Prologue
Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter, little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here…
Since the Doctor had suddenly disappeared proclaiming he was going to prevent the Cuban Missile Crisis from ever happening, Jasmine had taken her mobile phone out of her pocket, and decided to play some of her favourite Earth hits to Mary.
“This one isn’t out for another seven years,” Jasmine explained, before humming the melody along to herself. “But you know. Close enough.”
There was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of The Beatles.
“I can’t do this, Jasmine.”
“Can’t do what?”
“Sit here. Sit here while the Doctor has said what he’s said.”
“Mary, you don’t have to worry, we know –”
“Because he lied to you, Jasmine. Everything he told you about us, and about why we were here, they were lies. Yes, he spared me, and… I don’t know why. But it isn’t fair.”
“Lies…”
“You’ve probably been told a lot of things, and I think a lot of them are lies. That’s usually what happens with us,” Mary murmured. “So – I want to tell you. This is us. The story of us.”
Since the Doctor had suddenly disappeared proclaiming he was going to prevent the Cuban Missile Crisis from ever happening, Jasmine had taken her mobile phone out of her pocket, and decided to play some of her favourite Earth hits to Mary.
“This one isn’t out for another seven years,” Jasmine explained, before humming the melody along to herself. “But you know. Close enough.”
There was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of The Beatles.
“I can’t do this, Jasmine.”
“Can’t do what?”
“Sit here. Sit here while the Doctor has said what he’s said.”
“Mary, you don’t have to worry, we know –”
“Because he lied to you, Jasmine. Everything he told you about us, and about why we were here, they were lies. Yes, he spared me, and… I don’t know why. But it isn’t fair.”
“Lies…”
“You’ve probably been told a lot of things, and I think a lot of them are lies. That’s usually what happens with us,” Mary murmured. “So – I want to tell you. This is us. The story of us.”
The Eighth Doctor Adventures
Series 4 - Episode 7
One Minute to Midnight
Written by peter darwin
“Mr President.” The Doctor was still sat in President Kennedy’s office chair, still not particularly fussed about the whole shoes-on-furniture thing. It was about then that the President noticed the strange, blue box propped up in the corner. “Fancy a run-around?”
“I’m – sorry?” the President gasped. “With respect, Doctor, you have just told me that there are missiles capable of wiping out the United States of America, positioned only in Cuba. Now is not the time for me to be leaving post.”
The Doctor walked over and pushed the door open. President Kennedy’s face turned pale.
“It’s… bigger. On the inside! I promised we’d put a man on the moon, but that… this is so much more!”
“You’d believe me when I said it travels in time, then?”
“My entire grasp of physics has just been shaken up, I think I’d believe anything.”
“Mr President, step into my box.”
President Kennedy, as reluctant as one would be after witnessing a concept that completely destroyed everything they ever understood about the world they lived in, stepped slowly into the strange police box. It was British, he noted. He vaguely remembered seeing one in London. As he entered, he was almost as shocked as when he’d seen it from the outside, and he realised that it wasn’t some kind of smoke and mirrors trick; it was, instead, real. An almighty chamber compressed into six bright walls. A throaty, wheezy sound echoing in the chamber. Buttons and switches and lights of all different colours, against the pure white walls. Then, stood over the console, was another man; short, stood up on a cane, fiddling with some of the equipment.
“Doctor!” the man cried. “The capacitors are burned out! What’ve you been doing to this thing? Universe-hopping?”
“Yes,” the Doctor joined the withered old man at what the President assumed was the control centre of this bizarre machine.
“Mr President, I nearly forgot – this is Dr Siddiqui. He’s not usually with me, he’s just been kind enough to lend a hand,” the Doctor glared at him. Dr Siddiqui began to hobble over, balancing intently on cane.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the President walked over to Dr Siddiqui and shook his hand.
“I should be having some bionic limbs fitted soon, but again, they couldn’t get the –”
Dr Siddiqui caught sight of the Doctor and shut up.
“Sorry! I forget, 1962, you haven’t even invented floppy disks!”
“Siddiqui, grow up,” the Doctor pulled a lever, and then the great column in the middle shuddered, and began to move up and down. “As I said, he’s only temporary.”
“So, this box,” Kennedy gazed around him. “What’s it for? And what am I doing here?”
“This box travels in space and time, Mr President, we can use it to go anywhere. The reason we need your help – well, imagine the scenario. Say you’ve got thousands of people, driven out of their homes by conflict, and angry, ready to retaliate – what do you do?”
“Well, it’s our duty to help them. I always wanted to do that. That’s why we had the Peace Corps. But – we can’t let them abuse the rights that we hold.”
“The Peace Corps, a great organisation consisting of anyone wanting to help build bridges with others of different nationalities.”
“Glad to see you’ve done your research, Doctor.”
“There are rumours, Mr President, of a war. A greater war than this world, or any other world, has ever known. There are some who have already started running – and thousands have come here, to Earth. But – and it hurts to say this, but – they don’t look like they’ve come peacefully.”
“As I said, Doctor,” the President replied. “It’s our duty to help them. But if they abuse our rights, then we have another duty as well.”
***
“Mr President,” the Doctor pulled a lever, and the TARDIS came to a stop. “I don’t know how much of this you’ll believe.”
“Quite a lot of it, I should expect,” the president replied, chuckling to himself about the absurdity of the situation.
The Doctor opened the door of his strange bigger-on-the-inside box, and led the president outside. They hadn’t gone that far – there was a bench, just in the rose garden.
“You said anywhere in time and space – and we’re in my back garden.”
“Sorry, we haven’t gone too far, but they wouldn’t have let us out here if they’d seen you walking with a completely random stranger. Mr President – the whole reason I want to talk to you, is because I want your advice.”
“Usually I’m the one asking for the advice.”
“I’ll explain the situation in more detail. This world has visitors – they’re called the Zygons. Some want to live in peace – but they’ve done that by infiltrating your government, and the government of the Soviet Union, and they’re going to make sure the negotiations over these missiles in Cuba fail. Then –”
“Mutually assured destruction,” the President finished the Doctor’s sentence.
“Of course, you are the most powerful man in the world. But you’re also President Kennedy – who is, at heart, a peacemaker. And I needed to know what you thought – because the reason they need this world to live, is that their own is in danger.”
“Can’t we negotiate with them? See if we can find an option that works for both sides?”
“The Zygons are angry – I don’t know what sort of mood they’ll be in. But I’ve found something else, another world, completely brand new, where they can live as they want. Do I show them that world?”
“Doctor – that is the ultimate racial segregation. You know that I can’t agree to that.”
***
They’d left the bridge, and made their way down some spiral steps. At the bottom, they came to a sudden halt, and Jasmine and Mary stepped into the mouth of a great tunnel. It went on for a while, doing what perspective did – slowly closing in on itself, revealing a glowing, orange light at the end. Mary walked just slightly ahead, leading the way, Jasmine following close beside her.
“Zygons have stunning architecture,” Jasmine remembered the main cave, with the huge pillars, stretching right through the ship, covered in suckers, and the beams entwined with them, propping up the different tiers, each with a number of pods embedded into the walls.
“The ship was constructed specifically for this mission. It was the ‘Pride of Zygor’,” Mary quoted, in a way to suggest that she didn’t agree with it. “We were to be the awe of the galaxy.”
“So – this is a battleship? To… I don’t know, prepare yourself, for this war that the Doctor’s mentioned a few times, and that you keep mentioning.”
Mary did not answer. She grew restless, and walked, looking directly in front of her. “Have you seen any weapons?”
“No,” Jasmine said. “The missiles – they were schematics of the missiles being used by humanity.”
“Exactly. You’ve seen none. That’s because there are none.”
Then Jasmine realised that the Doctor was an idiot. “Oh,” she murmured. “I get it, now.”
“The Doctor has words, Jasmine. But words can be weaved to appeal. They can be tailored in a specific way for a specific person.”
Jasmine thought back to Tommy, and wondered exactly what the Doctor had said to him originally. What the Doctor had said to inspire him. What the Doctor had said to make him in awe of him.
“This is what the Doctor is the master of – manipulating his words, so he can manipulate people. He convinced you to believe that this was a battleship – that we were arming ourselves for this prophesised war. I think that’s terrifying.”
“The Doctor is many things,” Jasmine began. “And yes, sometimes he manipulates, and when he does, I hate him for it. But sometimes he genuinely believes he’s right – but he exerts this… authority, that makes it seem to everyone else that he’s right. That’s terrifying.”
There was a brief moment of silence.
“This ship, Jasmine. It’s not a battleship, it’s a lifeboat.”
They’d arrived at the end of the tunnel, and then she saw. They stood on a balcony, overlooking a cavern, almost as big as the one from earlier. Except there were rows, of the same half rocky, half-gelatinous material the walls were made out of. They were stacked like tall shelves, divided up as little compartments, and within each, a window, small and round like a porthole.
“These are the Zygons you’re saving?” Jasmine asked.
“These aren’t fully grown. This is a Zygon hatchery. There are millions of Zygons in here, Jasmine. Millions who haven’t even been born. Jasmine… I want you to know why we made this journey.”
***
And just like that, home was gone.
Lorych Qrorlzyntholicqm-Wrlil, to be known on Earth as Mary, watched her world disappear through the back of a spaceship window. She placed a palm against the glass as it slowly vanished into nothingness, and was replaced by the endless emptiness of space. Then, eventually, she turned away from the window, and back to her passengers. The compartment was not very big, and there were benches along each wall, where all of them sat. They sat in the human forms that had been prepared for them back home – they wanted to be able to mix with the destination as easily as possible, to avoid any complications. By complications, they meant the struggle that would occur should any of them arrived ‘unmasked’. Everybody sat in silence. Nobody knew each other, but it was easier that way. Those who were to be protected were chosen at random. This gave everybody a fairer chance, and made sure all evacuees were part of one unit, instead of separating in to families or clans. Of course, it meant they’d been taken from their homes, and from their families. In the places that they’d grown up.
With the blink of an eye, Mary was back in her village. She stood on the pathway, facing the rows of houses. She knew the pathway well; she’d walked it so many times. She took a left into the playground, and traced her fingers along a steel pole, part of the structure of a swing set. It was rusted, but it always had been, even when she was young herself. It must be old, part of this village forever, just as the pole remained part of the structure of the swings. The wind gently rocked the seat, backwards and forwards, its emptiness noticeable. The swings were never empty. There was always somebody playing. It finally dawned on her that there was nobody. All of it she reimagined so vividly, but not the people. Maybe the people were too real for the dream. Maybe it was too painful to imagine them.
She could remember the day that they’d come for her. Two of them knocked on the door. Her mother had answered. Mary knew who they were without even needing to see. Her mother’s screams gave it away. The communications channels had been broadcasting the news for months – that there was to be a mass evacuation. A random selection would take place, to decide which members of society would best be suited to ‘restarting’ Zygon culture anew. But none of her family would think anything about it. They were a remote outpost, far from the golden cities. Just an old place, abandoned by the rest of the world, as time slowly passed by. They were wrong.
Originally, Mary refused. Her father came home and refused (albeit, much more angrily). Her mother could not say anything, she just sobbed.
“She’s only seventeen years old!” her father had cried. “Please, you cannot take her.”
“The government has selected her,” one of the collectors replied. “I’m sorry. We have no choice. It is for her safety. She will be far away from here; she will lead a better life than this.”
“A life without us,” her father said.
“But she will live! Our world lives in fear. It could begin, at any minute now, a war could break out, and we would be trapped in the centre, and all of us, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, could burn. Your daughter will live.”
