Prologue
Galactic Federation, Wednesday 23rd October, 1,000,000 (human calendar)
“This Parliament of the Galactic Federation is now in session,” the speaker called, waving a tentacle in the air. The member for Xothemi B took his seat, and switched on the translation matrix in his ears. He sat back, and looked up at the speaker, who sat back down at the top. The Galactic Federation parliament building was the same as most other parliament buildings to ever exist; an almighty chamber, with several circular tiers of seats on top of each other. Xothemi B, being a sparsely populated planet, had only one member. However, many worlds had up to a thousand members, all contributing to the grand total of 572,638 elected representatives of the federation.
“Today, we announce the results of the vote on the current crisis being experienced by several systems within our union. I would like to invite Zethi Pink, leader of the federation members for the Empire. Speak now.”
“Thank you.” She stood up. The Empire commanded a lot of the galactic federation, due to its gigantic size. “The Emperor was consulted on the decisions made here today, along with the parliament of the Empire itself. A vote was held, and the Emperor agreed to take on the decision made by the representatives, elected by the people of all planets associated with the Emperor. The Empire has decided that it will not be part of the recovery program.”
As Pink paused for breath, gasps erupted across the hall. If the Empire chose not to, it would be a reflection of the decision the federation would finally take.
“The Empire understands the increased tensions, and the colossal threat of a war, should the tensions lead to a conflict. However, as of now, it is of our belief that it would not be the correct decision to make for the people of the Empire. Already we find ourselves under strain due to severe economic issues caused by the shutdown of some of our most profitable scientific research companies following the revelations that they were conducting experiments in a dangerous and illegal manner. As we begin our economic recovery, it is impossible for us to contribute the resources needed for the recovery plan. That is all we have to say at this time. Thank you.”
As she sat down, the gasps heard previously were a mere whisper compared to the shouts and cries that followed. At least 400,000 members were calling out at once in protest of the Empire’s decision, the remaining 100,000 being the representatives of the Empire itself.
“Order!” the speaker cried impartially, though the increased amount of perspiration on its bulbous forehead made its position obvious. “The decision of the members for the Empire must be respected. Their decision has been noted and counted. We will now move on and continue to hear the voices of all member planets and systems.”
The member for Xothemi B sighed, then sat back. It was going to be a long night and he just wanted his coffee.
“This Parliament of the Galactic Federation is now in session,” the speaker called, waving a tentacle in the air. The member for Xothemi B took his seat, and switched on the translation matrix in his ears. He sat back, and looked up at the speaker, who sat back down at the top. The Galactic Federation parliament building was the same as most other parliament buildings to ever exist; an almighty chamber, with several circular tiers of seats on top of each other. Xothemi B, being a sparsely populated planet, had only one member. However, many worlds had up to a thousand members, all contributing to the grand total of 572,638 elected representatives of the federation.
“Today, we announce the results of the vote on the current crisis being experienced by several systems within our union. I would like to invite Zethi Pink, leader of the federation members for the Empire. Speak now.”
“Thank you.” She stood up. The Empire commanded a lot of the galactic federation, due to its gigantic size. “The Emperor was consulted on the decisions made here today, along with the parliament of the Empire itself. A vote was held, and the Emperor agreed to take on the decision made by the representatives, elected by the people of all planets associated with the Emperor. The Empire has decided that it will not be part of the recovery program.”
As Pink paused for breath, gasps erupted across the hall. If the Empire chose not to, it would be a reflection of the decision the federation would finally take.
“The Empire understands the increased tensions, and the colossal threat of a war, should the tensions lead to a conflict. However, as of now, it is of our belief that it would not be the correct decision to make for the people of the Empire. Already we find ourselves under strain due to severe economic issues caused by the shutdown of some of our most profitable scientific research companies following the revelations that they were conducting experiments in a dangerous and illegal manner. As we begin our economic recovery, it is impossible for us to contribute the resources needed for the recovery plan. That is all we have to say at this time. Thank you.”
As she sat down, the gasps heard previously were a mere whisper compared to the shouts and cries that followed. At least 400,000 members were calling out at once in protest of the Empire’s decision, the remaining 100,000 being the representatives of the Empire itself.
“Order!” the speaker cried impartially, though the increased amount of perspiration on its bulbous forehead made its position obvious. “The decision of the members for the Empire must be respected. Their decision has been noted and counted. We will now move on and continue to hear the voices of all member planets and systems.”
The member for Xothemi B sighed, then sat back. It was going to be a long night and he just wanted his coffee.
The Eighth Doctor Adventures
Series 4 - Episode 6
The Zygon Missile Crisis
Written by peter darwin
The White House - Tuesday 16th October, 1962
By now, the President would’ve given up if he hadn’t been used to the early starts. He was used to being woken up in the middle of the night, and used to kicking his brain into gear – but whatever this was, his staff had chosen to leave it until the morning. It meant he’d got a good night’s sleep (as good a night’s sleep as he usually got nowadays). It did fill him with a strange sense of dread – it may not have been urgent enough for a midnight awakening, but the fact that the briefing had been left until the time of the President’s awakening made him wonder whether they wanted him in a fit enough state to make some kind of important decision. After tidying himself up, they’d led him down to the Oval Office.
“Mr President, the national security adviser is waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
His staff waited outside, and the President stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His security advisor waited for him.
“Mr President, good morning,” the advisor sat on the couch, hunched over a series of pictures on the coffee table.
“Good morning, Mr Bundy. What’s the situation?”
“You’ll want to see these photographs, Mr President.”
The President took a seat opposite Mr Bundy and looked at the photos. “From the U2 aircraft, yes?”
“Medium range ballistic missiles,” Bundy said. “Stationed in Cuba.”
“Capable of destroying us, I presume?”
“Certainly.”
“Summon ExComm.”
“Yes, Mr President.”
The TARDIS (somewhere around Tuesday 16th October, 1962)
“London!” the Doctor grinned that grin, the sort of grin that looks like it’s trying to convey a particularly dull idea in an exciting fashion.
“…London.” Jasmine repeated – not that she was disappointed, London was lovely.
“Yes!”
“I’m well aware of it.”
“Yes, but this is London in 1962. Lovely place.”
“Well… I know it exists.”
“As do I – but it doesn’t mean I’ve seen them.”
“Except in your case-”
“Yes, in my case, I probably have.”
“So, any particular reason or…?” Jasmine asked, thinking it was probably just a bit out of the blue.
“I’ve spotted a distress signal. Also, I’ve got my eye on a book.”
“Oh dear. And have you got anything in mind, book-wise?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. But it’s rare, and I’ve tracked down a copy. It’s in a bookshop – a bookshop in London, 1962,” the Doctor reached over and pulled on his jacket, before walking over to the doors and pushing them open.
The weather wasn’t good, and a drizzle, closer to the stormy end of the scale than the showers end, lashed down from the sky. The Doctor leaned out and glanced up, to see the giant stone archway at the entrance of Hyde Park towering over them. He grimaced at the unforgiving deluge, and turned back in to the TARDIS, grabbing an umbrella from behind the door. Jasmine stepped forward and they linked arms, before the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and opened the umbrella.
“You could’ve picked a day with better weather.” Jasmine huddled under the umbrella, still susceptible to a small trickle of water dripping off the brim. A bright red bus sped past, spattering them in droplets of water.
“Weather… it’s all relative. I could step in to the TARDIS and come back again, and the sun would be shining. Different time streams.”
They spotted an abandoned newspaper on a nearby bench, and Jasmine herded the Doctor over.
“Let’s see what’s going on in the world.” She picked it up. It was soaked through, and could’ve easily fallen apart in her hands. “Oh, you timed this well.”
“Yes?”
Jasmine showed him the newspaper.
“Oh.” He looked at it. “I must be getting old.”
“22nd October 1962. President Kennedy’s address to America.”
“The Cuban Missile Crisis… and we’re right on the edge of it. The warmest the Cold War gets. 1962, the year that humanity gets closest to destroying itself. But everything else is just so beautiful. And this is coming from an alien,” the Doctor and Jasmine had left the newspaper behind, and were continuing on their quest to find the book the Doctor wanted. “Humanity on the brink – you don’t reach these heights very often. I don’t just mean your attempts at complete destruction, but everything. 1962, the early years of the Beatles. Give it a few months and they’ll be the biggest band in the world. Bond films!”
“Miniskirts…”
“I was here, for a while.”
“Wait – now?”
“No, no. Years ago. Well, for me, years ago. Though, I’m not actually here yet, I arrive in a few months.”
As confusing as it was, Jasmine just took it on the chin.
“Somewhere in that direction,” he pointed. “There’s a junkyard. Soon, there’ll be a little blue box.”
“How old were you?”
“Oh, I was young. So young. It was the whole reason I got started.”
“That you got started travelling?”
“Well, obviously I’d done some travelling. But it was here I met Ian and Barbara, and so I took them with me, alongside my granddaughter. And then before that, there was Kathleen, but that was a more complicated business”
Jasmine thought about that briefly. “Do you have a family?”
