prologue
“Once upon a time, there stood a golden society upon the surface of the Red Planet. Upon the snows and the rocks, great spires of crystal and silver rose, high up into the atmosphere, and when one stood at the top they could see for miles and miles around, at the dust plains beyond the city. The juxtaposition of the blood-crimson against the gleaming white snows and buildings was truly a sight to behold.
The Martian society were governed by a brutal law, and the government itself was a corrupt and vicious monarchy. For any crime, no matter how small, the Emperor of Mars would sentence the criminal to lashes, and he would wield the whip himself. Often, criminals would be crucified on the hills of Mars, and would be left to turn the snows red. Heads would roll, hands were sliced off and eyeballs were gouged out.
Eventually, the situation became worse, when the Emperor began to fund an extremist group who went by the name of the Ice Warriors. They waged a war upon the universe, and they made the actions of the Martian monarchy appear tame. This order spilled blood, in order to spearhead their deadly ideology, and they would stop at nothing. Of course, many planets declared war upon the Ice Warriors. Thousands did. Would it ever change anything? Never. Because the roots of the conflict, the roots that shall become clear to you, were continually fertilised, by all those thousands of planets.
Across the universe, there were many Martians who lived peacefully on other planets - and many lived peacefully beside them. But it is crucial to know that there were many who refused - and it is these people who were just as disgusting as the Ice Warriors themselves.
Today, you shall find out about the events that led to this truly led to this situation out of hand, and what it took for the people of Earth to look to the skies and do something about it.”
The Martian society were governed by a brutal law, and the government itself was a corrupt and vicious monarchy. For any crime, no matter how small, the Emperor of Mars would sentence the criminal to lashes, and he would wield the whip himself. Often, criminals would be crucified on the hills of Mars, and would be left to turn the snows red. Heads would roll, hands were sliced off and eyeballs were gouged out.
Eventually, the situation became worse, when the Emperor began to fund an extremist group who went by the name of the Ice Warriors. They waged a war upon the universe, and they made the actions of the Martian monarchy appear tame. This order spilled blood, in order to spearhead their deadly ideology, and they would stop at nothing. Of course, many planets declared war upon the Ice Warriors. Thousands did. Would it ever change anything? Never. Because the roots of the conflict, the roots that shall become clear to you, were continually fertilised, by all those thousands of planets.
Across the universe, there were many Martians who lived peacefully on other planets - and many lived peacefully beside them. But it is crucial to know that there were many who refused - and it is these people who were just as disgusting as the Ice Warriors themselves.
Today, you shall find out about the events that led to this truly led to this situation out of hand, and what it took for the people of Earth to look to the skies and do something about it.”
THE EIGHTH DOCTOR ADVENTURES
series 5 - episode 5
a frosty future
written by ryder smith
and ed goundrey-smith
The TARDIS came to a stop, nearly jolting Lizzie from her chair. She couldn’t tell if it was just the ship or the Doctor’s flying ability – it often seemed like he just hoped for the best. And it was always a bumpy ride, she’d found. Still, it worked. Well, mostly. She got up from her seat, and put down the book she’d been reading: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe - Vol. 6. One of the Doctor’s friends had left it, along with a pair of slippers.
She went up the stairs, passing under the aquarium – which housed lots of exotic fish – and found the Doctor sat in his armchair beside the console. He was too busy looking at the screen to notice her.
“So,” she began, pausing for dramatic effect. “Where are we this time?”
“Ah, Lizzie, there you are,” he said, getting up. He glanced back at the screen before answering. “Earth, 22nd Century.”
“Near-future then. That’s cool.”
“Yes, it is a cold day. How did you know?”
“No, I didn’t...never mind,” she waved away his question, as he’d busied himself checking various different instruments. “What’s it, erm, like out there? How have things, you know, changed?”
The Doctor paused what he was doing, and gazed at her. Except, he wasn’t exactly looking at her, more through her. As if he was somehow gazing into time itself. It was strange, he seemed both happy and sad, wistful too. The weight of time and space around him. A burden he seemed to carry with him everywhere, always in silence. Seconds later, he was back to normal.
“Well,” he began, the word echoing around the large console room. “In some ways a lot has changed, certainly in a global sense, and there’s the space travel, even attempts at colonisation, but in many ways it’s the same. There are still skyscrapers, and cars, houses, people and so much beauty. By this point, humanity has overcome a lot, and achieved so much. It’s fascinating really.”
“So we can go and explore?” Lizzie gestured toward the doors.
“Well, seeing as we’re here,” he flicked a switch, and the interior doors swung open.
Lizzie went first. Opening the exterior door, she found herself in a bustling marketplace. Thereseemed to be hundreds of people, each one moving between the stalls, looking at what was on offer, buying knickknacks and trinkets. The stalls were incredibly diverse, selling a whole range of things. And the smell was incredible, a mixture of fragrances and spices.