“No!” father cried. “I won’t let you.”
The collectors nodded at each other, and came over to her, ready to take her by force.
“It’s all right,” Mary raised a hand. “I’ll go.”
“You can’t just –”
“Dad. I have no choice. One day, we will all be back together. You, me, mum, Qirauk. All of us. Space is only a distance, and it is a distance that can be travelled. And one day, we will do it.”
He hugged her, and then kissed her cheek. “Stay safe. You do what you do best. Wherever you may be going now, do not worry.”
“I won’t.”
Then she stepped over to mum, who couldn’t speak due to the crying. She was such a sight it made Mary laugh.
“You’re such a wreck,” Mary giggled. Her mum snivelled and looked at her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just, I’m sorry.”
“Is that a mum thing? Apologising for everything. I’ll be back.”
“But what if –”
“Stop it.”
“If –”
“It won’t come to that.”
“These – trips. You hear about them from other planets. They go on the ships, but they don’t make the journey.”
“It won’t be like that for me. These are government ships, mum. I’ll make it.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Thank you. I cannot stress that more. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what mums do. You’ll make a great one.”
“Yeah… maybe I will.”
Ten years had passed, and those were still the last words that Mary had said to her family.
***
It was soon that they arrived at the first stop on their journey. Mary had promised her mum that she’d be fine, that this was government funded, she wouldn’t die. She shouldn’t have promised it. Three dead already. When illness struck the ship, it was hard to find treatment in deep space. It had, at the beginning, seemed like a sizeable ship. When she saw them on the news, she thought they were huge.
Now she knew they just made it seem like that, to make the public more complacent in coming with them.
Instead, with six million of them on board, they were cramped. Originally, for the first few days, they’d been kept in small compartments, ten in each, where they had to sleep upright. Eventually they’d been moved to the zones, allowing each of them a sleeping area. At specified intervals every day, they all filed through the cafeteria for food. The rest of the time, they were free to do as they pleased – though there wasn’t anything to do but look out the windows, or look at the walls, or try talking to each other.
The first stop was some kind of waiting point, for them all to be accepted to other planets or something. They were told it was a miracle how quickly they’d arrived – two years into the journey. They were herded off to the verification station. This would provide each of them with identification. They spent their time at the verification station in human form. Many of the staff were humans from the Empire - and it would be best for them to blend in.
The ship had arrived in a port - to Mary, it looked like a slab of concrete. Except this one went on forever, for as far as her eyes could see, decorated in bright LED lights, and buzzing with people. The ships were beautiful. She saw huge, luxury starliners, where only the rich could fly, through bright, sparkling nebulae, and to see ancient and beautiful worlds, forgotten by civilisation but kissed by time. Then she saw the cargo ships, all oil and rust, to chug along steadily in the depths of space, making their way slowly through the darkness. In the distance, she could spy nippy little pods, for taking a quick zoom around the planet, and even the odd convertible speeder for jetting around the capital. Their ship attracted attention, as a ship that empties its cargo of a million people onto the tarmac would. Pilots and passengers and controllers and assistants all looked, as the Zygons were led out in neat rows.
They didn’t just look. It wasn’t a sideways glance. They stared.
It was likely that they’d seen the news. Everyone had. A war was rumoured, but only rumoured. It had barely even graduated to rumour status; it would be more appropriate to say it was still a prophecy. But seeing these millions of people running, it reaffirmed suspicions, and added fuel to the ever-burning fire of rumours, of a great war, throughout all of time and space.
Mary saw one man, with a bald head, and dressed in grease-splattered overalls, grimacing as they walked past. She saw somebody else who spat on the floor at the sight of them. They hadn’t expected a positive welcome, but they’d all expected better than this.
***
The verification split the group up in to rows, being led like cattle to desks, where they were to be given formal identification, as displaced persons within the Galactic Federation. Mary was in the line, waiting to be faced by a grim-looking woman in spectacles. The process was swift. No heirs and graces or friendly discussions, just simple – name, date of birth, and a number. That was all. No more time was wasted. Eventually Mary’s time came, and she stepped up to the intimidating woman.
“Name.”
“Lorych Qrorlzyntholicqm-Wrlil,” Mary replied.
The woman looked up from her papers and glared at her. “How do you expect me to spell that?”
Mary, after spelling out her name letter by letter for the woman, and providing her date of birth, was given a booklet with the details in, and a lanyard.
“Don’t lose this,” the woman said. “They can find grounds to imprison you without it. Furthermore, on any planets where the death penalty remains in place, it is likely you could be executed.”
Mary nodded, and walked on.
***
After being handed their identifications, they were led back out to the port. Most walked around, pleased to be able to have some fresh air for the first time in years – even if the air wasn’t that fresh. Instead, it was filled with smog. One or two sat huddled beneath blankets; those who struggled to sleep in halls full of people decided to sleep. Mary looked up to the sky, and took in the blueness of it, enjoying it while it lasted.
They weren’t going to be here for a long time. When everyone was identified, they were to be shipped off again. Mary knew this was the last time she would breathe the air, or see the sky, or feel the ground, for at least a year. A planet had been found. It would, hopefully, just be temporary, because after arrival, it would be time for the federation to vote.
If the motion was passed, they would be free, to live as they wanted, within different planets in the galactic federation.
If it was not, they would be forced into hiding.
The Zygon High Command, Earth - Friday 31st August, 1962
“We have an emergency.”
Herezek, the Supreme Commander of the mission, was to make a speech.
The ship had landed safely – well, it didn’t land. It was a scientific process that Mary didn’t understand. She’d never taken to sciences at school. Somehow they’d torn open a dimension within the ground, placed the spaceship inside, and that’s where they waited now. Or something like that.
The human forms had been disconnected. Other than those who were to work on the engine, which had been significantly damaged due to the nature of the landing process, and was now to be worked on under the guise of some human scientific project, they were ordered to kill the doubles. Mary, however, hadn’t given up on sciences completely, and managed to keep a DNA sample of her double. Should it be required, she could extrapolate it, and Mary the human could walk again.
Everyone was piling into the main hub, filling up the tiers, looking out on to a floating platform constructed in the centre of the chasm running down the centre of the ship. It was crowded, but Mary pushed her way to the front, much to the dismay of several patriots who scowled at her, to see their leader speak.
Herezek stood on the platform, looking out at all of them, a solemn look on his face.
“My people,” he started. “Unfortunately, today I bring grave news. It appears that we read the timelines wrong. We expected to find this planet primitive – but safe. Instead, I must inform you, this world is on the verge of nuclear war.”
There were gasps throughout the audience.
“Two factions wait to destroy each other, and soon, they will be close to falling over the edge, and letting destruction fall upon this world. But I have decided we will not let this happen. We have run from the possibility of another war – we will not see one here. I will place negotiators, on both sides. They will take human form, and they will help to create a peace. Because, though they may not know it, this world is providing us sanctuary, and they deserve something back in return. That is all, thank you.”
Mary stepped away, and she realised what she wanted to see. She wanted to see the world above her. So, when she slipped away into a quiet back room, she turned back into a human, and stepped out onto their world.
***
Mary and Jasmine took a set of steps, leading from the balcony to the floor beneath, as they continued on through the cavern. Jasmine gazed in awe, at all of the unborn Zygons, waiting for life.
“We saw the tensions between the Daleks and the Time Lords. Our governments were worried, but they didn’t do anything too extreme. Then, of course, came the toppling of the president, and in her place, Rassilon. News spread throughout the universe like wildfire, because we knew what would soon follow. A war. The greatest war the universe has ever seen. The war would not lead to the slaughter of the Daleks and the Time Lords. Instead it would lead to the butchering of innocents.”
Jasmine didn’t feel the need to argue on the Doctor’s side. She’d seen the look in his eye, when he’d heard the news about Rassilon. Every so often, she’d even looked into his eyes, and see fear. She’d ask him if everything was fine, and of course he’d lie, but she wasn’t stupid. She also believed what Mary said about the innocents. Jasmine had seen an angry Time Lord – they would fight to the bitter end, until the universe was dust around them.
“So we built this ship,” Mary gestured around her. “A lifeboat, to inspire others like us, other races who were scared of what could happen. And we filled it with millions – two million citizens, from the farmers to the warriors.”
“A whole society, packaged up and put on a ship.”
“If you like, yes. As well as a hatchery – another ten million Zygons, all yet to be born, so when we landed, they could be given a better life, free from war, free from suffering. And we journeyed into deep space, to find another world that we could call home.”
“You came across Earth…”
“Many worlds were considered. Many, from our time, rejected us. No room, economic troubles, public service strain, all that. So we had to go back in time, so we couldn’t be detected where we landed – so we could live in peace, but also in secret.”
Jasmine shivered. Mary’s turmoil reminded her of the stories she’d seen on the news.
“The journey wasn’t good,” Mary said. “Thousands died, from hunger or from sickness. But we didn’t make this journey for us. We made it for the ten million. Tell me, Jasmine. What does home mean for you?”
“Not too far from here, and a long way away," Jasmine said, more enigmatically than she had intended.”Magical cups of tea, and the smell of the market every morning."
Soon, the two of them stepped onto a clearing, in the middle of which was a strange, orange basin, bubbling with orange liquid.
“What is it?” Jasmine asked.
“In your terms… a birthing pool. This will, one day, bring life to ten million Zygons, to let them walk across the world.”
***
The national security officer had his case packed with the folders and papers he expected to require throughout the negotiations process. Of course, it also happened that the case doubled as the portable duplicate engine, to make sure both sides didn’t accidentally revert to their Zygon form when they were discussing a possible nuclear holocaust. Soldiers stood along the corridor, one by ones saluting him as he strode by, making his way towards the door at the end. It was through there that he would meet with the enemy. They would pretend they were the enemy for about half an hour, as both sides followed the script they put together, and then the deal would be done and everyone would go home. Of course, they did have to hope that the few human representatives present would behave themselves – though the majority of the negotiators were Zygons, a few humans did slip through the net. When they’d tried to salvage the two junior defense ministers from the bar out the back of their offices, they’d realised it wasn’t worth it – intoxicated duplicates didn’t make for very good vessels on Earth.
The doors parted, and the national security officer stepped inside. He shook hands with his Russian counterpart, who happened to be his best friend, and then sat opposite him.
“It is clear,” the Russian said. “That mutually assured destruction is not in anyone’s best interest. Surprisingly, I rather like living on this planet.”
The two of them had a bet – to see how many subtle jokes they could fit in.
“No, of course not,” the national security officer replied. “You’d have to be an alien to think such a thing.”
He spied a junior Soviet intelligence officer having to try hard not to giggle. The jokes would have to be subtle – the fate of the entire planet was at stake here.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” the head Soviet negotiator replied. “Now – down to business.”
They both knew they’d have to try and stifle the negotiations just a little bit – they couldn’t be too easy, otherwise people would begin to suspect.
“Our missiles in Cuba are at a similar distance in relation to you, as your missiles placed in countries like Turkey are to us…” the Soviet negotiator said, but his final few words melted in to a conglomeration of confusion and disbelief, as a small breeze, seemingly originating from nowhere, began to scatter their papers all over the room, much to the annoyance of the secretary whose responsibility it was to pick them up, and in the corner of the room, slowly materialising into existence, was a strange blue box.
The Zygons recognised the materialisation pattern, and the noise. The only boxes that appeared like that were TARDISes. And the only TARDIS that made a noise like that belonged to one man.
“Sorry I’m late.” The Doctor stood in the doorway. “I like to be on these panels, when a possible nuclear war is on the cards.”