“Yes. Somewhere out there.”
“You don’t talk about them often.”
“I don’t have a reason to.” The Doctor came across as more aggressive than he meant to, and instantly regretted it.
“Fine.”
“Sorry. No – Susan is happy, and that’s what matters.”
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You had every right to. Anyway – where was I? Oh yes, the 60s. You’ve got to love the 60s...”
***
The Doctor, who was rather good at mastering the movement where one steps into a building with an umbrella and manages to close it at the same time, shook the rainwater off and entered the bookshop. Jasmine, checking to make sure there was nobody around to look at her, sniffed, inhaling that bookish smell, of old parchments pressed close together, crammed even closer on the shelves. The Doctor made his way past her, almost robotically tracking the mysterious publication. He played a quick scale on an old antique piano, antique tomes piled on top of it, and continued on his way. Jasmine watched, bemused at how somebody could get their fingers to work at such speed and with such dexterity, and pondering how Autumn could ever do anything like that. The Doctor eventually seemed to find his book, and took it from the shelves, flicking through the pages.
“Yes… this is the one.”
“What is it?”
“The Great Adventures of Inspector Perry. Seriously, it’s a great read. I had to study it for my 51st century literature exam. Inspector Perry, the great detective. The second Sherlock Holmes,” the Doctor passed her the book to have a look at.
“Why is it here, then? Is literature relative as well?”
“The author was a time traveller, spent a lot of time in 20th century London. The main character is a time traveller as well.”
“Based on a true story,” Jasmine read aloud. “I wonder which one.”
“Yeah…” the Doctor murmured.
***
The café they’d decided on was a quiet tearoom, and the Doctor and Jasmine sat by the window, looking out onto the street. People bustled past in their mackintoshes and umbrellas, but still tried to make sure they pinched the side of the pavement underneath the shop awnings. Jasmine gently sipped her tea, while the Doctor flicked through his book.
“I should do this more often,” the Doctor said.
“It’s not very you.”
“Who’s to say it couldn’t be, though? One day, when the monsters don’t need stopping, and Gallifrey have had enough of me, this could be me. Bookshops and teashops.”
Jasmine nodded. “It’d be heaven. And you could leave your home, just like that?”
“Well, it’s home, after all. It always will be. No… I am, to them, the outsider. Myself and the Master, we’re the black sheep of the family. I left their society and I don’t particularly like it, either. It’s just a society for the gods, half the time. The high-up presidents and vice presidents will give their orders and commands, and it’ll be others who pay the price. I don’t want to be there when it happens. I don’t want to be known for that.”
“When you put it like that, then yes. I think this is much more you.”
“I will retire, eventually. For now, however, I have somebody I need to see. Somebody who is already retired.”
“Who?”
“I said I wanted this book. What I really want is the author.”
***
The Doctor knocked on the door of the Mayfair house.
“Top end of the Monopoly board,” Jasmine acknowledged. The door opened automatically, and Jasmine giggled.
“What?”
“Sorry. It’s so clichéd,” she laughed. The Doctor stepped inside, negotiating his way over a pile of newspapers on the way in. The hallway stretched onwards, and a set of stairs led to the first floor. What struck Jasmine was the stuff. It was a plethora of everything, with books and ornaments and then other, slightly weird possessions such as old computers from the far future, and bundles of cabling.
“Doctor?” a voice called from the living room. The Doctor and Jasmine stepped inside. The room was dark, and as before, filled with antiques from the past and the future. Then, against the wall, was a writing table. A pot of ink sat on top, and hunched over it was a skeleton of a man.
“Girish.”
“My full title, please.”
“Dr Siddiqui.”
“Doctor. How are you?”
“I’m alright,” the Doctor went over and drew back the curtains, letting the sun shine through the windows. The man hissed and turned away from the light.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Jasmine asked the Doctor.
“Jasmine, this is Dr Siddiqui. He wrote the book I was after. We need his help with the distress signal. He monitors the entire planet.”
“Oh? Need my help, do you? And I’m glad you’ve found a copy of the novel. I’m rather excited about hearing your thoughts.”
“I think we both know who Inspector Perry was based on.”
“Ever since your dear friend destroyed me – then yes.”
Jasmine knew who they were talking about, and they hadn’t even mentioned her name. The second Sherlock Holmes.
“Siddiqui ran the largest drug empire – well, the largest drug empire in the Empire for nigh on twenty years. Nobody could catch him until Autumn came along. She took it all apart.”
“And I went to prison for life,” Siddiqui giggled.
“Except he didn’t, because he bribed his way out. Designed a cure for spetrox toxaemia after a plague threatened to wipe out the Capital – he said he’d only do it if his release was guaranteed.”
“I retired and started writing books about a great inspiration of mine. The only person to ever outsmart me. I thought London 1962 looked nice, but I arrived and I got bricks through the window. Blatant racism – justice system aside, there were merits to the Empire, in the form of its liberalities.”
Jasmine didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t get her head around the fact that this shrivelled old man had once been the greatest drug lord in the Empire.
“Siddiqui, have you picked it up?”
“The signal?”
“Yes.”
“I have. I can’t track what sort of craft it’s from or the species, but I’ve picked it up and approximated the area. Surprisingly, Doctor, I think this could stretch further than that.”
“What is it?”
“History is about to change.”
“Oh?”
“Nuclear weapons testing on British soil.”
“Something we didn’t do,” Jasmine interrupted.
“Miss Sparks knows her history. She’s right, at this time, there should not be nuclear testing on British soil. It does not add up. It’s not just a small, 20th century reactor either – I scanned the output, it was colossal! Bigger than any technology this planet should be able to create.”
“I’ll go and have a look.”
“I want to track down the distress signal,” Jasmine said.
The Doctor looked at her and smiled. “Why not, eh? Always wanting to help anyone who needs it.”
Jasmine was flattered, and didn’t know what to say to him.
***
The rain had since started again, and the Doctor made his way along the pavement, umbrella open. The building was, on the surface, a normal terraced house. He walked up the steps and rang the bell. A rather large amount of time lapsed, before eventually, they heard a lock click, and the door opened.
“Hello!” said the Doctor. “I’m the Minister for Science, here to see a Dr Francis Bennett?”
The young woman who stood in the doorway looked at him briefly. “Yes sir. If you’d like to follow me.”
It looked like a perfectly normal house from here as well. There was a wireless on the cabinet, and he could hear the ‘BBC voice’ of the presenter, talking about something to do with missiles.
“- and from the speech that President Kennedy made earlier, it is understood that diplomatic relations with the USSR will progress as planned –”
“Sorry,” the Doctor asked. “What goes on here, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“You’re the Minister for Science? I thought the government were briefed on the situation,” she smiled.
“No. I’m new, it’s my first day.”
“This is the Mosquito Project,” the young woman said. “I’m only the secretary, not responsible for anything other than the admin, I’m afraid. Dr Bennett is the real scientific brains you’ll want to speak to. And do you have a background in science, Doctor…”
“Oh, the Doctor will do just fine.”
“Do you have a background in science, Doctor?”
“Yes, I suppose I do. I haven’t practised in years.”
“No, when one takes up governmental roles, they tend to forget their roots,” the woman was leading them down a set of steps.
“Why does it look like a house?” he asked. “Surely there’s nothing to hide?”
“You really aren’t in the loop, are you? This is uncharted territory, as they say! Mr Macmillan has truly hit a new low, sending a minister in here without briefing them. I digress – instead of opening a new complex, it was decided to keep this project as secret as we possibly could.”
They arrived at the bottom of the steps – there was a door ahead of them. She slipped a key into a lock.
“Welcome,” she pushed the door open, “to the Mosquito project.”
The room was huge, and they stood on a balcony, looking down onto it. Scientists buzzed around the contraption in the centre – an almighty metal column, protruding from a disk-shaped device at the bottom. It reminded the Doctor of the TARDIS, with the hexagonal console and the rotor that jutted slightly out of the top.
“One day I might take architectural inspiration,” he said, admiring the column. “Anyway, this is a nuclear reactor.”
“Not just a nuclear reactor,” the secretary corrected him. “The most advanced nuclear reactor on the planet. It produces more energy that the sun, you know. But as I said, Dr Bennett is the one to talk to, I don’t understand it.”
“Ah, Miss Grant! Who are our visitors?”
The Doctor looked over to see Dr Bennett. His hair was smoothened and he donned a white lab coat, along with a pair of circular glasses.
“This is the Doctor, Minister for Science,” Miss Grant introduced them. “And Doctor, this is Dr Bennett. I should expect they’d like to hear a bit about the reactor, Dr Bennett.”
“Of course,” Dr Bennett agreed.
Soon, he was leading the Doctor down a switchback staircase, towards the core of the reactor below.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t say much with our secretary around. She could give anything away.”
“She didn’t seem like she cared,” the Doctor speculated, as they arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
“This is where we control the device,” Bennett lead them over to the control panel. “It could potentially power the country. And, of course, within the current climates, produce an atomic bomb.”
