that doesn’t end my commitment to this town. I’ll be in here when things get tough, when things go well. I’ll be here for the celebrations, I’ll be here for the wakes. I’ll be here for the lonely late-night mothers mourning their sons. And I won’t ever stop.”
The Doctor replied with an understanding nod.
“Besides, April’s here. Hey, I think she’d make a great deputy.”
“She already is,” confirmed the Doctor. “I’ll keep her safe for you Archie.”
“Then let’s make the most of it.” Archie raised his glass. “All of us, together, just this once. Alive. In Dulci Jubilo, as they used to say of Christmas.”
The Doctor raised his mug. The cream had started to sink in.
“In Dulci Jubilo.”
TRENZALORE
WILL RETURN
NEXT YEAR
WILL RETURN
NEXT YEAR