“Who is this?!” the security advisor exclaimed. He surprised himself with how well it was delivered – he’d practised his lines, but he didn’t think he’d be able to go off script quite as well as he had.
“I know what’s going on here, and it won’t happen.”
“We are trying to put a peace process into motion!” one of the Russians – a genuine Russian – said.
“No,” the Doctor glared at the national security advisor, and pulled up a chair. “I understand. This war that you’ve run from, I’m hoping it doesn’t happen either – but I can’t guarantee that. I don’t want people to live in fear of it, and I’ll help you so you won’t. But just because you’ve come here to give your children a better life, doesn’t mean you can take the lives of the children of this world.”
“What are you talking about?” the security advisor asked. He was being genuine – he was definitely a Zygon, but the Doctor seemed to have conjured this plan up himself –
“I’ve found a world,” the Doctor said. “It’s empty. You could have a fresh start, somewhere brand new, somewhere far away. You could build a new society.”
The security advisor didn’t bother trying to retain his cover. “Doctor – I think you’ve got it wrong.”
“No. I haven’t,” the Doctor said. “So – will you come with me?”
“No.”
So the Doctor stepped back into his TARDIS, and he disappeared.
***
“You want a home,” Jasmine said. “I understand that. And no, don’t be scared about the Doctor. He’ll say anything to win. He will threaten destruction, he will threaten hell for you, but this is what we do, okay? We bring these children in to the world. That’s my decision, what I’ve decided, and he can’t change it. Maybe, for once, I’ve decided his rules aren’t right. Humans and Zygons, yes? Living alongside each other? Sounds brilliant.”
Mary smiled. “Thank you. Just… thank you.”
“So far I’ve seen a civilisation grow and develop, into a land where nobody was free and nobody could live how they wanted. If I want to get anything out of this – then this is what I want it to be. Ten million Zygon children to grow up, with ten million human children. Together.”
Mary grinned – finally, she was seeing everything she wanted. It was good.
“And – Mary. One day, you’ll see your mum. One day.”
“I can’t – I can’t thank you enough.”
“No. It’s my pleasure. Now. How do we operate this machine?”
“Jasmine,” a voice called. It was almost alien to her, a voice she hadn’t heard before. It was cold, and chilling, and calculating. When she turned around, it was the last voice she expected to see assigned to the man standing there.
“Doctor,” she replied.
“Step away from the controls.”
“No, Doctor. You got it wrong, these –”
“Jasmine,” he walked up to her, his face icy. “There are rules, you play by them, or you go.”
“That was when you created a society, Doctor – a – a barbaric society –”
“It was a mistake, and I admitted that. I won’t stand idly by and watch the world burn at the hands of the Zygons. I won’t let you help them. I’ve found a planet – it’s far away, and it’s empty. There are resources, with the supplies already on this ship, it’ll be the ideal location to restart your society, away from any potential war – and you’ll be far enough away to prevent you from hurting anyone.”
“Oh my god,” she looked at him, and finally began to realise why Tommy had decided to leave. “You’re an idiot.”
“Don’t you dare call me-”
“The Zygons don’t want to kill everyone on Earth! They’ve done nothing wrong, Doctor, they just happen to be here, like we are. Except unlike us, they just want to live, they don’t want to hurt people.”
The Doctor looked at her in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe how wrong he was.
“But I – I don’t understand,” the Doctor said. “The Zygons impersonating officials? To let the missiles destroy everyone?”
“The doubles in the government weren’t intended to ensure destruction,” Mary said. “They were intended to prevent it.”
As more and more was said, everything fell further in to place, and the Doctor, slowly, started to understand.
“And the ship? Why lock me in the ship?”
“Because we couldn’t risk you destroying it all – and it appears you have a tendency to do that. We didn’t want to purge this world, so only Zygons would set foot on it,” Mary confirmed. “We wanted to help you – so that your children wouldn’t have to feel like our children, when there was the threat of war. We didn’t want Earth to feel our fear, Doctor.”
“No. N- no, this isn’t possible.” The Doctor seemed to be physically trembling now, a look of disgust painted across his face, as he evaluated his actions, and saw everything he’d done. “I’m – I’m sorry.”
“You wanted to segregate them,” Jasmine whispered. “That’s racial cleansing, Doctor. That’s Dalek.”
He looked at her, shocked. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever -,” but he stopped himself, because he knew that Jasmine was right.
“All these rumours of a war, of a Time War, I opposed them,” the Doctor said. “Because of all the reasons the Zygons ran – children shouldn’t have to live in fear. And now… I’m just the one bringing the fear.”
“Doctor, it doesn’t matter now. We move on, and we sort it.”
“But, Jasmine, it does matter,” he began again. “Because every time I’ve faced the Daleks, and I’ve looked them in the eye, and put an end to whatever scheme they were devising, I could do it because I knew that I was right. I stayed alive for four years, four years, in one of their camps, and one of the things that kept me alive was that I knew that it was wrong – because I didn’t look at a person and hate them, I looked at a person and saw good. Every time Autumn Rivers betrayed me, I could trust her again, because I saw the good in her, and I saw what she could be! But what does it matter now? I can’t do it anymore, not now that I keep getting it wrong, and not knowing that I could just… lose myself to hatred at any second.”
“Doctor. Just because you’ve made mistakes, doesn’t justify you giving up. Instead it does the opposite. Surely you’ve got to keep going? Trying to make amends for what you did, and trying to see that good that you used to see? Because if you don’t, then you’re no better than the people who have taken Gallifrey from you.”
“Then what do I do, Jasmine? How can I sort it out, if the one time I try and sort it out, I just mess it up further? I even suggested the ultimate racial segregation, I can’t – I just – what do I do, Jasmine Sparks?”
Jasmine looked him in the eye. He looked up, slowly, understanding her response as she formulated it. An old man, Jasmine realised, taking that first step into today's world.
“Doctor… we help them.”
His eyes flickered, just for a moment, as he registered what she was saying. Finally, having heard it put into those four words, the four simple words he could understand more than anything else, his mind cleared, and he knew the answer to his question.
“Mary,” the Doctor walked over to her. “Please, I hope you understand. I don’t want this war, that some of my people seem to be pushing. Of course I don’t, how could I? And I want you to see, that I will do everything, everything that I can, to help you live here. Because you deserve better than this. You all do, and the reason this has happened is because of my people – and I’ll take responsibility for that. Now! This birthing pool!”
Mary smiled at him. “We have to switch on the flux capacitors, and prepare the amniotic infusion of the pods.”
The Doctor got to work, flicking switches and fiddling with buttons, as well as sonicing the odd bit of machinery.
“Each pod is wired in to the birthing pool – afterwards, we pump the solution through, and it begins the birthing process – the mixture in the pool should rearrange to form the body,” Mary joined him at the control panel.
“Activating the capacitors,” the Doctor cried.
“Prepping the birthing pool,” Mary pulled down a lever.
“Introducing the amniotic fluid to the inducing solution!”
“Pumping the solution through the system…”
“And on the count of three!” the Doctor yelped, delighted with their work. “Two! One!”
He pressed one, final button.
There was a brief period of silence, as all three of them (including Jasmine, who had very little idea of what was going on, other than that they were preparing for the birth) waited for the system to activate.
Then, the liquid in the birthing pool began to bubble, and forming within the gooey substance was the faint outline of a body. The first thing to emerge above the surface was a hand, small and sucker covered. Then, gradually, the liquid seemed to move, swirling into position; the head, and then the chest, and then the arms came fully in to view, before two legs emerged. At first it was there, but not distinct, like an impressionist artwork, until eventually it became clearer and clearer, and a body lay on top of the pool, floating in the liquid. The Doctor, Mary and Jasmine watched eagerly over the edge, at the new life that had just come in to existence, waiting for it to see its first sight, and draw its first breath.
Its eyes opened.
It continued to lie there, like a computer booting up for the first time – grappling with its mechanics and its systems, slowly realising how to work them. It made a few grunting noises, and blinked a few times, before clearly it began to grow restless, as it took in its new surroundings.
The Doctor looked at Mary, who stood in Zygon form, and reached in to grab the child. Their hands clasped each other, fingers interlocked, and Mary brought them in. Then, she reached forward, and picked the child up, like a mother with her newborn baby, before placing them gently on the ground.
The child looked up at them, its innocent eyes, free from pain, watering under the hue of the orange light.
“This is what we did it for,” Mary said. Jasmine saw that she was crying. “We did it so no child would be born in fear, and that they could live, happily.”
“Happiness doesn’t last forever, Mary,” the Doctor said. “There will always be fear. Children need fear. Without it… who would they be?”
“I know,” Mary nodded. “But just for these few moments. Just for these few moments – things are okay.”
The White House - Tuesday 16th October, 1962
The President, garbed in his dressing gown and his pyjamas, took a final sip of his whiskey. He wasn’t sure about it himself, but Lyndon had offered him one, so he accepted. And besides, he needed something strong after his ordeal today. When he finished, he placed the glass on the bedside table, and slipped out of his dressing gown, before quietly moving under the covers. His wife was already asleep, having gone to bed when he was awake, thinking to himself.
That’s when President Kennedy heard the noise.
He’d heard it a few times today, when the Doctor’s magical machine appeared in his office, and later transported him across the garden.
Before his head could hit the pillow, and inevitably carry him off to sleep, the President sighed, while also being secretly delighted – and climbed out of bed. He left the bedroom, and there, at the end of the corridor, was the mysterious blue box. The Doctor leaned against the door, smiling at him.
“Mr President. Come in.”
“Doctor – I need some sleep. And I’m in my pyjamas.”
“No need to worry,” the Doctor said, opening the door. “You’ll be fine as you are.”
Although it went against all of Kennedy’s instincts, he did so anyway – walking up to the Doctor, and stepping inside the box once more.
This time, the Doctor was alone.
“It was a shame you couldn’t meet Jasmine,” the Doctor said. “She’s my friend, we travel together – but she had stuff to do.”
And Tommy, the Doctor thought. Tommy would’ve loved this.
“This box – it still takes my breath away! Even now.”
“Last time, we only travelled just outside your office. Fairly dull, I know. So – I wanted to show you something. Not just my TARDIS – but something else.”
The Doctor, having only flicked a few switches and pulled down a lever, ran back down to the door. They couldn’t have gone very far – only moved to the end of the corridor, maybe the next. The Doctor pushed it open, and gestured for the President to follow him.
They were stood on a hill, and behind it, the sun was setting. There was another hill, just in the distance – not too far away, though. Close enough to see exactly what the Doctor wanted to show the President.
There was a statue. It took President Kennedy a few moments to realise who the statue was meant to be.
“No. That’s not – but I’m –”
The Doctor stood beside the President, smiling at his reaction of the huge, proud marble statue, of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, that stood on top of a hill, the sun slowly sinking in to the sky behind it, brightening up the backdrop the statue stood against of orange and red, and the brightest, brightest yellow.
The brightness. That’s how they’d remember President Kennedy’s presidency.
“But that’s me, and I’m – I’m in my pyjamas!” the President laughed, as he looked at his statue, his features perfectly carved in to the rock, from the detail on the hair, to the crispness of his best suit, to his eyes, gazing up at the sky, looking for hope.
When the President had finally finished laughing at the scene – a man dressed up ready for bed, looking at a statue of himself - he just stood and smiled sadly. “It’s beautiful. But – why me?”
“Peace, President Kennedy. You wanted peace and hope for everyone. And when I told you my plan earlier, you told me I was wrong. Now I see that you were right.”
“What happened, in the end?” the President asked.