The Doctor nodded grimly, before trotting off on his own to go and look at the reactor.
Then, to Bennett's surprise, he came back over within an instant.
“Who designed this?”
“Well – I did,” Bennett said.
“When?”
“About a year ago, we’ve been in operation since then. Following governmental decisions that Britain shouldn’t be left unprotected, they commissioned me to design this.”
“Can you hunt me out the blueprints? I’d love to see them.”
“Of course,” and he disappeared back up the switchback staircase.
The Doctor sat back on a chair, and thought to himself. This cannot possibly exist. He’d seen this sort of technology before – millions of years in the future. The Doctor decided now would be a perfect opportunity to have a look around.
It did not take him long to find something interesting. After making his way back up the switchback stairs, around midway to the top he checked the coast was clear, before darting down a small side passageway. It didn’t seem to lead to anything, other than a door. Interestingly, the door was the same design as those from the house above – he’d seen it before, when people try to look so normal they look abnormal. He thought this was the case here. The Doctor tried the door, but with no luck, so peered through the keyhole, only to see darkness. So, attempting to remember all the tips he learnt from his days practising martial arts, he kicked the door with as much force as he could. The wood splintered, and the door flew open.
“Ow,” he murmured, though the pain was outweighed by delight. He was clearly out of practise. What he saw next was not an attempt to hide anything by making it more normal, it was just abnormal. A lift, a boring, shopping-centre or office block or car park lift. But instead of a control panel, there was something else. It must’ve been a sort of fungus, or organic material, in the spot where one would usually find the buttons.
“Oh… I think I know you.”
The Doctor, feeling very stupid, stroked the material, and the doors shut. Then he waited as the lift descended.
Not long after, the doors opened, and he stepped out onto a balcony. It struck the Doctor as being TARDIS-like, in that he could not see how this could be kept completely out of sight. It was a cavern. The walls were constructed of an orange, fleshy material. A distinct material. As he peered over the balcony, it stretched on beneath him for as far as he could see. Pods were embedded in to the walls, with little round holes, letting the Doctor see inside. Or letting them see out.
The Zygons. The Doctor had a hunch as soon as he saw the suspicious organic material growing out of the lift socket, and was almost certain when he saw the cavern, before becoming definitely sure when he saw the pods.
He’d expected something alien after seeing the nuclear reactor, but he didn’t expect anything on this scale. A quick (but very rough) calculation told him there must be at least a million Zygons here.
A million Zygons.
“Oh good go-” a voice practically yelled from behind him. The Doctor turned around and shushed Dr Bennett, who was looking about as pale as a corpse dipped in bleach three times over.
“Please be quiet,” the Doctor whispered, still afraid that there could be large numbers of blood-thirsty Zygons preparing to ensnare him at any moment.
“What on Earth is this place?” Bennett cried.
“The short answer, it’s a Zygon spaceship. The longer answer is, I don’t know, but I’m about to go and have a look-see and try and figure out what’s going on here.”
“What’s a Zi…,” Bennett’s voice just trailed away in despair as he glanced over the balcony at the sight beneath him.
“A shapeshifting alien from outer-space. They often migrate to different planets, you’ve probably already got a few living on Earth. But this is something else, this is an entire spaceship full. A spaceship buried beneath a volatile nuclear reactor that could be modified into a nuclear bomb at any moment, but still, not jumping to conclusions.”
“Oh my –”
“Yes. It is a bit of a shock.”
“What do they look like?”
“Not too different from you and I. Want to have a look?”
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
The Doctor led Bennett over to a pod, and told him to peer inside the window. Bennett did as he was told, before lurching backwards and wagging a finger at it as if it were some kind of naughty dog.
“It’s a real life alien! You said it wasn’t too different from you and me!”
“It isn’t. On Zygor they have houses, schools, hospitals. A way of life very much the same.”
Bennett stepped away, still shaking slightly. “Oh… well.”
“They still love, laugh, argue – all those other things we do. Anyway. Come on, I want to have a look around. See if I can find who’s in charge here.”
***
“Hello?”
Jasmine couldn’t hear a voice – instead, she could hear music. There was a pianist, and the most beautiful melody drifted throughout the empty halls of the gasworks. She recognised the track, and sang over a few notes in her head. She must’ve heard it from some advert or something. It was mesmerising to hear it brought to life, to not just hear numbers and numbers and reams of calculations relayed through a digital device, but to instead hear the life and the joy and the sadness emphasised through the live playing.
There had always been something quite special about live music.
She turned the corner, and she saw the piano, and the figure sat behind it. She moved gracefully as she placed, and Jasmine could see how the figure became almost part of the music in herself. They were alone in the centre of the hall, and the figure (who Jasmine had identified as a woman) played in the darkness.
Then she stopped suddenly.
“It’s beautiful,” Jasmine said.
“Who is it?”
“You sent out a distress signal. Well, I’m here to help.” Jasmine attempted to step towards the piano, but the woman shifted, as if to hide herself, so Jasmine held back.
“The signal is void. Irrelevant.”
“But you hide away out here, alone. I definitely believe you…”
“I was a child at the time. It’s okay now.”
“If you sent a distress single, then you’re not from Earth, are you?” Jasmine asked. “And besides – you wouldn’t be hiding out here if you were.”
“It is a dark world out there. The people fear, they fear so much – hiding would be understandable from anybody.”
“And if people took cover from a dark world all the time, they wouldn’t be living, would they? Where did you learn to play?”
“Back home. My mother played, and I had lessons, and, well, I became good. Obviously.”
“Home is?”
“Far away. Gone. It doesn’t matter now.”
Jasmine had slowly been walking around to her, and the woman didn’t move. She wore a plain black dress, that went down to just above the ankles, and a hat. It was very 60s, Jasmine noted, as if the woman were trying to make herself blend in.
“If it helps, I’m far away from home as well.”
Rather coincidentally, in that way that the narrative of a story will often produce objects in the hope of helping the story fall in to place, Jasmine spotted a chair, and pulled it over.
“You don’t seem to be.”
“Well, in a way, I’m not. I know London, but this is a different time. A whole different world in itself, really.”
“You came here from the future. Some kind of time travel device. Judging by the time period, at least – well, thousands of years.”
“I hitched a ride with somebody even farther from the future than me. I wanted to see the stars… well, originally I just wanted to know the answers, but then I ended up flying around in space. And here I am. Though it’s technically home, it’s… completely alien as well.”
“I think, unlike you, I did not come by choice.”
“Even so, you might as well make the most of it. You’ve not seen much of Earth, have you?” Jasmine asked the woman. “Oh – I nearly forgot. Do you have a name?”
“Mary.”
“Come on, Mary.”
“No.”
“Well – come on! It’s beautiful.”
“I like it here.”
“This is not the best Earth has got to offer. My name is Jasmine Sparks; I’m going to be your tour guide for today.”
Jasmine stood up. “Your emergency exits are here, here and here.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because we received your distress signal, and it’s not fair for you to be scared.”
***
“Of course, I bet they don’t even know what time they’ve arrived. But they’ve chosen the worst possible moment. Right now, the entirety of humanity is on a knife-edge. The two greatest superpowers on the planet, threatening to launch the world into complete, nuclear destruction. It’ll just – well, it’ll just make things worse.”
The Doctor and Bennett gradually made their way through the spaceship, eyes open in case they spotted anything interesting. The walkway spiralled down, and the Doctor decided that they might as well follow it.
“You seemed remarkably calm. Have you met aliens before?” Bennett asked him.
“Yes. Many times. I am one.”
“You… are?”
“Not all aliens are Zygons, Bennett.”
“And – I mean, what do you think they want to do to us? I don’t know, I’ve read the science-fiction, are they going to kill us or probe us or –”
“Probe you,” the Doctor laughed. “Again. Not all aliens. Yes, they could be here to destroy you all, but who knows? Not me, not yet.”
By now, the President would’ve given up if he hadn’t been used to the early starts. He was used to being woken up in the middle of the night, and used to kicking his brain into gear – but whatever this was, his staff had chosen to leave it until the morning. It meant he’d got a good night’s sleep (as good a night’s sleep as he usually got nowadays). It did fill him with a strange sense of dread – it may not have been urgent enough for a midnight awakening, but the fact that the briefing had been left until the time of the President’s awakening made him wonder whether they wanted him in a fit enough state to make some kind of important decision. After tidying himself up, they’d led him down to the Oval Office.
“Mr President, the national security adviser is waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
His staff waited outside, and the President stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His security advisor waited for him.
“Mr President, good morning,” the advisor sat on the couch, hunched over a series of pictures on the coffee table.
“Good morning, Mr Bundy. What’s the situation?”
“You’ll want to see these photographs, Mr President.”
The President took a seat opposite Mr Bundy and looked at the photos. “From the U2 aircraft, yes?”
“Medium range ballistic missiles,” Bundy said. “Stationed in Cuba.”
“Capable of destroying us, I presume?”
“Certainly.”
“Summon ExComm.”
“Yes, Mr President.”
The TARDIS (somewhere around Tuesday 16th October, 1962)
“London!” the Doctor grinned that grin, the sort of grin that looks like it’s trying to convey a particularly dull idea in an exciting fashion.
“…London.” Jasmine repeated – not that she was disappointed, London was lovely.
“Yes!”
“I’m well aware of it.”
“Yes, but this is London in 1962. Lovely place.”
“Well… I know it exists.”
“As do I – but it doesn’t mean I’ve seen them.”
“Except in your case-”
“Yes, in my case, I probably have.”
“So, any particular reason or…?” Jasmine asked, thinking it was probably just a bit out of the blue.
“I’ve spotted a distress signal. Also, I’ve got my eye on a book.”
“Oh dear. And have you got anything in mind, book-wise?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. But it’s rare, and I’ve tracked down a copy. It’s in a bookshop – a bookshop in London, 1962,” the Doctor reached over and pulled on his jacket, before walking over to the doors and pushing them open.
The weather wasn’t good, and a drizzle, closer to the stormy end of the scale than the showers end, lashed down from the sky. The Doctor leaned out and glanced up, to see the giant stone archway at the entrance of Hyde Park towering over them. He grimaced at the unforgiving deluge, and turned back in to the TARDIS, grabbing an umbrella from behind the door. Jasmine stepped forward and they linked arms, before the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and opened the umbrella.
“You could’ve picked a day with better weather.” Jasmine huddled under the umbrella, still susceptible to a small trickle of water dripping off the brim. A bright red bus sped past, spattering them in droplets of water.
“Weather… it’s all relative. I could step in to the TARDIS and come back again, and the sun would be shining. Different time streams.”
They spotted an abandoned newspaper on a nearby bench, and Jasmine herded the Doctor over.
“Let’s see what’s going on in the world.” She picked it up. It was soaked through, and could’ve easily fallen apart in her hands. “Oh, you timed this well.”
“Yes?”
Jasmine showed him the newspaper.
“Oh.” He looked at it. “I must be getting old.”
“22nd October 1962. President Kennedy’s address to America.”
“The Cuban Missile Crisis… and we’re right on the edge of it. The warmest the Cold War gets. 1962, the year that humanity gets closest to destroying itself. But everything else is just so beautiful. And this is coming from an alien,” the Doctor and Jasmine had left the newspaper behind, and were continuing on their quest to find the book the Doctor wanted. “Humanity on the brink – you don’t reach these heights very often. I don’t just mean your attempts at complete destruction, but everything. 1962, the early years of the Beatles. Give it a few months and they’ll be the biggest band in the world. Bond films!”
“Miniskirts…”
“I was here, for a while.”
“Wait – now?”
“No, no. Years ago. Well, for me, years ago. Though, I’m not actually here yet, I arrive in a few months.”
As confusing as it was, Jasmine just took it on the chin.
“Somewhere in that direction,” he pointed. “There’s a junkyard. Soon, there’ll be a little blue box.”
“How old were you?”
“Oh, I was young. So young. It was the whole reason I got started.”
“That you got started travelling?”
“Well, obviously I’d done some travelling. But it was here I met Ian and Barbara, and so I took them with me, alongside my granddaughter. And then before that, there was Kathleen, but that was a more complicated business”
Jasmine thought about that briefly. “Do you have a family?”
“Yes. Somewhere out there.”
“You don’t talk about them often.”
“I don’t have a reason to.” The Doctor came across as more aggressive than he meant to, and instantly regretted it.
“Fine.”
“Sorry. No – Susan is happy, and that’s what matters.”
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You had every right to. Anyway – where was I? Oh yes, the 60s. You’ve got to love the 60s...”
***
The Doctor, who was rather good at mastering the movement where one steps into a building with an umbrella and manages to close it at the same time, shook the rainwater off and entered the bookshop. Jasmine, checking to make sure there was nobody around to look at her, sniffed, inhaling that bookish smell, of old parchments pressed close together, crammed even closer on the shelves. The Doctor made his way past her, almost robotically tracking the mysterious publication. He played a quick scale on an old antique piano, antique tomes piled on top of it, and continued on his way. Jasmine watched, bemused at how somebody could get their fingers to work at such speed and with such dexterity, and pondering how Autumn could ever do anything like that. The Doctor eventually seemed to find his book, and took it from the shelves, flicking through the pages.
“Yes… this is the one.”
“What is it?”
“The Great Adventures of Inspector Perry. Seriously, it’s a great read. I had to study it for my 51st century literature exam. Inspector Perry, the great detective. The second Sherlock Holmes,” the Doctor passed her the book to have a look at.
“Why is it here, then? Is literature relative as well?”
“The author was a time traveller, spent a lot of time in 20th century London. The main character is a time traveller as well.”
“Based on a true story,” Jasmine read aloud. “I wonder which one.”
“Yeah…” the Doctor murmured.
***
The café they’d decided on was a quiet tearoom, and the Doctor and Jasmine sat by the window, looking out onto the street. People bustled past in their mackintoshes and umbrellas, but still tried to make sure they pinched the side of the pavement underneath the shop awnings. Jasmine gently sipped her tea, while the Doctor flicked through his book.
“I should do this more often,” the Doctor said.
“It’s not very you.”
“Who’s to say it couldn’t be, though? One day, when the monsters don’t need stopping, and Gallifrey have had enough of me, this could be me. Bookshops and teashops.”
Jasmine nodded. “It’d be heaven. And you could leave your home, just like that?”
“Well, it’s home, after all. It always will be. No… I am, to them, the outsider. Myself and the Master, we’re the black sheep of the family. I left their society and I don’t particularly like it, either. It’s just a society for the gods, half the time. The high-up presidents and vice presidents will give their orders and commands, and it’ll be others who pay the price. I don’t want to be there when it happens. I don’t want to be known for that.”
“When you put it like that, then yes. I think this is much more you.”
“I will retire, eventually. For now, however, I have somebody I need to see. Somebody who is already retired.”
“Who?”
“I said I wanted this book. What I really want is the author.”
***
The Doctor knocked on the door of the Mayfair house.
“Top end of the Monopoly board,” Jasmine acknowledged. The door opened automatically, and Jasmine giggled.
“What?”
“Sorry. It’s so clichéd,” she laughed. The Doctor stepped inside, negotiating his way over a pile of newspapers on the way in. The hallway stretched onwards, and a set of stairs led to the first floor. What struck Jasmine was the stuff. It was a plethora of everything, with books and ornaments and then other, slightly weird possessions such as old computers from the far future, and bundles of cabling.
“Doctor?” a voice called from the living room. The Doctor and Jasmine stepped inside. The room was dark, and as before, filled with antiques from the past and the future. Then, against the wall, was a writing table. A pot of ink sat on top, and hunched over it was a skeleton of a man.
“Girish.”
“My full title, please.”
“Dr Siddiqui.”
“Doctor. How are you?”
“I’m alright,” the Doctor went over and drew back the curtains, letting the sun shine through the windows. The man hissed and turned away from the light.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Jasmine asked the Doctor.
“Jasmine, this is Dr Siddiqui. He wrote the book I was after. We need his help with the distress signal. He monitors the entire planet.”
“Oh? Need my help, do you? And I’m glad you’ve found a copy of the novel. I’m rather excited about hearing your thoughts.”
“I think we both know who Inspector Perry was based on.”
“Ever since your dear friend destroyed me – then yes.”
Jasmine knew who they were talking about, and they hadn’t even mentioned her name. The second Sherlock Holmes.
“Siddiqui ran the largest drug empire – well, the largest drug empire in the Empire for nigh on twenty years. Nobody could catch him until Autumn came along. She took it all apart.”
“And I went to prison for life,” Siddiqui giggled.
“Except he didn’t, because he bribed his way out. Designed a cure for spetrox toxaemia after a plague threatened to wipe out the Capital – he said he’d only do it if his release was guaranteed.”
“I retired and started writing books about a great inspiration of mine. The only person to ever outsmart me. I thought London 1962 looked nice, but I arrived and I got bricks through the window. Blatant racism – justice system aside, there were merits to the Empire, in the form of its liberalities.”
Jasmine didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t get her head around the fact that this shrivelled old man had once been the greatest drug lord in the Empire.
“Siddiqui, have you picked it up?”
“The signal?”
“Yes.”
“I have. I can’t track what sort of craft it’s from or the species, but I’ve picked it up and approximated the area. Surprisingly, Doctor, I think this could stretch further than that.”
“What is it?”
“History is about to change.”
“Oh?”
“Nuclear weapons testing on British soil.”
“Something we didn’t do,” Jasmine interrupted.
“Miss Sparks knows her history. She’s right, at this time, there should not be nuclear testing on British soil. It does not add up. It’s not just a small, 20th century reactor either – I scanned the output, it was colossal! Bigger than any technology this planet should be able to create.”
“I’ll go and have a look.”
“I want to track down the distress signal,” Jasmine said.
The Doctor looked at her and smiled. “Why not, eh? Always wanting to help anyone who needs it.”
Jasmine was flattered, and didn’t know what to say to him.