“I was wrong. I was an idiot. I tried to fix it, but it was Jasmine, and the Zygon Mary, and you, who really did the fixing. I thought you deserved to see this, Mr President.”
“What year are we in?” the President asked.
“Oh – beyond the year one million at least, give or take.”
The President’s smile was almost bittersweet, as he was shocked that anybody would be willing to love him enough to build a statue of him. He turned to the Doctor, the sun glistening in his hair (real hair, not marble hair), and said two words.
“Thank you.”
***
Galactic Federation - Wednesday 23rd October, 1 million (human calendar)
The member for Xothemi B breathed a deep sigh of relief, when the final star system declared its position on the motion. Everyone else in the parliament seemed to recognise that every planet and system had spoken on the motion, and the noise of chatter quickly erupted, only to be very swiftly shut down by the speaker, waving his gavel in one, slimy tentacle.
“Order! ORDER!” he cried, slamming the wooden hammer down on his desk. The speaker had a very powerful set of lungs, capable of carrying his voice to everyone, and regardless of his vocal range, his strength meant he could make everyone quiet with one or two swift swings of his hammer.
“Now we hear from other guest speakers, who wish to make their voices heard on the matter!”
There were unanimous groans, like a classroom of school children having been informed of an upcoming surprise mock exam, as everyone sat back down again.
“I call upon Jasmine Sparks!”
The member for Xothemi B had never heard of Jasmine Sparks, and didn’t particularly care either, but he sat back and listened regardless.
***
It was daunting, being led through the entrance in to the parliament by one of the clerks, who gestured at a row of seats near the front. It was huge, bigger than any parliamentary system Jasmine had ever seen on Earth. The chamber was circular, with a huge glass ceiling, revealing the stars above. The members of the various planets and star systems sat on raised seating, consisting of circular tiers. Breaking through the middle of one of the tiers in the middle, was an outstretched platform, on top of which sat a strange, humanoid creature, with a head similar to that of a cephalopod, and two, long, suckered tentacles stretching out instead of arms.
Jasmine had the idea as soon as Mary saw the TARDIS, and explained how it could travel in time. Then she knew that they had to do something.
Jasmine took her seat, as the debate continued – someone with half a cybernetic face was currently stood up discussing the motion. Eventually, he sat down, and then, everybody began to move. The speaker wielded a gavel, almost the size of a croquet club, and whacked it down on his desk.
“Order! ORDER!”
Jasmine was shocked by the volume of the speaker’s voice. There was no visible microphone, or other volume-enhancing technology visible. He could project his voice across the almighty chamber with ease.
“Now we hear from other guest speakers, who wish to make their voices heard on the matter! I call upon Jasmine Sparks!”
This is it, she said to herself.
Then she stood up.
Millions of eyes were upon her. Nobody knew her. Nobody knew who she was.
“Hello,” she said. “My name is Jasmine Sparks – as you know.” She glanced at her notes, and then, on impulse, decided to stuff the papers away in her pocket.
Idiot.
“I don’t know how to put this nicely – because there isn’t really a way to put it nicely – but I don’t think you really know what you’re talking about.”
There were gasps across the chamber – almost Pantomime-esque gasps of shock and horror – as this strange young woman told thousands of experienced politicians that they were wrong.
“Because I don’t know how many of you have ever had everything you ever knew taken away from you, just like that. The place you grew up, the people that made you who you are, everything that contributed towards being the person that you are today. I can almost guarantee that none of you know what it is to not know what home is.”
As Jasmine spoke, she began to settle in. Just slightly, her words began to pick up speed, and the trembles and stammers brought upon by a million alien eyes slowly began to vanish.
“And I can’t lie – neither do I. Somebody else I know wants to talk about that in a minute. But… I know what it’s like to have someone look at you, and see someone else. It’s terrifying, because you can’t do anything. It’s hard to kill an idea. That’s what you’ve been doing, millions of Zygons, who are scared, because you see them as something disgusting – but all they’re doing, is running away from a war that might happen. And don’t bury your heads in the sand, because believe me, if you don’t prepare for this, then you’ll all be dead pretty early on.”
Jasmine had seen the fear in the Doctor’s eyes, when he talked about the Daleks, and before, when he’d heard about Rassilon. It was terror, unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
“These are scared people who are running, but you won’t acknowledge them, because you think they’re something else. But likewise - I also know the beautiful feeling of euphoria when that same person sees past that, and sees you for who you are now – not what you might be. Yes, you might be economically unstable, but seriously, if you don’t pull together now, then do you really expect others to do it for you, if you ever needed somewhere to go?”
“I’m from Earth,” she said. “Not Earth today, Earth from a while ago – and we had the Zygons turn up on our planet.”
Cries erupted from the seating, of things like ‘you take them!’ and other words she didn’t understand. However, the maliciousness with which they were said implied they were probably racial slurs.
“It’s not that we don’t want to take them – we’re quite willing to take all of them, and give them homes. And you know what? We’d be proud. Proud to watch ten million Zygon children grow up alongside ten million human children. But that isn’t the point, the point is that you won’t. The point is that you only care for yourselves, and couldn’t care less about those who don’t have what you have. My speech now, it isn’t a bid to get you to take them – because they’ve found a home. This is just me letting you know what it’s like. But – I can’t do that quite as well as this person can.”
“I’m – sorry?” the President gasped. “With respect, Doctor, you have just told me that there are missiles capable of wiping out the United States of America, positioned only in Cuba. Now is not the time for me to be leaving post.”
The Doctor walked over and pushed the door open. President Kennedy’s face turned pale.
“It’s… bigger. On the inside! I promised we’d put a man on the moon, but that… this is so much more!”
“You’d believe me when I said it travels in time, then?”
“My entire grasp of physics has just been shaken up, I think I’d believe anything.”
“Mr President, step into my box.”
President Kennedy, as reluctant as one would be after witnessing a concept that completely destroyed everything they ever understood about the world they lived in, stepped slowly into the strange police box. It was British, he noted. He vaguely remembered seeing one in London. As he entered, he was almost as shocked as when he’d seen it from the outside, and he realised that it wasn’t some kind of smoke and mirrors trick; it was, instead, real. An almighty chamber compressed into six bright walls. A throaty, wheezy sound echoing in the chamber. Buttons and switches and lights of all different colours, against the pure white walls. Then, stood over the console, was another man; short, stood up on a cane, fiddling with some of the equipment.
“Doctor!” the man cried. “The capacitors are burned out! What’ve you been doing to this thing? Universe-hopping?”
“Yes,” the Doctor joined the withered old man at what the President assumed was the control centre of this bizarre machine.
“Mr President, I nearly forgot – this is Dr Siddiqui. He’s not usually with me, he’s just been kind enough to lend a hand,” the Doctor glared at him. Dr Siddiqui began to hobble over, balancing intently on cane.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the President walked over to Dr Siddiqui and shook his hand.
“I should be having some bionic limbs fitted soon, but again, they couldn’t get the –”
Dr Siddiqui caught sight of the Doctor and shut up.
“Sorry! I forget, 1962, you haven’t even invented floppy disks!”
“Siddiqui, grow up,” the Doctor pulled a lever, and then the great column in the middle shuddered, and began to move up and down. “As I said, he’s only temporary.”
“So, this box,” Kennedy gazed around him. “What’s it for? And what am I doing here?”
“This box travels in space and time, Mr President, we can use it to go anywhere. The reason we need your help – well, imagine the scenario. Say you’ve got thousands of people, driven out of their homes by conflict, and angry, ready to retaliate – what do you do?”
“Well, it’s our duty to help them. I always wanted to do that. That’s why we had the Peace Corps. But – we can’t let them abuse the rights that we hold.”
“The Peace Corps, a great organisation consisting of anyone wanting to help build bridges with others of different nationalities.”
“Glad to see you’ve done your research, Doctor.”
“There are rumours, Mr President, of a war. A greater war than this world, or any other world, has ever known. There are some who have already started running – and thousands have come here, to Earth. But – and it hurts to say this, but – they don’t look like they’ve come peacefully.”
“As I said, Doctor,” the President replied. “It’s our duty to help them. But if they abuse our rights, then we have another duty as well.”
***
“Mr President,” the Doctor pulled a lever, and the TARDIS came to a stop. “I don’t know how much of this you’ll believe.”
“Quite a lot of it, I should expect,” the president replied, chuckling to himself about the absurdity of the situation.
The Doctor opened the door of his strange bigger-on-the-inside box, and led the president outside. They hadn’t gone that far – there was a bench, just in the rose garden.
“You said anywhere in time and space – and we’re in my back garden.”
“Sorry, we haven’t gone too far, but they wouldn’t have let us out here if they’d seen you walking with a completely random stranger. Mr President – the whole reason I want to talk to you, is because I want your advice.”
“Usually I’m the one asking for the advice.”
“I’ll explain the situation in more detail. This world has visitors – they’re called the Zygons. Some want to live in peace – but they’ve done that by infiltrating your government, and the government of the Soviet Union, and they’re going to make sure the negotiations over these missiles in Cuba fail. Then –”
“Mutually assured destruction,” the President finished the Doctor’s sentence.
“Of course, you are the most powerful man in the world. But you’re also President Kennedy – who is, at heart, a peacemaker. And I needed to know what you thought – because the reason they need this world to live, is that their own is in danger.”
“Can’t we negotiate with them? See if we can find an option that works for both sides?”
“The Zygons are angry – I don’t know what sort of mood they’ll be in. But I’ve found something else, another world, completely brand new, where they can live as they want. Do I show them that world?”
“Doctor – that is the ultimate racial segregation. You know that I can’t agree to that.”
***
They’d left the bridge, and made their way down some spiral steps. At the bottom, they came to a sudden halt, and Jasmine and Mary stepped into the mouth of a great tunnel. It went on for a while, doing what perspective did – slowly closing in on itself, revealing a glowing, orange light at the end. Mary walked just slightly ahead, leading the way, Jasmine following close beside her.
“Zygons have stunning architecture,” Jasmine remembered the main cave, with the huge pillars, stretching right through the ship, covered in suckers, and the beams entwined with them, propping up the different tiers, each with a number of pods embedded into the walls.
“The ship was constructed specifically for this mission. It was the ‘Pride of Zygor’,” Mary quoted, in a way to suggest that she didn’t agree with it. “We were to be the awe of the galaxy.”
“So – this is a battleship? To… I don’t know, prepare yourself, for this war that the Doctor’s mentioned a few times, and that you keep mentioning.”
Mary did not answer. She grew restless, and walked, looking directly in front of her. “Have you seen any weapons?”
“No,” Jasmine said. “The missiles – they were schematics of the missiles being used by humanity.”
“Exactly. You’ve seen none. That’s because there are none.”
Then Jasmine realised that the Doctor was an idiot. “Oh,” she murmured. “I get it, now.”
“The Doctor has words, Jasmine. But words can be weaved to appeal. They can be tailored in a specific way for a specific person.”
Jasmine thought back to Tommy, and wondered exactly what the Doctor had said to him originally. What the Doctor had said to inspire him. What the Doctor had said to make him in awe of him.
“This is what the Doctor is the master of – manipulating his words, so he can manipulate people. He convinced you to believe that this was a battleship – that we were arming ourselves for this prophesised war. I think that’s terrifying.”
“The Doctor is many things,” Jasmine began. “And yes, sometimes he manipulates, and when he does, I hate him for it. But sometimes he genuinely believes he’s right – but he exerts this… authority, that makes it seem to everyone else that he’s right. That’s terrifying.”
There was a brief moment of silence.
“This ship, Jasmine. It’s not a battleship, it’s a lifeboat.”