***
The rain had since started again, and the Doctor made his way along the pavement, umbrella open. The building was, on the surface, a normal terraced house. He walked up the steps and rang the bell. A rather large amount of time lapsed, before eventually, they heard a lock click, and the door opened.
“Hello!” said the Doctor. “I’m the Minister for Science, here to see a Dr Francis Bennett?”
The young woman who stood in the doorway looked at him briefly. “Yes sir. If you’d like to follow me.”
It looked like a perfectly normal house from here as well. There was a wireless on the cabinet, and he could hear the ‘BBC voice’ of the presenter, talking about something to do with missiles.
“- and from the speech that President Kennedy made earlier, it is understood that diplomatic relations with the USSR will progress as planned –”
“Sorry,” the Doctor asked. “What goes on here, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“You’re the Minister for Science? I thought the government were briefed on the situation,” she smiled.
“No. I’m new, it’s my first day.”
“This is the Mosquito Project,” the young woman said. “I’m only the secretary, not responsible for anything other than the admin, I’m afraid. Dr Bennett is the real scientific brains you’ll want to speak to. And do you have a background in science, Doctor…”
“Oh, the Doctor will do just fine.”
“Do you have a background in science, Doctor?”
“Yes, I suppose I do. I haven’t practised in years.”
“No, when one takes up governmental roles, they tend to forget their roots,” the woman was leading them down a set of steps.
“Why does it look like a house?” he asked. “Surely there’s nothing to hide?”
“You really aren’t in the loop, are you? This is uncharted territory, as they say! Mr Macmillan has truly hit a new low, sending a minister in here without briefing them. I digress – instead of opening a new complex, it was decided to keep this project as secret as we possibly could.”
They arrived at the bottom of the steps – there was a door ahead of them. She slipped a key into a lock.
“Welcome,” she pushed the door open, “to the Mosquito project.”
The room was huge, and they stood on a balcony, looking down onto it. Scientists buzzed around the contraption in the centre – an almighty metal column, protruding from a disk-shaped device at the bottom. It reminded the Doctor of the TARDIS, with the hexagonal console and the rotor that jutted slightly out of the top.
“One day I might take architectural inspiration,” he said, admiring the column. “Anyway, this is a nuclear reactor.”
“Not just a nuclear reactor,” the secretary corrected him. “The most advanced nuclear reactor on the planet. It produces more energy that the sun, you know. But as I said, Dr Bennett is the one to talk to, I don’t understand it.”
“Ah, Miss Grant! Who are our visitors?”
The Doctor looked over to see Dr Bennett. His hair was smoothened and he donned a white lab coat, along with a pair of circular glasses.
“This is the Doctor, Minister for Science,” Miss Grant introduced them. “And Doctor, this is Dr Bennett. I should expect they’d like to hear a bit about the reactor, Dr Bennett.”
“Of course,” Dr Bennett agreed.
Soon, he was leading the Doctor down a switchback staircase, towards the core of the reactor below.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t say much with our secretary around. She could give anything away.”
“She didn’t seem like she cared,” the Doctor speculated, as they arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
“This is where we control the device,” Bennett lead them over to the control panel. “It could potentially power the country. And, of course, within the current climates, produce an atomic bomb.”
The Doctor nodded grimly, before trotting off on his own to go and look at the reactor.
Then, to Bennett's surprise, he came back over within an instant.
“Who designed this?”
“Well – I did,” Bennett said.
“When?”
“About a year ago, we’ve been in operation since then. Following governmental decisions that Britain shouldn’t be left unprotected, they commissioned me to design this.”
“Can you hunt me out the blueprints? I’d love to see them.”
“Of course,” and he disappeared back up the switchback staircase.
The Doctor sat back on a chair, and thought to himself. This cannot possibly exist. He’d seen this sort of technology before – millions of years in the future. The Doctor decided now would be a perfect opportunity to have a look around.
It did not take him long to find something interesting. After making his way back up the switchback stairs, around midway to the top he checked the coast was clear, before darting down a small side passageway. It didn’t seem to lead to anything, other than a door. Interestingly, the door was the same design as those from the house above – he’d seen it before, when people try to look so normal they look abnormal. He thought this was the case here. The Doctor tried the door, but with no luck, so peered through the keyhole, only to see darkness. So, attempting to remember all the tips he learnt from his days practising martial arts, he kicked the door with as much force as he could. The wood splintered, and the door flew open.
“Ow,” he murmured, though the pain was outweighed by delight. He was clearly out of practise. What he saw next was not an attempt to hide anything by making it more normal, it was just abnormal. A lift, a boring, shopping-centre or office block or car park lift. But instead of a control panel, there was something else. It must’ve been a sort of fungus, or organic material, in the spot where one would usually find the buttons.
“Oh… I think I know you.”
The Doctor, feeling very stupid, stroked the material, and the doors shut. Then he waited as the lift descended.
Not long after, the doors opened, and he stepped out onto a balcony. It struck the Doctor as being TARDIS-like, in that he could not see how this could be kept completely out of sight. It was a cavern. The walls were constructed of an orange, fleshy material. A distinct material. As he peered over the balcony, it stretched on beneath him for as far as he could see. Pods were embedded in to the walls, with little round holes, letting the Doctor see inside. Or letting them see out.
The Zygons. The Doctor had a hunch as soon as he saw the suspicious organic material growing out of the lift socket, and was almost certain when he saw the cavern, before becoming definitely sure when he saw the pods.
He’d expected something alien after seeing the nuclear reactor, but he didn’t expect anything on this scale. A quick (but very rough) calculation told him there must be at least a million Zygons here.
A million Zygons.
“Oh good go-” a voice practically yelled from behind him. The Doctor turned around and shushed Dr Bennett, who was looking about as pale as a corpse dipped in bleach three times over.
“Please be quiet,” the Doctor whispered, still afraid that there could be large numbers of blood-thirsty Zygons preparing to ensnare him at any moment.
“What on Earth is this place?” Bennett cried.
“The short answer, it’s a Zygon spaceship. The longer answer is, I don’t know, but I’m about to go and have a look-see and try and figure out what’s going on here.”
“What’s a Zi…,” Bennett’s voice just trailed away in despair as he glanced over the balcony at the sight beneath him.
“A shapeshifting alien from outer-space. They often migrate to different planets, you’ve probably already got a few living on Earth. But this is something else, this is an entire spaceship full. A spaceship buried beneath a volatile nuclear reactor that could be modified into a nuclear bomb at any moment, but still, not jumping to conclusions.”
“Oh my –”
“Yes. It is a bit of a shock.”
“What do they look like?”
“Not too different from you and I. Want to have a look?”
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
The Doctor led Bennett over to a pod, and told him to peer inside the window. Bennett did as he was told, before lurching backwards and wagging a finger at it as if it were some kind of naughty dog.
“It’s a real life alien! You said it wasn’t too different from you and me!”
“It isn’t. On Zygor they have houses, schools, hospitals. A way of life very much the same.”
Bennett stepped away, still shaking slightly. “Oh… well.”
“They still love, laugh, argue – all those other things we do. Anyway. Come on, I want to have a look around. See if I can find who’s in charge here.”
***
“Hello?”
Jasmine couldn’t hear a voice – instead, she could hear music. There was a pianist, and the most beautiful melody drifted throughout the empty halls of the gasworks. She recognised the track, and sang over a few notes in her head. She must’ve heard it from some advert or something. It was mesmerising to hear it brought to life, to not just hear numbers and numbers and reams of calculations relayed through a digital device, but to instead hear the life and the joy and the sadness emphasised through the live playing.
There had always been something quite special about live music.
She turned the corner, and she saw the piano, and the figure sat behind it. She moved gracefully as she placed, and Jasmine could see how the figure became almost part of the music in herself. They were alone in the centre of the hall, and the figure (who Jasmine had identified as a woman) played in the darkness.
Then she stopped suddenly.
“It’s beautiful,” Jasmine said.
“Who is it?”
“You sent out a distress signal. Well, I’m here to help.” Jasmine attempted to step towards the piano, but the woman shifted, as if to hide herself, so Jasmine held back.
“The signal is void. Irrelevant.”
“But you hide away out here, alone. I definitely believe you…”
“I was a child at the time. It’s okay now.”
“If you sent a distress single, then you’re not from Earth, are you?” Jasmine asked. “And besides – you wouldn’t be hiding out here if you were.”
“It is a dark world out there. The people fear, they fear so much – hiding would be understandable from anybody.”
“And if people took cover from a dark world all the time, they wouldn’t be living, would they? Where did you learn to play?”
“Back home. My mother played, and I had lessons, and, well, I became good. Obviously.”
“Home is?”
“Far away. Gone. It doesn’t matter now.”
Jasmine had slowly been walking around to her, and the woman didn’t move. She wore a plain black dress, that went down to just above the ankles, and a hat. It was very 60s, Jasmine noted, as if the woman were trying to make herself blend in.
“If it helps, I’m far away from home as well.”