They’d arrived at the end of the tunnel, and then she saw. They stood on a balcony, overlooking a cavern, almost as big as the one from earlier. Except there were rows, of the same half rocky, half-gelatinous material the walls were made out of. They were stacked like tall shelves, divided up as little compartments, and within each, a window, small and round like a porthole.
“These are the Zygons you’re saving?” Jasmine asked.
“These aren’t fully grown. This is a Zygon hatchery. There are millions of Zygons in here, Jasmine. Millions who haven’t even been born. Jasmine… I want you to know why we made this journey.”
***
And just like that, home was gone.
Lorych Qrorlzyntholicqm-Wrlil, to be known on Earth as Mary, watched her world disappear through the back of a spaceship window. She placed a palm against the glass as it slowly vanished into nothingness, and was replaced by the endless emptiness of space. Then, eventually, she turned away from the window, and back to her passengers. The compartment was not very big, and there were benches along each wall, where all of them sat. They sat in the human forms that had been prepared for them back home – they wanted to be able to mix with the destination as easily as possible, to avoid any complications. By complications, they meant the struggle that would occur should any of them arrived ‘unmasked’. Everybody sat in silence. Nobody knew each other, but it was easier that way. Those who were to be protected were chosen at random. This gave everybody a fairer chance, and made sure all evacuees were part of one unit, instead of separating in to families or clans. Of course, it meant they’d been taken from their homes, and from their families. In the places that they’d grown up.
With the blink of an eye, Mary was back in her village. She stood on the pathway, facing the rows of houses. She knew the pathway well; she’d walked it so many times. She took a left into the playground, and traced her fingers along a steel pole, part of the structure of a swing set. It was rusted, but it always had been, even when she was young herself. It must be old, part of this village forever, just as the pole remained part of the structure of the swings. The wind gently rocked the seat, backwards and forwards, its emptiness noticeable. The swings were never empty. There was always somebody playing. It finally dawned on her that there was nobody. All of it she reimagined so vividly, but not the people. Maybe the people were too real for the dream. Maybe it was too painful to imagine them.
She could remember the day that they’d come for her. Two of them knocked on the door. Her mother had answered. Mary knew who they were without even needing to see. Her mother’s screams gave it away. The communications channels had been broadcasting the news for months – that there was to be a mass evacuation. A random selection would take place, to decide which members of society would best be suited to ‘restarting’ Zygon culture anew. But none of her family would think anything about it. They were a remote outpost, far from the golden cities. Just an old place, abandoned by the rest of the world, as time slowly passed by. They were wrong.
Originally, Mary refused. Her father came home and refused (albeit, much more angrily). Her mother could not say anything, she just sobbed.
“She’s only seventeen years old!” her father had cried. “Please, you cannot take her.”
“The government has selected her,” one of the collectors replied. “I’m sorry. We have no choice. It is for her safety. She will be far away from here; she will lead a better life than this.”
“A life without us,” her father said.
“But she will live! Our world lives in fear. It could begin, at any minute now, a war could break out, and we would be trapped in the centre, and all of us, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, could burn. Your daughter will live.”
“No!” father cried. “I won’t let you.”
The collectors nodded at each other, and came over to her, ready to take her by force.
“It’s all right,” Mary raised a hand. “I’ll go.”
“You can’t just –”
“Dad. I have no choice. One day, we will all be back together. You, me, mum, Qirauk. All of us. Space is only a distance, and it is a distance that can be travelled. And one day, we will do it.”
He hugged her, and then kissed her cheek. “Stay safe. You do what you do best. Wherever you may be going now, do not worry.”
“I won’t.”
Then she stepped over to mum, who couldn’t speak due to the crying. She was such a sight it made Mary laugh.
“You’re such a wreck,” Mary giggled. Her mum snivelled and looked at her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just, I’m sorry.”
“Is that a mum thing? Apologising for everything. I’ll be back.”
“But what if –”
“Stop it.”
“If –”
“It won’t come to that.”
“These – trips. You hear about them from other planets. They go on the ships, but they don’t make the journey.”
“It won’t be like that for me. These are government ships, mum. I’ll make it.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Thank you. I cannot stress that more. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what mums do. You’ll make a great one.”
“Yeah… maybe I will.”
Ten years had passed, and those were still the last words that Mary had said to her family.
***
It was soon that they arrived at the first stop on their journey. Mary had promised her mum that she’d be fine, that this was government funded, she wouldn’t die. She shouldn’t have promised it. Three dead already. When illness struck the ship, it was hard to find treatment in deep space. It had, at the beginning, seemed like a sizeable ship. When she saw them on the news, she thought they were huge.
Now she knew they just made it seem like that, to make the public more complacent in coming with them.
Instead, with six million of them on board, they were cramped. Originally, for the first few days, they’d been kept in small compartments, ten in each, where they had to sleep upright. Eventually they’d been moved to the zones, allowing each of them a sleeping area. At specified intervals every day, they all filed through the cafeteria for food. The rest of the time, they were free to do as they pleased – though there wasn’t anything to do but look out the windows, or look at the walls, or try talking to each other.
The first stop was some kind of waiting point, for them all to be accepted to other planets or something. They were told it was a miracle how quickly they’d arrived – two years into the journey. They were herded off to the verification station. This would provide each of them with identification. They spent their time at the verification station in human form. Many of the staff were humans from the Empire - and it would be best for them to blend in.
The ship had arrived in a port - to Mary, it looked like a slab of concrete. Except this one went on forever, for as far as her eyes could see, decorated in bright LED lights, and buzzing with people. The ships were beautiful. She saw huge, luxury starliners, where only the rich could fly, through bright, sparkling nebulae, and to see ancient and beautiful worlds, forgotten by civilisation but kissed by time. Then she saw the cargo ships, all oil and rust, to chug along steadily in the depths of space, making their way slowly through the darkness. In the distance, she could spy nippy little pods, for taking a quick zoom around the planet, and even the odd convertible speeder for jetting around the capital. Their ship attracted attention, as a ship that empties its cargo of a million people onto the tarmac would. Pilots and passengers and controllers and assistants all looked, as the Zygons were led out in neat rows.
They didn’t just look. It wasn’t a sideways glance. They stared.
It was likely that they’d seen the news. Everyone had. A war was rumoured, but only rumoured. It had barely even graduated to rumour status; it would be more appropriate to say it was still a prophecy. But seeing these millions of people running, it reaffirmed suspicions, and added fuel to the ever-burning fire of rumours, of a great war, throughout all of time and space.
Mary saw one man, with a bald head, and dressed in grease-splattered overalls, grimacing as they walked past. She saw somebody else who spat on the floor at the sight of them. They hadn’t expected a positive welcome, but they’d all expected better than this.
***
The verification split the group up in to rows, being led like cattle to desks, where they were to be given formal identification, as displaced persons within the Galactic Federation. Mary was in the line, waiting to be faced by a grim-looking woman in spectacles. The process was swift. No heirs and graces or friendly discussions, just simple – name, date of birth, and a number. That was all. No more time was wasted. Eventually Mary’s time came, and she stepped up to the intimidating woman.
“Name.”
“Lorych Qrorlzyntholicqm-Wrlil,” Mary replied.
The woman looked up from her papers and glared at her. “How do you expect me to spell that?”
Mary, after spelling out her name letter by letter for the woman, and providing her date of birth, was given a booklet with the details in, and a lanyard.
“Don’t lose this,” the woman said. “They can find grounds to imprison you without it. Furthermore, on any planets where the death penalty remains in place, it is likely you could be executed.”
Mary nodded, and walked on.
***
After being handed their identifications, they were led back out to the port. Most walked around, pleased to be able to have some fresh air for the first time in years – even if the air wasn’t that fresh. Instead, it was filled with smog. One or two sat huddled beneath blankets; those who struggled to sleep in halls full of people decided to sleep. Mary looked up to the sky, and took in the blueness of it, enjoying it while it lasted.
They weren’t going to be here for a long time. When everyone was identified, they were to be shipped off again. Mary knew this was the last time she would breathe the air, or see the sky, or feel the ground, for at least a year. A planet had been found. It would, hopefully, just be temporary, because after arrival, it would be time for the federation to vote.
If the motion was passed, they would be free, to live as they wanted, within different planets in the galactic federation.
If it was not, they would be forced into hiding.
The Zygon High Command, Earth - Friday 31st August, 1962
“We have an emergency.”
Herezek, the Supreme Commander of the mission, was to make a speech.
The ship had landed safely – well, it didn’t land. It was a scientific process that Mary didn’t understand. She’d never taken to sciences at school. Somehow they’d torn open a dimension within the ground, placed the spaceship inside, and that’s where they waited now. Or something like that.
The human forms had been disconnected. Other than those who were to work on the engine, which had been significantly damaged due to the nature of the landing process, and was now to be worked on under the guise of some human scientific project, they were ordered to kill the doubles. Mary, however, hadn’t given up on sciences completely, and managed to keep a DNA sample of her double. Should it be required, she could extrapolate it, and Mary the human could walk again.
Everyone was piling into the main hub, filling up the tiers, looking out on to a floating platform constructed in the centre of the chasm running down the centre of the ship. It was crowded, but Mary pushed her way to the front, much to the dismay of several patriots who scowled at her, to see their leader speak.
Herezek stood on the platform, looking out at all of them, a solemn look on his face.
“My people,” he started. “Unfortunately, today I bring grave news. It appears that we read the timelines wrong. We expected to find this planet primitive – but safe. Instead, I must inform you, this world is on the verge of nuclear war.”
There were gasps throughout the audience.
“Two factions wait to destroy each other, and soon, they will be close to falling over the edge, and letting destruction fall upon this world. But I have decided we will not let this happen. We have run from the possibility of another war – we will not see one here. I will place negotiators, on both sides. They will take human form, and they will help to create a peace. Because, though they may not know it, this world is providing us sanctuary, and they deserve something back in return. That is all, thank you.”
Mary stepped away, and she realised what she wanted to see. She wanted to see the world above her. So, when she slipped away into a quiet back room, she turned back into a human, and stepped out onto their world.
***
Mary and Jasmine took a set of steps, leading from the balcony to the floor beneath, as they continued on through the cavern. Jasmine gazed in awe, at all of the unborn Zygons, waiting for life.
“We saw the tensions between the Daleks and the Time Lords. Our governments were worried, but they didn’t do anything too extreme. Then, of course, came the toppling of the president, and in her place, Rassilon. News spread throughout the universe like wildfire, because we knew what would soon follow. A war. The greatest war the universe has ever seen. The war would not lead to the slaughter of the Daleks and the Time Lords. Instead it would lead to the butchering of innocents.”
Jasmine didn’t feel the need to argue on the Doctor’s side. She’d seen the look in his eye, when he’d heard the news about Rassilon. Every so often, she’d even looked into his eyes, and see fear. She’d ask him if everything was fine, and of course he’d lie, but she wasn’t stupid. She also believed what Mary said about the innocents. Jasmine had seen an angry Time Lord – they would fight to the bitter end, until the universe was dust around them.
“So we built this ship,” Mary gestured around her. “A lifeboat, to inspire others like us, other races who were scared of what could happen. And we filled it with millions – two million citizens, from the farmers to the warriors.”
“A whole society, packaged up and put on a ship.”
“If you like, yes. As well as a hatchery – another ten million Zygons, all yet to be born, so when we landed, they could be given a better life, free from war, free from suffering. And we journeyed into deep space, to find another world that we could call home.”
“You came across Earth…”
“Many worlds were considered. Many, from our time, rejected us. No room, economic troubles, public service strain, all that. So we had to go back in time, so we couldn’t be detected where we landed – so we could live in peace, but also in secret.”
Jasmine shivered. Mary’s turmoil reminded her of the stories she’d seen on the news.
“The journey wasn’t good,” Mary said. “Thousands died, from hunger or from sickness. But we didn’t make this journey for us. We made it for the ten million. Tell me, Jasmine. What does home mean for you?”
“Not too far from here, and a long way away," Jasmine said, more enigmatically than she had intended.”Magical cups of tea, and the smell of the market every morning."
Soon, the two of them stepped onto a clearing, in the middle of which was a strange, orange basin, bubbling with orange liquid.
“What is it?” Jasmine asked.
“In your terms… a birthing pool. This will, one day, bring life to ten million Zygons, to let them walk across the world.”
***
The national security officer had his case packed with the folders and papers he expected to require throughout the negotiations process. Of course, it also happened that the case doubled as the portable duplicate engine, to make sure both sides didn’t accidentally revert to their Zygon form when they were discussing a possible nuclear holocaust. Soldiers stood along the corridor, one by ones saluting him as he strode by, making his way towards the door at the end. It was through there that he would meet with the enemy. They would pretend they were the enemy for about half an hour, as both sides followed the script they put together, and then the deal would be done and everyone would go home. Of course, they did have to hope that the few human representatives present would behave themselves – though the majority of the negotiators were Zygons, a few humans did slip through the net. When they’d tried to salvage the two junior defense ministers from the bar out the back of their offices, they’d realised it wasn’t worth it – intoxicated duplicates didn’t make for very good vessels on Earth.
The doors parted, and the national security officer stepped inside. He shook hands with his Russian counterpart, who happened to be his best friend, and then sat opposite him.
“It is clear,” the Russian said. “That mutually assured destruction is not in anyone’s best interest. Surprisingly, I rather like living on this planet.”
The two of them had a bet – to see how many subtle jokes they could fit in.
“No, of course not,” the national security officer replied. “You’d have to be an alien to think such a thing.”
He spied a junior Soviet intelligence officer having to try hard not to giggle. The jokes would have to be subtle – the fate of the entire planet was at stake here.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” the head Soviet negotiator replied. “Now – down to business.”
They both knew they’d have to try and stifle the negotiations just a little bit – they couldn’t be too easy, otherwise people would begin to suspect.
“Our missiles in Cuba are at a similar distance in relation to you, as your missiles placed in countries like Turkey are to us…” the Soviet negotiator said, but his final few words melted in to a conglomeration of confusion and disbelief, as a small breeze, seemingly originating from nowhere, began to scatter their papers all over the room, much to the annoyance of the secretary whose responsibility it was to pick them up, and in the corner of the room, slowly materialising into existence, was a strange blue box.
The Zygons recognised the materialisation pattern, and the noise. The only boxes that appeared like that were TARDISes. And the only TARDIS that made a noise like that belonged to one man.
“Sorry I’m late.” The Doctor stood in the doorway. “I like to be on these panels, when a possible nuclear war is on the cards.”
“Who is this?!” the security advisor exclaimed. He surprised himself with how well it was delivered – he’d practised his lines, but he didn’t think he’d be able to go off script quite as well as he had.
“I know what’s going on here, and it won’t happen.”
“We are trying to put a peace process into motion!” one of the Russians – a genuine Russian – said.
“No,” the Doctor glared at the national security advisor, and pulled up a chair. “I understand. This war that you’ve run from, I’m hoping it doesn’t happen either – but I can’t guarantee that. I don’t want people to live in fear of it, and I’ll help you so you won’t. But just because you’ve come here to give your children a better life, doesn’t mean you can take the lives of the children of this world.”
“What are you talking about?” the security advisor asked. He was being genuine – he was definitely a Zygon, but the Doctor seemed to have conjured this plan up himself –
“I’ve found a world,” the Doctor said. “It’s empty. You could have a fresh start, somewhere brand new, somewhere far away. You could build a new society.”
The security advisor didn’t bother trying to retain his cover. “Doctor – I think you’ve got it wrong.”
“No. I haven’t,” the Doctor said. “So – will you come with me?”
“No.”
So the Doctor stepped back into his TARDIS, and he disappeared.
***
“You want a home,” Jasmine said. “I understand that. And no, don’t be scared about the Doctor. He’ll say anything to win. He will threaten destruction, he will threaten hell for you, but this is what we do, okay? We bring these children in to the world. That’s my decision, what I’ve decided, and he can’t change it. Maybe, for once, I’ve decided his rules aren’t right. Humans and Zygons, yes? Living alongside each other? Sounds brilliant.”
Mary smiled. “Thank you. Just… thank you.”
“So far I’ve seen a civilisation grow and develop, into a land where nobody was free and nobody could live how they wanted. If I want to get anything out of this – then this is what I want it to be. Ten million Zygon children to grow up, with ten million human children. Together.”
Mary grinned – finally, she was seeing everything she wanted. It was good.
“And – Mary. One day, you’ll see your mum. One day.”
“I can’t – I can’t thank you enough.”
“No. It’s my pleasure. Now. How do we operate this machine?”
“Jasmine,” a voice called. It was almost alien to her, a voice she hadn’t heard before. It was cold, and chilling, and calculating. When she turned around, it was the last voice she expected to see assigned to the man standing there.
“Doctor,” she replied.
“Step away from the controls.”
“No, Doctor. You got it wrong, these –”
“Jasmine,” he walked up to her, his face icy. “There are rules, you play by them, or you go.”
“That was when you created a society, Doctor – a – a barbaric society –”
“It was a mistake, and I admitted that. I won’t stand idly by and watch the world burn at the hands of the Zygons. I won’t let you help them. I’ve found a planet – it’s far away, and it’s empty. There are resources, with the supplies already on this ship, it’ll be the ideal location to restart your society, away from any potential war – and you’ll be far enough away to prevent you from hurting anyone.”
“Oh my god,” she looked at him, and finally began to realise why Tommy had decided to leave. “You’re an idiot.”
“Don’t you dare call me-”
“The Zygons don’t want to kill everyone on Earth! They’ve done nothing wrong, Doctor, they just happen to be here, like we are. Except unlike us, they just want to live, they don’t want to hurt people.”
The Doctor looked at her in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe how wrong he was.
“But I – I don’t understand,” the Doctor said. “The Zygons impersonating officials? To let the missiles destroy everyone?”
“The doubles in the government weren’t intended to ensure destruction,” Mary said. “They were intended to prevent it.”
As more and more was said, everything fell further in to place, and the Doctor, slowly, started to understand.
“And the ship? Why lock me in the ship?”
“Because we couldn’t risk you destroying it all – and it appears you have a tendency to do that. We didn’t want to purge this world, so only Zygons would set foot on it,” Mary confirmed. “We wanted to help you – so that your children wouldn’t have to feel like our children, when there was the threat of war. We didn’t want Earth to feel our fear, Doctor.”
“No. N- no, this isn’t possible.” The Doctor seemed to be physically trembling now, a look of disgust painted across his face, as he evaluated his actions, and saw everything he’d done. “I’m – I’m sorry.”
“You wanted to segregate them,” Jasmine whispered. “That’s racial cleansing, Doctor. That’s Dalek.”
He looked at her, shocked. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever -,” but he stopped himself, because he knew that Jasmine was right.
“All these rumours of a war, of a Time War, I opposed them,” the Doctor said. “Because of all the reasons the Zygons ran – children shouldn’t have to live in fear. And now… I’m just the one bringing the fear.”
“Doctor, it doesn’t matter now. We move on, and we sort it.”
“But, Jasmine, it does matter,” he began again. “Because every time I’ve faced the Daleks, and I’ve looked them in the eye, and put an end to whatever scheme they were devising, I could do it because I knew that I was right. I stayed alive for four years, four years, in one of their camps, and one of the things that kept me alive was that I knew that it was wrong – because I didn’t look at a person and hate them, I looked at a person and saw good. Every time Autumn Rivers betrayed me, I could trust her again, because I saw the good in her, and I saw what she could be! But what does it matter now? I can’t do it anymore, not now that I keep getting it wrong, and not knowing that I could just… lose myself to hatred at any second.”
“Doctor. Just because you’ve made mistakes, doesn’t justify you giving up. Instead it does the opposite. Surely you’ve got to keep going? Trying to make amends for what you did, and trying to see that good that you used to see? Because if you don’t, then you’re no better than the people who have taken Gallifrey from you.”
“Then what do I do, Jasmine? How can I sort it out, if the one time I try and sort it out, I just mess it up further? I even suggested the ultimate racial segregation, I can’t – I just – what do I do, Jasmine Sparks?”
Jasmine looked him in the eye. He looked up, slowly, understanding her response as she formulated it. An old man, Jasmine realised, taking that first step into today's world.
“Doctor… we help them.”
His eyes flickered, just for a moment, as he registered what she was saying. Finally, having heard it put into those four words, the four simple words he could understand more than anything else, his mind cleared, and he knew the answer to his question.
“Mary,” the Doctor walked over to her. “Please, I hope you understand. I don’t want this war, that some of my people seem to be pushing. Of course I don’t, how could I? And I want you to see, that I will do everything, everything that I can, to help you live here. Because you deserve better than this. You all do, and the reason this has happened is because of my people – and I’ll take responsibility for that. Now! This birthing pool!”
Mary smiled at him. “We have to switch on the flux capacitors, and prepare the amniotic infusion of the pods.”
The Doctor got to work, flicking switches and fiddling with buttons, as well as sonicing the odd bit of machinery.
“Each pod is wired in to the birthing pool – afterwards, we pump the solution through, and it begins the birthing process – the mixture in the pool should rearrange to form the body,” Mary joined him at the control panel.
“Activating the capacitors,” the Doctor cried.
“Prepping the birthing pool,” Mary pulled down a lever.
“Introducing the amniotic fluid to the inducing solution!”
“Pumping the solution through the system…”
“And on the count of three!” the Doctor yelped, delighted with their work. “Two! One!”
He pressed one, final button.
There was a brief period of silence, as all three of them (including Jasmine, who had very little idea of what was going on, other than that they were preparing for the birth) waited for the system to activate.
Then, the liquid in the birthing pool began to bubble, and forming within the gooey substance was the faint outline of a body. The first thing to emerge above the surface was a hand, small and sucker covered. Then, gradually, the liquid seemed to move, swirling into position; the head, and then the chest, and then the arms came fully in to view, before two legs emerged. At first it was there, but not distinct, like an impressionist artwork, until eventually it became clearer and clearer, and a body lay on top of the pool, floating in the liquid. The Doctor, Mary and Jasmine watched eagerly over the edge, at the new life that had just come in to existence, waiting for it to see its first sight, and draw its first breath.
Its eyes opened.
It continued to lie there, like a computer booting up for the first time – grappling with its mechanics and its systems, slowly realising how to work them. It made a few grunting noises, and blinked a few times, before clearly it began to grow restless, as it took in its new surroundings.
The Doctor looked at Mary, who stood in Zygon form, and reached in to grab the child. Their hands clasped each other, fingers interlocked, and Mary brought them in. Then, she reached forward, and picked the child up, like a mother with her newborn baby, before placing them gently on the ground.
The child looked up at them, its innocent eyes, free from pain, watering under the hue of the orange light.
“This is what we did it for,” Mary said. Jasmine saw that she was crying. “We did it so no child would be born in fear, and that they could live, happily.”
“Happiness doesn’t last forever, Mary,” the Doctor said. “There will always be fear. Children need fear. Without it… who would they be?”