Rather coincidentally, in that way that the narrative of a story will often produce objects in the hope of helping the story fall in to place, Jasmine spotted a chair, and pulled it over.
“You don’t seem to be.”
“Well, in a way, I’m not. I know London, but this is a different time. A whole different world in itself, really.”
“You came here from the future. Some kind of time travel device. Judging by the time period, at least – well, thousands of years.”
“I hitched a ride with somebody even farther from the future than me. I wanted to see the stars… well, originally I just wanted to know the answers, but then I ended up flying around in space. And here I am. Though it’s technically home, it’s… completely alien as well.”
“I think, unlike you, I did not come by choice.”
“Even so, you might as well make the most of it. You’ve not seen much of Earth, have you?” Jasmine asked the woman. “Oh – I nearly forgot. Do you have a name?”
“Mary.”
“Come on, Mary.”
“No.”
“Well – come on! It’s beautiful.”
“I like it here.”
“This is not the best Earth has got to offer. My name is Jasmine Sparks; I’m going to be your tour guide for today.”
Jasmine stood up. “Your emergency exits are here, here and here.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because we received your distress signal, and it’s not fair for you to be scared.”
***
“Of course, I bet they don’t even know what time they’ve arrived. But they’ve chosen the worst possible moment. Right now, the entirety of humanity is on a knife-edge. The two greatest superpowers on the planet, threatening to launch the world into complete, nuclear destruction. It’ll just – well, it’ll just make things worse.”
The Doctor and Bennett gradually made their way through the spaceship, eyes open in case they spotted anything interesting. The walkway spiralled down, and the Doctor decided that they might as well follow it.
“You seemed remarkably calm. Have you met aliens before?” Bennett asked him.
“Yes. Many times. I am one.”
“You… are?”
“Not all aliens are Zygons, Bennett.”
“And – I mean, what do you think they want to do to us? I don’t know, I’ve read the science-fiction, are they going to kill us or probe us or –”
“Probe you,” the Doctor laughed. “Again. Not all aliens. Yes, they could be here to destroy you all, but who knows? Not me, not yet.”
“The first stop on our tour!” Jasmine said. Mary looked tired.
“Is everything nice so far apart?”
“No,” Jasmine said, looking a bit too offended. “Every once in a while, you get a gem like this.”
She’d basically dragged the young woman who she’d only just met kicking and screaming across London. She was not Jasmine’s concern at all, but there was something intriguing about her. Not to mention the fact she’d sent a distress signal before saying she didn’t require it, but the fact she chose to hide out, somewhere isolated and secluded from society. She was an enigma. An enigma in a strange place, dragged far away from home.
The night was clear. Stars spattered the open, navy sky, and, on the top of the hill in the middle of the park, stretched on for as far as she could see, only interrupted by the arrival of the moon in the middle, so bright its little craters emphasised how much it looked like it was made of cheese. Only then did Jasmine truly understand what her generation (well, the generation before her, and her generation), had done to the world. She’d never quite seen the sky like this – and it was probably because of pollution, because of endless amount of smog pumped out by cars and power stations.
“We’re all so self-obsessed,” Jasmine murmured.
“I’m sorry?” Mary asked.
“No, don’t worry. I was just thinking – everyone forgets the things like this, because we’re all to obsessed with our own little lives that we don’t think about what it means for the world, or for the people.”
“It is beautiful,” Mary admitted. Jasmine took her hand, and led her out further in to the park, pointing at the skies.
“I’ve never seen it quite like this myself,” Jasmine laughed. Then Mary sat herself down, and lay backwards, looking up and smiling. Jasmine looked at her.
“They remind me.”
Jasmine lay down next to her.
“At home,” Mary reminisced. “We have nebulae.”
“Beautiful, sparkling clouds, of oranges and violets and deep, dark ocean blues, and the newness of green and the blood reds. All of them, they come together in some… beautiful fusion of light. In the villages and the colonies, it provides light so you don’t need to walk with a torch at night.”
“Where is home?”
“A planet, far, far away. You wouldn’t know it – and yes, as you said, it was fear that made me run. I didn’t know how fast I could run, so I sent out the distress signal, just in case. I got away, though, but I’m lost, somewhere, here, in space.”
“If it was fear, then –”
“Then surely it’s a better life?” Mary finished the sentence, as if it were one that she’d heard so many times before. “No. Well, it is. But you remember all that you lost to come here, and all that you left behind, and it doesn’t seem so wonderful.”
The two of them lay in silence, gazing at the heavens above.
“There’s more to this,” Jasmine said.
“Hmm?”
“This isn’t just one person who ran in fear. Whatever you ran from – it’s here as well.”
“No, I left it –”
“People don’t –”
“People don’t just become ‘not scared’ after leaving something terrible behind.”
The silence again.
“I want to see more,” Jasmine said. “Of how you came to be here.”
“Maybe.”
“If you ran from something so terrible and it’s here, I want to help. This isn’t exactly where I came from, but the people here deserved to be helped as well.”
***
“What on Earth is that?” Bennett asked.
It was the Doctor’s mobile phone. He didn’t usually carry one, but he’d been talked around to it at one point. Eventually he answered it.
“Is that a telephone?” Bennett gaped at him. The Doctor mouthed a ‘yes’.
“Doctor!” Dr Siddiqui was calling him.
“Siddiqui. What is it?”
“I phone with interesting news regarding your companion.”
“Jasmine?”
“I tracked her –”
“You did what?” the Doctor interrupted.
“Purely for the purpose of seeing who sent the distress signal. As I was saying, before being so rudely interrupted, your companion has met a Zygon.”
“I’m not surprised,” the Doctor glanced at the ship around him.
“Oh?”
“The nuclear testing lab, I happened to stumble upon an absolutely huge Zygon spaceship beneath the ground.”
“Oh, they always did play a great game of hide and seek,” Siddiqui chuckled to himself. “Oh, and, I took the liberty of hacking their systems, they’re keeping detailed schematics of several types of nuclear missile.”
The Doctor was silent, and quietly despairing with himself.
“You didn’t think to mention that straight away?”
Siddiqui made a noise that was as if he was audibly raising his hands in defence.
“Siddiqui, don’t go anywhere.”
“I can barely walk; I’m not planning on it.”
The Doctor hung up, as he approached the bridge. It was a large room set on two different levels. A walkway led up to a semi-circular platform, with a semi-circular control panel, covered, in true Zygon style, in suckers. The Doctor knew that this would be where he found the answers, so he made his way up to the panel, and began to, as he’d taught himself over the years, massage the fronds.
“I think this is definitely more than we bargained for…”
The Doctor turned around, to see Jasmine standing there, with a young woman.
“You found me, then,” Jasmine said.
“Well – yeah. This is Mary.”
“Mary, lovely to meet you,” the Doctor shook her hand. “I’m the Doctor.”
“Mary,” she replied, introducing herself.
“Mary – why a distress signal?”
“I had to run. Run so very fast from the fire. They said the ashes were going to fall, and I had to get away.”
The Doctor looked back at the control panel. It bleeped, in that typical fashion that computers often bleep with. “I think this is all connected.”
“What is?” Jasmine asked.
“Come here.”
On the screen, there was a cross-section of what looked like a missile.
“There are plans in the databanks for nuclear missiles, and then some kind of… shield system. The sort of thing used to protect against nuclear fallout. And I don’t blame Mary for running, I think I would as well if my people were –”
“Doctor!”
The Doctor turned around, to see Bennett stood behind him.
“Dr Bennett. Except… I don’t think you are. And I don’t think Mary is either,” he turned to her. “You don’t have to be scared, Mary. You don’t have to disguise yourself, I don’t want to hurt you.”
Mary didn’t change.
“I’m sorry?” Bennett exclaimed.
“The Zygons. Shape changing aliens, encountered them before a few times. I’d recognise one from a mile off – and one of their spaceships.”
Bennett didn’t try and protest. Quickly he morphed into the distinct red, sucker-covered shape of a Zygon.
“The Zygons are here to populate this world, Doctor. When the dust has settled, and the ashes have rained down upon you, we will exist here.”
“This is an invasion?”
“No invasion is needed. Your world is a lie, built on foundations of deceit and destruction. Bricks and mortar or hellfire and fear. And when the lie is discovered? It will topple. All we are here to do is push. We will see the lie unfold. The victory is guaranteed when the nuclear holocaust descends.”
The Doctor thought back to the reactor in the test lab. “The total devastation of the entire planet, with one blow. It’s all disguised.”
“I do not understand.”
“Your reactor – enough to destroy the entire planet. All of it covered up by the Cold War.”
“The reactor is not for hostile purposes. It is the engine removed from our ship!”
It was as if the Zygon had just slapped him around the face with a suckered hand.
“Oh.”
The Doctor, who was not an idiot, realised what an idiot he’d been. There was no invasion.
“Jasmine, I’m so sorry.”
“Why? What is it? They don’t want to harm anyone, surely that’s good, yes?”
“This room will remain sealed. When the plan has taken place, you will be released,” the Bennett Zygon teleported away, leaving the three of them standing in the room.
“The Zygons have come here to settle,” the Doctor explained. “They hide in waiting till the nuclear war is over, and then they come out. But the nuclear war isn’t theirs, the nuclear war is yours. The Zygons are just hijacking history – no offence, it’s not your fault. They said all they had to do was topple it – so they’ve got doubles. Doubles in the governments, to make sure this world burns. Because, Mary, correct me if I’m wrong – but you’ve come here because this planet is destroyed around this date, yes?”
Mary was silent briefly, before replying. “Yes.”
“But the Cuban missile crisis doesn’t lead to nuclear war! I haven’t been born yet.”
“Remember what I said about the rain, Jasmine? Time is relative. It’s not a strict progression, anything tiny can just nudge it off course slightly. I mean, usually it doesn’t matter with time travellers, we only leave small footprints behind. But time can change – and that’s what…”
“Two million,” Mary said.
“Two million Zygons are going to do to Earth. And why? It’s because you’re scared, isn’t it?”
Mary nodded timidly.
“We have to do something,” Jasmine said. “Because this isn’t right, this is just history, history that worked out in a different way.”
The two of them were all staring at the Doctor, who was leaning back against a control panel.
“Mary,” he walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. Jasmine." He turned to his companion. "It's our responsibility. I need you to talk to them, I need you to find out why they’re here, what led them to being here. Then we might be able to find what’s shaken the Earth off course so much.”
“Where are you going?” Jasmine asked him.
The Doctor smiled and stepped away from her, back towards the control panel. “America. We’re not just fighting the monsters, Jasmine. We are fighting time itself – because you’re right. It doesn’t happen like this. And I’m going to stop the Cuban Missile Crisis.”
Then he pulled a lever, and he vanished.
“Where’s he gone?” Mary asked.
“I think he’s gone to help,” Jasmine smiled.
Galactic Federation - Wednesday 23rd October, 1,000,000 (human calendar)
Finally… the honourable member for Xothami B made himself comfortable, as he awaited the results of the vote. He was looking forward to getting home – this had been long and tiresome, and everyone was fairly certain what the result would be. He had logged his vote (against the motion) and had been waiting for at least half an hour. Then, with the Speaker’s cries of order, everyone shut up, as they eagerly awaited the result.
It was a hotly debated topic at home, and all across the Galactic Federation. It divided everyone – but everyone in the parliament seemed to agree unanimously.
“All votes from all members of the Galactic Federation have been registered and counted. I, as speaker of the Parliament of the Galactic Federation, can announce that this motion has been rejected, on a majority of 431,567 to 141,071.”
The speaker swung his gavel, and that was that. The member for Xothami B sighed, and his mind drifted to later. He’d circled something rather intriguing in the TV guide.
The White House - Tuesday 16th October, 1962
By now, the President would’ve given up if he hadn’t been used to the early starts. He was used to being woken up in the middle of the night, and used to kicking his brain in to gear – but whatever this was, his staff had chosen to leave it until the morning. It meant he’d got a good night’s sleep (as good a night’s sleep as he usually got nowadays). It did fill him with a strange sense of dread – it may not have been urgent enough for a midnight awakening, but the fact that the briefing had been left until the time of the President’s awakening made him wonder whether they wanted him in a fit enough state to make some kind of important decision. After tidying himself up, they’d led him down to the Oval Office.
“Mr President, the national security adviser is waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
His staff waited outside, and the President stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. What he saw, was not something he expected to see at all. He wondered whether this was actually a midnight awakening and he was just dreaming, or whether the Addison’s was getting the better of him, or – in fact, rather unusually, he was lost for words.
“Hello Mr President.”
A man seemed to sit at his desk, his legs perched up on top of it. The President hadn’t met him before, nor did his face seem familiar from anywhere. But there he was, as casual as anything, sat back in his desk chair and smiling at him as if it didn’t matter that he’d just walked in to the most secure office on the planet and was now lounging on the most powerful man in the world’s furniture.
“Sir, might I ask who you are?”
“That’ll come later.”
“Are you the reason why I’ve been called down for briefing? I was told the security adviser was waiting for me.”
“The national security adviser has been delayed, instead you’ve got to put up with me. I don’t bring good news, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?”
“These photos,” the man took his legs down from the desk and gestured for the President to come and look at these documents. The President, for some reason, found himself doing as he was told, instead of calling for security. Then, as he saw the photos, he decided to abandon any thought of calling security and listen to everything this man was going to tell him.
“Medium range ballistic missiles,” he said. “In Cuba.”
The President looked at the photos, and then at the man. “Where are these from?”
“Taken by a U2 flight a few days ago, they’ve only just been identified.”
“This could be it,” Kennedy said.
“Yes… it could be.”
“It won’t be. I need the security counc-”
“No, the last thing that you need is the security council. Half of them are aliens.”
“Oh?”
“Soon, I promise you. I have to show you something first.”
“Oh – er, okay.”
“There’s been an unexpected turnaround. There’s a new enemy.”
“Who are they?”
“A third party, if you like. This is the greatest opportunity for total destruction, and they are going to use is. If that enemy has its way, Mr President, the missiles will fire. It will not wait for diplomacy, no talks, no anything; at some point within the very near future, probably at some point today, the Cuban missiles will go off, and your missiles in Europe will go off as well, triggering this planet's first and last nuclear war.”
“Tell me, sir, whoever you are. This third party, I need to know who they are.”
“Soon, Mr President.”
“Your name, please?”
“I’m the Doctor. And I’m coming back, I promise. Don’t leave this office. The doomsday clock is ticking, John Fitzgerald Kennedy.”
“Is everything nice so far apart?”
“No,” Jasmine said, looking a bit too offended. “Every once in a while, you get a gem like this.”
She’d basically dragged the young woman who she’d only just met kicking and screaming across London. She was not Jasmine’s concern at all, but there was something intriguing about her. Not to mention the fact she’d sent a distress signal before saying she didn’t require it, but the fact she chose to hide out, somewhere isolated and secluded from society. She was an enigma. An enigma in a strange place, dragged far away from home.
The night was clear. Stars spattered the open, navy sky, and, on the top of the hill in the middle of the park, stretched on for as far as she could see, only interrupted by the arrival of the moon in the middle, so bright its little craters emphasised how much it looked like it was made of cheese. Only then did Jasmine truly understand what her generation (well, the generation before her, and her generation), had done to the world. She’d never quite seen the sky like this – and it was probably because of pollution, because of endless amount of smog pumped out by cars and power stations.
“We’re all so self-obsessed,” Jasmine murmured.
“I’m sorry?” Mary asked.
“No, don’t worry. I was just thinking – everyone forgets the things like this, because we’re all to obsessed with our own little lives that we don’t think about what it means for the world, or for the people.”
“It is beautiful,” Mary admitted. Jasmine took her hand, and led her out further in to the park, pointing at the skies.
“I’ve never seen it quite like this myself,” Jasmine laughed. Then Mary sat herself down, and lay backwards, looking up and smiling. Jasmine looked at her.
“They remind me.”
Jasmine lay down next to her.
“At home,” Mary reminisced. “We have nebulae.”
“Beautiful, sparkling clouds, of oranges and violets and deep, dark ocean blues, and the newness of green and the blood reds. All of them, they come together in some… beautiful fusion of light. In the villages and the colonies, it provides light so you don’t need to walk with a torch at night.”
“Where is home?”
“A planet, far, far away. You wouldn’t know it – and yes, as you said, it was fear that made me run. I didn’t know how fast I could run, so I sent out the distress signal, just in case. I got away, though, but I’m lost, somewhere, here, in space.”
“If it was fear, then –”
“Then surely it’s a better life?” Mary finished the sentence, as if it were one that she’d heard so many times before. “No. Well, it is. But you remember all that you lost to come here, and all that you left behind, and it doesn’t seem so wonderful.”
The two of them lay in silence, gazing at the heavens above.
“There’s more to this,” Jasmine said.
“Hmm?”
“This isn’t just one person who ran in fear. Whatever you ran from – it’s here as well.”
“No, I left it –”
“People don’t –”
“People don’t just become ‘not scared’ after leaving something terrible behind.”
The silence again.
“I want to see more,” Jasmine said. “Of how you came to be here.”
“Maybe.”
“If you ran from something so terrible and it’s here, I want to help. This isn’t exactly where I came from, but the people here deserved to be helped as well.”
***
“What on Earth is that?” Bennett asked.
It was the Doctor’s mobile phone. He didn’t usually carry one, but he’d been talked around to it at one point. Eventually he answered it.
“Is that a telephone?” Bennett gaped at him. The Doctor mouthed a ‘yes’.
“Doctor!” Dr Siddiqui was calling him.
“Siddiqui. What is it?”
“I phone with interesting news regarding your companion.”
“Jasmine?”
“I tracked her –”
“You did what?” the Doctor interrupted.
“Purely for the purpose of seeing who sent the distress signal. As I was saying, before being so rudely interrupted, your companion has met a Zygon.”
“I’m not surprised,” the Doctor glanced at the ship around him.