“I know,” Mary nodded. “But just for these few moments. Just for these few moments – things are okay.”
The White House - Tuesday 16th October, 1962
The President, garbed in his dressing gown and his pyjamas, took a final sip of his whiskey. He wasn’t sure about it himself, but Lyndon had offered him one, so he accepted. And besides, he needed something strong after his ordeal today. When he finished, he placed the glass on the bedside table, and slipped out of his dressing gown, before quietly moving under the covers. His wife was already asleep, having gone to bed when he was awake, thinking to himself.
That’s when President Kennedy heard the noise.
He’d heard it a few times today, when the Doctor’s magical machine appeared in his office, and later transported him across the garden.
Before his head could hit the pillow, and inevitably carry him off to sleep, the President sighed, while also being secretly delighted – and climbed out of bed. He left the bedroom, and there, at the end of the corridor, was the mysterious blue box. The Doctor leaned against the door, smiling at him.
“Mr President. Come in.”
“Doctor – I need some sleep. And I’m in my pyjamas.”
“No need to worry,” the Doctor said, opening the door. “You’ll be fine as you are.”
Although it went against all of Kennedy’s instincts, he did so anyway – walking up to the Doctor, and stepping inside the box once more.
This time, the Doctor was alone.
“It was a shame you couldn’t meet Jasmine,” the Doctor said. “She’s my friend, we travel together – but she had stuff to do.”
And Tommy, the Doctor thought. Tommy would’ve loved this.
“This box – it still takes my breath away! Even now.”
“Last time, we only travelled just outside your office. Fairly dull, I know. So – I wanted to show you something. Not just my TARDIS – but something else.”
The Doctor, having only flicked a few switches and pulled down a lever, ran back down to the door. They couldn’t have gone very far – only moved to the end of the corridor, maybe the next. The Doctor pushed it open, and gestured for the President to follow him.
They were stood on a hill, and behind it, the sun was setting. There was another hill, just in the distance – not too far away, though. Close enough to see exactly what the Doctor wanted to show the President.
There was a statue. It took President Kennedy a few moments to realise who the statue was meant to be.
“No. That’s not – but I’m –”
The Doctor stood beside the President, smiling at his reaction of the huge, proud marble statue, of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, that stood on top of a hill, the sun slowly sinking in to the sky behind it, brightening up the backdrop the statue stood against of orange and red, and the brightest, brightest yellow.
The brightness. That’s how they’d remember President Kennedy’s presidency.
“But that’s me, and I’m – I’m in my pyjamas!” the President laughed, as he looked at his statue, his features perfectly carved in to the rock, from the detail on the hair, to the crispness of his best suit, to his eyes, gazing up at the sky, looking for hope.
When the President had finally finished laughing at the scene – a man dressed up ready for bed, looking at a statue of himself - he just stood and smiled sadly. “It’s beautiful. But – why me?”
“Peace, President Kennedy. You wanted peace and hope for everyone. And when I told you my plan earlier, you told me I was wrong. Now I see that you were right.”
“What happened, in the end?” the President asked.
“I was wrong. I was an idiot. I tried to fix it, but it was Jasmine, and the Zygon Mary, and you, who really did the fixing. I thought you deserved to see this, Mr President.”
“What year are we in?” the President asked.
“Oh – beyond the year one million at least, give or take.”
The President’s smile was almost bittersweet, as he was shocked that anybody would be willing to love him enough to build a statue of him. He turned to the Doctor, the sun glistening in his hair (real hair, not marble hair), and said two words.
“Thank you.”
***
Galactic Federation - Wednesday 23rd October, 1 million (human calendar)
The member for Xothemi B breathed a deep sigh of relief, when the final star system declared its position on the motion. Everyone else in the parliament seemed to recognise that every planet and system had spoken on the motion, and the noise of chatter quickly erupted, only to be very swiftly shut down by the speaker, waving his gavel in one, slimy tentacle.
“Order! ORDER!” he cried, slamming the wooden hammer down on his desk. The speaker had a very powerful set of lungs, capable of carrying his voice to everyone, and regardless of his vocal range, his strength meant he could make everyone quiet with one or two swift swings of his hammer.
“Now we hear from other guest speakers, who wish to make their voices heard on the matter!”
There were unanimous groans, like a classroom of school children having been informed of an upcoming surprise mock exam, as everyone sat back down again.
“I call upon Jasmine Sparks!”
The member for Xothemi B had never heard of Jasmine Sparks, and didn’t particularly care either, but he sat back and listened regardless.
***
It was daunting, being led through the entrance in to the parliament by one of the clerks, who gestured at a row of seats near the front. It was huge, bigger than any parliamentary system Jasmine had ever seen on Earth. The chamber was circular, with a huge glass ceiling, revealing the stars above. The members of the various planets and star systems sat on raised seating, consisting of circular tiers. Breaking through the middle of one of the tiers in the middle, was an outstretched platform, on top of which sat a strange, humanoid creature, with a head similar to that of a cephalopod, and two, long, suckered tentacles stretching out instead of arms.
Jasmine had the idea as soon as Mary saw the TARDIS, and explained how it could travel in time. Then she knew that they had to do something.
Jasmine took her seat, as the debate continued – someone with half a cybernetic face was currently stood up discussing the motion. Eventually, he sat down, and then, everybody began to move. The speaker wielded a gavel, almost the size of a croquet club, and whacked it down on his desk.
“Order! ORDER!”
Jasmine was shocked by the volume of the speaker’s voice. There was no visible microphone, or other volume-enhancing technology visible. He could project his voice across the almighty chamber with ease.
“Now we hear from other guest speakers, who wish to make their voices heard on the matter! I call upon Jasmine Sparks!”
This is it, she said to herself.
Then she stood up.
Millions of eyes were upon her. Nobody knew her. Nobody knew who she was.
“Hello,” she said. “My name is Jasmine Sparks – as you know.” She glanced at her notes, and then, on impulse, decided to stuff the papers away in her pocket.
Idiot.
“I don’t know how to put this nicely – because there isn’t really a way to put it nicely – but I don’t think you really know what you’re talking about.”
There were gasps across the chamber – almost Pantomime-esque gasps of shock and horror – as this strange young woman told thousands of experienced politicians that they were wrong.
“Because I don’t know how many of you have ever had everything you ever knew taken away from you, just like that. The place you grew up, the people that made you who you are, everything that contributed towards being the person that you are today. I can almost guarantee that none of you know what it is to not know what home is.”
As Jasmine spoke, she began to settle in. Just slightly, her words began to pick up speed, and the trembles and stammers brought upon by a million alien eyes slowly began to vanish.
“And I can’t lie – neither do I. Somebody else I know wants to talk about that in a minute. But… I know what it’s like to have someone look at you, and see someone else. It’s terrifying, because you can’t do anything. It’s hard to kill an idea. That’s what you’ve been doing, millions of Zygons, who are scared, because you see them as something disgusting – but all they’re doing, is running away from a war that might happen. And don’t bury your heads in the sand, because believe me, if you don’t prepare for this, then you’ll all be dead pretty early on.”
Jasmine had seen the fear in the Doctor’s eyes, when he talked about the Daleks, and before, when he’d heard about Rassilon. It was terror, unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
“These are scared people who are running, but you won’t acknowledge them, because you think they’re something else. But likewise - I also know the beautiful feeling of euphoria when that same person sees past that, and sees you for who you are now – not what you might be. Yes, you might be economically unstable, but seriously, if you don’t pull together now, then do you really expect others to do it for you, if you ever needed somewhere to go?”
“I’m from Earth,” she said. “Not Earth today, Earth from a while ago – and we had the Zygons turn up on our planet.”
Cries erupted from the seating, of things like ‘you take them!’ and other words she didn’t understand. However, the maliciousness with which they were said implied they were probably racial slurs.
“It’s not that we don’t want to take them – we’re quite willing to take all of them, and give them homes. And you know what? We’d be proud. Proud to watch ten million Zygon children grow up alongside ten million human children. But that isn’t the point, the point is that you won’t. The point is that you only care for yourselves, and couldn’t care less about those who don’t have what you have. My speech now, it isn’t a bid to get you to take them – because they’ve found a home. This is just me letting you know what it’s like. But – I can’t do that quite as well as this person can.”
Mary stood up. Jasmine could see she was shaking, and so smiled up at her, as if to air a telepathic ‘you can do this’.
“H- hello,” Mary said. Already she was stumbling over her words. “T- t- today, I wanted to tell you w – what it’s like, to be me.”
A general feel of embarrassment spread throughout the members of the Galactic Federation, feeling sorrier for this woman for standing up and making a fool of herself, than bored at having to sit through another speech.
“Because – it isn’t easy. I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep.”
As she spoke, her voice began to pick up momentum.
“Years ago, now, I climbed onto a spaceship, with millions more, to journey across the universe, in search of somewhere we could be safe.”
That feeling of embarrassment suddenly disappeared.
“It was hell. Every single day of my life for several years was hell. Millions of us, crammed into this spaceship, barely enough food to go around. We lost people along the way. We lost lots of people – friends and family. Then, whenever we take a brief stop, we see the eyes of those watching us, and we see that they hate our existence. It seemed like there was no point.”
The feeling was replaced by something else. Jasmine noticed it, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
“And today – today I finally understood why. I mean, I always knew why I was doing it from the beginning – why we were all doing it. Because we wanted our children to have a future where they were safe, and where they were happy, and where they didn’t live in fear. Occasionally, I lost track of that – when we were all crammed into that spaceship, and every other week or so, somebody would die from a fever, or any other sickness would catch up with them, I couldn’t see the point. I’d think to myself, why? Because we’re just losing more people that we love. But then, today, we activated the birthing pool for the first time.”
That was it. The feeling was guilt.
“We brought ten million Zygon eggs with us, ready to be birthed when we arrived at our new home. And today, we activated it, and I saw a new life enter this world. I saw the innocence in its eyes. I saw its apprehension as it looked around at the world. But I saw excitement. Most importantly, I saw a life that wouldn’t end up being taken over by fear, or war. I saw a life that would be happy. That’s why we made the trip.”
There was a wave of understanding, of sympathy, and of sadness, at the ordeal of what these refugees had gone through, as Mary continued with her speech.
“So – if there are any parents here, who have ever looked in to the eyes of their children, and wanted to protect them, and guide them into a world without worry, or anxiety, and then saw their excited, innocent eyes, you’ll understand that actually, we want for our children what you all want for yours. Surely that’s enough for us to unite?”
It was a rhetorical question, but it was met with nods.
“That’s what it’s like to be me. It’s so far from being like any of you – no comforts to go to, no safe place to be, but at the same time – we are all the same. We all want to feel loved, and we all want our children to feel love. Thank you.”
Mary sat down, and a brief silence followed.
Then somebody clapped.
It was, at first, just one person, daring enough to throw caution to the wind and ignore protocol completely. But then it was joined by another, and another, then three more, then ten more. And soon, the majority of people in the parliament chamber, were stood up, and applauding the young girl.
The feeling in the room had changed again. It was pride.
***
“Order! Order!” the speaker cried, trying to shush the members of the galactic parliament. The chamber was filled with constant chatter, from all the members, as they eagerly awaited the results of the vote that had enthused so many. The member for Xothemi B (who had voted against the motion) took his seat once more, having logged his vote. Though the results were yet to be declared, many thought it obvious which way the outcome was to be – that was until the guest speakers.
“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 passed, on a majority of 456,577 to 116,061.”
The giant croquet-sized gavel was drawn, and the Zygons were granted freedom.
***
Gallifrey
"Well, that was an unexpected outcome."
Rassilon switched off his time-space visualiser, and dimmed the lights of his personal quarters. The chair reclined to his will, finally reliably tuned, on a psychic level, to his preferences.
He enjoyed these moments of peace, precious nuggets between the war. He couldn't have them all the time; they would drive him mad. But it was important to recharge, and important to think. He described himself as a Philosopher-King, after all.
There was a knock at the door. The door, also telepathically-sensitive, clicked open at his will.
"Have you seen the news, Aeneas?"
The servant placed Rassilon's dinner on the table, and smiled in both admiration and terror at his leader.
"Yes, Lord President."
"Surprising, is it not?"
"Yes, Lord President."
"Look at them all..." Rassilon switched the time-space visualiser back on again. The news reel was still going. Politicians flickered across the screen, trying to get home past the mob of cameramen and journalists, also secretly wanting to get home themselves. "They need to decide their loyalties, Aeneas. I will pass the six-hundredth amendment. And when I do... they'd better hope they decided to support the Time Lords in this war." He looked his servant in the eye, sending a shiver down his spine. "There's nothing more important than loyalty."
"My loyalties are with you always, Lord President. Goodnight." Aeneas bowed, and left Rassilon alone in his personal quarters, doing whatever a man like Rassilon did. Aeneas positively knew, as he walked down the corridors towards the Panoptican, that he was telling the truth. His loyalties were with Rassilon.
But he thought again of Amendment 600, and wondered whether they really should have been.
“H- hello,” Mary said. Already she was stumbling over her words. “T- t- today, I wanted to tell you w – what it’s like, to be me.”
A general feel of embarrassment spread throughout the members of the Galactic Federation, feeling sorrier for this woman for standing up and making a fool of herself, than bored at having to sit through another speech.
“Because – it isn’t easy. I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep.”
As she spoke, her voice began to pick up momentum.
“Years ago, now, I climbed onto a spaceship, with millions more, to journey across the universe, in search of somewhere we could be safe.”
That feeling of embarrassment suddenly disappeared.
“It was hell. Every single day of my life for several years was hell. Millions of us, crammed into this spaceship, barely enough food to go around. We lost people along the way. We lost lots of people – friends and family. Then, whenever we take a brief stop, we see the eyes of those watching us, and we see that they hate our existence. It seemed like there was no point.”
The feeling was replaced by something else. Jasmine noticed it, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
“And today – today I finally understood why. I mean, I always knew why I was doing it from the beginning – why we were all doing it. Because we wanted our children to have a future where they were safe, and where they were happy, and where they didn’t live in fear. Occasionally, I lost track of that – when we were all crammed into that spaceship, and every other week or so, somebody would die from a fever, or any other sickness would catch up with them, I couldn’t see the point. I’d think to myself, why? Because we’re just losing more people that we love. But then, today, we activated the birthing pool for the first time.”
That was it. The feeling was guilt.
“We brought ten million Zygon eggs with us, ready to be birthed when we arrived at our new home. And today, we activated it, and I saw a new life enter this world. I saw the innocence in its eyes. I saw its apprehension as it looked around at the world. But I saw excitement. Most importantly, I saw a life that wouldn’t end up being taken over by fear, or war. I saw a life that would be happy. That’s why we made the trip.”
There was a wave of understanding, of sympathy, and of sadness, at the ordeal of what these refugees had gone through, as Mary continued with her speech.
“So – if there are any parents here, who have ever looked in to the eyes of their children, and wanted to protect them, and guide them into a world without worry, or anxiety, and then saw their excited, innocent eyes, you’ll understand that actually, we want for our children what you all want for yours. Surely that’s enough for us to unite?”
It was a rhetorical question, but it was met with nods.
“That’s what it’s like to be me. It’s so far from being like any of you – no comforts to go to, no safe place to be, but at the same time – we are all the same. We all want to feel loved, and we all want our children to feel love. Thank you.”
Mary sat down, and a brief silence followed.
Then somebody clapped.
It was, at first, just one person, daring enough to throw caution to the wind and ignore protocol completely. But then it was joined by another, and another, then three more, then ten more. And soon, the majority of people in the parliament chamber, were stood up, and applauding the young girl.
The feeling in the room had changed again. It was pride.
***
“Order! Order!” the speaker cried, trying to shush the members of the galactic parliament. The chamber was filled with constant chatter, from all the members, as they eagerly awaited the results of the vote that had enthused so many. The member for Xothemi B (who had voted against the motion) took his seat once more, having logged his vote. Though the results were yet to be declared, many thought it obvious which way the outcome was to be – that was until the guest speakers.
“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 passed, on a majority of 456,577 to 116,061.”
The giant croquet-sized gavel was drawn, and the Zygons were granted freedom.
***
Gallifrey
"Well, that was an unexpected outcome."
Rassilon switched off his time-space visualiser, and dimmed the lights of his personal quarters. The chair reclined to his will, finally reliably tuned, on a psychic level, to his preferences.
He enjoyed these moments of peace, precious nuggets between the war. He couldn't have them all the time; they would drive him mad. But it was important to recharge, and important to think. He described himself as a Philosopher-King, after all.
There was a knock at the door. The door, also telepathically-sensitive, clicked open at his will.
"Have you seen the news, Aeneas?"
The servant placed Rassilon's dinner on the table, and smiled in both admiration and terror at his leader.
"Yes, Lord President."
"Surprising, is it not?"
"Yes, Lord President."
"Look at them all..." Rassilon switched the time-space visualiser back on again. The news reel was still going. Politicians flickered across the screen, trying to get home past the mob of cameramen and journalists, also secretly wanting to get home themselves. "They need to decide their loyalties, Aeneas. I will pass the six-hundredth amendment. And when I do... they'd better hope they decided to support the Time Lords in this war." He looked his servant in the eye, sending a shiver down his spine. "There's nothing more important than loyalty."
"My loyalties are with you always, Lord President. Goodnight." Aeneas bowed, and left Rassilon alone in his personal quarters, doing whatever a man like Rassilon did. Aeneas positively knew, as he walked down the corridors towards the Panoptican, that he was telling the truth. His loyalties were with Rassilon.
But he thought again of Amendment 600, and wondered whether they really should have been.
Two Hours Later
“Jasmine,” the Doctor said, looking out of the TARDIS, to see if she was still there. They’d parked up the following day, where a bench overlooked the Thames, and Jasmine had gone outside to sit. The London skyline was so depleted, compared to what she was used to. Obvious buildings were missing – but in general, it looked less enthusiastic, and less bold, like it hadn’t quite reached its full potential. She’d glanced at a paper, retelling the story of the Cuban Missile Crisis in a slightly more condensed manner than Jasmine thought it had ever happened.
She’d heard the Doctor come out, but hadn’t answered to her name. Then she thought of a question.
“When I was in school, I learned that the Cuban Missile Crisis went on for two weeks, or something like that. But – in… wherever we are now, it happened in a day.”
“Remember what I said yesterday? When we got out in the TARDIS and it was raining? Time is relative, Jasmine. It’s always changing, just twisting itself slightly, usually in little ways. When we walk in space and time, we leave footprints, and those footprints can sometimes make differences – but they’re so small, we barely even notice.”
“But surely if I ask anyone, from my time, how long the Cuban Missile Crisis went on for, they’ll say a day. The warmest day of the cold war, or something, they like labelling things.”
“Maybe. I don’t know – but these consequences, they are tiny, Jasmine.”
“You were concerned, though – you know, when we first discovered that the Zygons had travelled in time, I saw that look – you were terrified.”
“It’s like ripples, Jasmine. The size of the ripples in the water depends on the size of the stone you drop in. And I was worried because this prophecy that they’ve run from, it could have huge ramifications on time. It could have almighty ripples.”
“Don’t call it a prophecy, Doctor. They were scared.”
“Okay –”
“This is why Tommy left, Doctor. Because what they see as the end of their world, you see it as a few misinterpreted words. Back on that world, when they worshiped you as their god – you just saw it as words. Words are powerful. They create ideas – and when they become ideas, ideas are harder to kill.”
“And I promise – because Tommy deserved better, and now, I’ve realised that you deserve better. This is why I need a companion, Jasmine – because without one, I become this. Worse than this. All I’m asking is… help me.”
Jasmine paused, and turned around, and smiled at the old man. He was anxious. It was a look of genuine worry.
“I’ll help you.”
She stood up, and walked over to him. He pushed open the doors of his little blue box, and she stepped inside. The Doctor looked out onto the river, and realised how lucky he was. He whispered two words.
Thank you.
They were carried off by the wind, and just became part of the breeze blowing over the river.
Then, the Doctor followed Jasmine Sparks inside, and shut the door behind him.
“Jasmine,” the Doctor said, looking out of the TARDIS, to see if she was still there. They’d parked up the following day, where a bench overlooked the Thames, and Jasmine had gone outside to sit. The London skyline was so depleted, compared to what she was used to. Obvious buildings were missing – but in general, it looked less enthusiastic, and less bold, like it hadn’t quite reached its full potential. She’d glanced at a paper, retelling the story of the Cuban Missile Crisis in a slightly more condensed manner than Jasmine thought it had ever happened.
She’d heard the Doctor come out, but hadn’t answered to her name. Then she thought of a question.
“When I was in school, I learned that the Cuban Missile Crisis went on for two weeks, or something like that. But – in… wherever we are now, it happened in a day.”
“Remember what I said yesterday? When we got out in the TARDIS and it was raining? Time is relative, Jasmine. It’s always changing, just twisting itself slightly, usually in little ways. When we walk in space and time, we leave footprints, and those footprints can sometimes make differences – but they’re so small, we barely even notice.”
“But surely if I ask anyone, from my time, how long the Cuban Missile Crisis went on for, they’ll say a day. The warmest day of the cold war, or something, they like labelling things.”
“Maybe. I don’t know – but these consequences, they are tiny, Jasmine.”
“You were concerned, though – you know, when we first discovered that the Zygons had travelled in time, I saw that look – you were terrified.”
“It’s like ripples, Jasmine. The size of the ripples in the water depends on the size of the stone you drop in. And I was worried because this prophecy that they’ve run from, it could have huge ramifications on time. It could have almighty ripples.”
“Don’t call it a prophecy, Doctor. They were scared.”
“Okay –”
“This is why Tommy left, Doctor. Because what they see as the end of their world, you see it as a few misinterpreted words. Back on that world, when they worshiped you as their god – you just saw it as words. Words are powerful. They create ideas – and when they become ideas, ideas are harder to kill.”
“And I promise – because Tommy deserved better, and now, I’ve realised that you deserve better. This is why I need a companion, Jasmine – because without one, I become this. Worse than this. All I’m asking is… help me.”
Jasmine paused, and turned around, and smiled at the old man. He was anxious. It was a look of genuine worry.
“I’ll help you.”
She stood up, and walked over to him. He pushed open the doors of his little blue box, and she stepped inside. The Doctor looked out onto the river, and realised how lucky he was. He whispered two words.
Thank you.
They were carried off by the wind, and just became part of the breeze blowing over the river.
Then, the Doctor followed Jasmine Sparks inside, and shut the door behind him.
Next Time: Hello EarthA phonecall, on an ordinary day in a house on Primrose Hill.
A human on Gallifrey, with her travelling companion, the Doctor. A name: Jasmine. Jasmine Sparks' fragmented life makes so little sense that even the Time Lords aren't quite sure where they came from. But it had a beginning, and it will have an end. This is one of her many stories: how she met the Doctor, and what happened to Autumn Rivers. Hello Earth will be published on Saturday 1st October. |
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