“Oh?”
“The nuclear testing lab, I happened to stumble upon an absolutely huge Zygon spaceship beneath the ground.”
“Oh, they always did play a great game of hide and seek,” Siddiqui chuckled to himself. “Oh, and, I took the liberty of hacking their systems, they’re keeping detailed schematics of several types of nuclear missile.”
The Doctor was silent, and quietly despairing with himself.
“You didn’t think to mention that straight away?”
Siddiqui made a noise that was as if he was audibly raising his hands in defence.
“Siddiqui, don’t go anywhere.”
“I can barely walk; I’m not planning on it.”
The Doctor hung up, as he approached the bridge. It was a large room set on two different levels. A walkway led up to a semi-circular platform, with a semi-circular control panel, covered, in true Zygon style, in suckers. The Doctor knew that this would be where he found the answers, so he made his way up to the panel, and began to, as he’d taught himself over the years, massage the fronds.
“I think this is definitely more than we bargained for…”
The Doctor turned around, to see Jasmine standing there, with a young woman.
“You found me, then,” Jasmine said.
“Well – yeah. This is Mary.”
“Mary, lovely to meet you,” the Doctor shook her hand. “I’m the Doctor.”
“Mary,” she replied, introducing herself.
“Mary – why a distress signal?”
“I had to run. Run so very fast from the fire. They said the ashes were going to fall, and I had to get away.”
The Doctor looked back at the control panel. It bleeped, in that typical fashion that computers often bleep with. “I think this is all connected.”
“What is?” Jasmine asked.
“Come here.”
On the screen, there was a cross-section of what looked like a missile.
“There are plans in the databanks for nuclear missiles, and then some kind of… shield system. The sort of thing used to protect against nuclear fallout. And I don’t blame Mary for running, I think I would as well if my people were –”
“Doctor!”
The Doctor turned around, to see Bennett stood behind him.
“Dr Bennett. Except… I don’t think you are. And I don’t think Mary is either,” he turned to her. “You don’t have to be scared, Mary. You don’t have to disguise yourself, I don’t want to hurt you.”
Mary didn’t change.
“I’m sorry?” Bennett exclaimed.
“The Zygons. Shape changing aliens, encountered them before a few times. I’d recognise one from a mile off – and one of their spaceships.”
Bennett didn’t try and protest. Quickly he morphed into the distinct red, sucker-covered shape of a Zygon.
“The Zygons are here to populate this world, Doctor. When the dust has settled, and the ashes have rained down upon you, we will exist here.”
“This is an invasion?”
“No invasion is needed. Your world is a lie, built on foundations of deceit and destruction. Bricks and mortar or hellfire and fear. And when the lie is discovered? It will topple. All we are here to do is push. We will see the lie unfold. The victory is guaranteed when the nuclear holocaust descends.”
The Doctor thought back to the reactor in the test lab. “The total devastation of the entire planet, with one blow. It’s all disguised.”
“I do not understand.”
“Your reactor – enough to destroy the entire planet. All of it covered up by the Cold War.”
“The reactor is not for hostile purposes. It is the engine removed from our ship!”
It was as if the Zygon had just slapped him around the face with a suckered hand.
“Oh.”
The Doctor, who was not an idiot, realised what an idiot he’d been. There was no invasion.
“Jasmine, I’m so sorry.”
“Why? What is it? They don’t want to harm anyone, surely that’s good, yes?”
“This room will remain sealed. When the plan has taken place, you will be released,” the Bennett Zygon teleported away, leaving the three of them standing in the room.
“The Zygons have come here to settle,” the Doctor explained. “They hide in waiting till the nuclear war is over, and then they come out. But the nuclear war isn’t theirs, the nuclear war is yours. The Zygons are just hijacking history – no offence, it’s not your fault. They said all they had to do was topple it – so they’ve got doubles. Doubles in the governments, to make sure this world burns. Because, Mary, correct me if I’m wrong – but you’ve come here because this planet is destroyed around this date, yes?”
Mary was silent briefly, before replying. “Yes.”
“But the Cuban missile crisis doesn’t lead to nuclear war! I haven’t been born yet.”
“Remember what I said about the rain, Jasmine? Time is relative. It’s not a strict progression, anything tiny can just nudge it off course slightly. I mean, usually it doesn’t matter with time travellers, we only leave small footprints behind. But time can change – and that’s what…”
“Two million,” Mary said.
“Two million Zygons are going to do to Earth. And why? It’s because you’re scared, isn’t it?”
Mary nodded timidly.
“We have to do something,” Jasmine said. “Because this isn’t right, this is just history, history that worked out in a different way.”
The two of them were all staring at the Doctor, who was leaning back against a control panel.
“Mary,” he walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. Jasmine." He turned to his companion. "It's our responsibility. I need you to talk to them, I need you to find out why they’re here, what led them to being here. Then we might be able to find what’s shaken the Earth off course so much.”
“Where are you going?” Jasmine asked him.
The Doctor smiled and stepped away from her, back towards the control panel. “America. We’re not just fighting the monsters, Jasmine. We are fighting time itself – because you’re right. It doesn’t happen like this. And I’m going to stop the Cuban Missile Crisis.”
Then he pulled a lever, and he vanished.
“Where’s he gone?” Mary asked.
“I think he’s gone to help,” Jasmine smiled.
Galactic Federation - Wednesday 23rd October, 1,000,000 (human calendar)
Finally… the honourable member for Xothami B made himself comfortable, as he awaited the results of the vote. He was looking forward to getting home – this had been long and tiresome, and everyone was fairly certain what the result would be. He had logged his vote (against the motion) and had been waiting for at least half an hour. Then, with the Speaker’s cries of order, everyone shut up, as they eagerly awaited the result.
It was a hotly debated topic at home, and all across the Galactic Federation. It divided everyone – but everyone in the parliament seemed to agree unanimously.
“All votes from all members of the Galactic Federation have been registered and counted. I, as speaker of the Parliament of the Galactic Federation, can announce that this motion has been rejected, on a majority of 431,567 to 141,071.”
The speaker swung his gavel, and that was that. The member for Xothami B sighed, and his mind drifted to later. He’d circled something rather intriguing in the TV guide.
The White House - Tuesday 16th October, 1962
By now, the President would’ve given up if he hadn’t been used to the early starts. He was used to being woken up in the middle of the night, and used to kicking his brain in to gear – but whatever this was, his staff had chosen to leave it until the morning. It meant he’d got a good night’s sleep (as good a night’s sleep as he usually got nowadays). It did fill him with a strange sense of dread – it may not have been urgent enough for a midnight awakening, but the fact that the briefing had been left until the time of the President’s awakening made him wonder whether they wanted him in a fit enough state to make some kind of important decision. After tidying himself up, they’d led him down to the Oval Office.
“Mr President, the national security adviser is waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
His staff waited outside, and the President stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. What he saw, was not something he expected to see at all. He wondered whether this was actually a midnight awakening and he was just dreaming, or whether the Addison’s was getting the better of him, or – in fact, rather unusually, he was lost for words.
“Hello Mr President.”
A man seemed to sit at his desk, his legs perched up on top of it. The President hadn’t met him before, nor did his face seem familiar from anywhere. But there he was, as casual as anything, sat back in his desk chair and smiling at him as if it didn’t matter that he’d just walked in to the most secure office on the planet and was now lounging on the most powerful man in the world’s furniture.
“Sir, might I ask who you are?”
“That’ll come later.”
“Are you the reason why I’ve been called down for briefing? I was told the security adviser was waiting for me.”
“The national security adviser has been delayed, instead you’ve got to put up with me. I don’t bring good news, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?”
“These photos,” the man took his legs down from the desk and gestured for the President to come and look at these documents. The President, for some reason, found himself doing as he was told, instead of calling for security. Then, as he saw the photos, he decided to abandon any thought of calling security and listen to everything this man was going to tell him.
“Medium range ballistic missiles,” he said. “In Cuba.”
The President looked at the photos, and then at the man. “Where are these from?”
“Taken by a U2 flight a few days ago, they’ve only just been identified.”
“This could be it,” Kennedy said.
“Yes… it could be.”
“It won’t be. I need the security counc-”
“No, the last thing that you need is the security council. Half of them are aliens.”
“Oh?”
“Soon, I promise you. I have to show you something first.”
“Oh – er, okay.”
“There’s been an unexpected turnaround. There’s a new enemy.”
“Who are they?”
“A third party, if you like. This is the greatest opportunity for total destruction, and they are going to use is. If that enemy has its way, Mr President, the missiles will fire. It will not wait for diplomacy, no talks, no anything; at some point within the very near future, probably at some point today, the Cuban missiles will go off, and your missiles in Europe will go off as well, triggering this planet's first and last nuclear war.”
“Tell me, sir, whoever you are. This third party, I need to know who they are.”
“Soon, Mr President.”
“Your name, please?”
“I’m the Doctor. And I’m coming back, I promise. Don’t leave this office. The doomsday clock is ticking, John Fitzgerald Kennedy.”