“This is London’s Central market, you’ll find pretty much everything here. And, they do amazing coffees, or at least they did, funny what 100 years can do.”
“Coffee then sightseeing?”
“Sounds like a plan," Lizzie decided, that on such an adventure she was going to dare move away from her traditional ground of various teas.
The Doctor led her along the main thoroughfare, in amongst the crowds. It seemed strange to be walking in a crowd full of people who, to her, hadn’t even been born yet – especially when this wasn’t that far into the future. But, it felt reassuring to her to see everyone going about their lives, busying themselves with various things, just as they would in her time. The Doctor was right then, things weren’t so different here.
The marketplace opened out into a large, open space. Like a town square. There were benches, and large fern-like plants. It was a nice area, too – one which would be perfect for events. Lizzie glanced down at the floor, and noticed that there were in-built lights which, presumably, lit up in a range of colours. Pink for Valentines, green for St Patrick’s, and rainbow for Pride. It’d be a proper little light show.
Without warning, several soldiers appeared. They were all dressed in black,, the thick material was expertly woven and waved around the body snugly, as if they were specially fitted for each individual person. Gun-metal grey pressure plates were strapped onto the side of each shoulder and kneecaps, like the protection typically associated with football. They were each carrying a machine gun.
“Stay where you are,” one commanded, presumably the group's leader – most likely a corporal or a sargeant. Lizzie wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but, naturally, she put her hands up. Her mind raced through questions. Who were these soldiers? What did they want with them? Were they going to kill her and the Doctor?
“Ah, you’re UNIT,” the Doctor observed. “Do you mind telling me why you have us surrounded – with guns?”
“What’s UNIT?” Lizzie whispered.
“Unified Intelligence Taskforce,” he whispered back, as if it explained everything.
“That’s...that’s not really explained anything.”
“Oh, right, yes. Sorry. They protect the Earth from alien threats. I used to work for them, actually.”
“Doctor, that you?” A woman appeared, cutting through the soldiers. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, with frizzy-yet-neat hair, and was grasping a small handheld device by her side. “Got yourself a new regeneration, I take it?”
“You’re clearly the one in charge,” noted the Doctor, edging towards her. “And yes, I am the Doctor. But not quite a new regeneration. Well, I suppose it depends on your perspective.”
“Ah, an older regeneration,” she replied, glancing at her handheld. “Surprising this doesn’t happen more often.”
“Who are you?”
“Jo Stewart. Head of UNIT UK.”
“Well, Jo Stewart, I’m guessing there’s some kind of situation, given this lot?”
“Yes, there is,” she admitted. “Plus, they do love a run out.”
Lizzie, who had been stood around awkwardly, quietly cleared her throat. “What, erm, kind of situation?”
“It’s probably better to show you. We’ll head back to HQ.” She gestured to the lead-soldier, who stood their troops down, and marched them out of the square.
“Tower of London?” the Doctor asked.
“Oh, no, we’ve not used that for years,” replied Jo, walking off in the same direction as the soldiers.
Lizzie shared a nervous glance with the Doctor. What was it they were being thrust into? And who exactly was Jo Stewart? She didn’t know, and she did not like that.
“We’ll be fine,” he told her reassuringly. “Come on, best not keep her waiting.”
* * *
“Yep… we’re in the tallest building in the city. Exactly 350 metres above sea level. Higher than the Shard,” Jo pushed open a pair of double doors, revealing an almighty office.
UNIT HQ in this time was a remarkably different affair to how the Doctor was used to finding it. Jo led them into an open plan office, all glass and steel, with people in a menagerie of suits and white coats operating computers, wearing headsets and typing vigorously. People were passing in and out of the room, and there was a constant stream of activity. On the wall, there was a great holographic screen, with a map of London in net form, the buildings and streets all taking the form of tiny neon blue squares.
Lizzie walked to the window, looking out over the city below her. Because it was all below her, they were so high up, with the thick crystalline cloud only metres above them. Below her, everything was augmented, with even the glorious brickwork architecture modified with alloys and compounds to become ‘super’, which Lizzie was sure was just code for ‘really good at making more money’. That’s all the inner city was - the place where the money was made. Beyond the glass surrounding her, there would be suburbs and slums, where people crawled along in their daily lives, either just scraping above the poverty line or sinking far below it. Everything was controlled for the purposes of money making, no matter what the consequence.
Lizzie turned to see the Doctor beside her. “The city is so beautiful,” he said, looking out.
“Yeah,” she murmured. And it was, albeit tainted at the same time.
Jo joined them, pointing upwards. “That’s the situation.”
The Doctor looked at her, and then out again. “You mean…”
“The cloud. Yep. One night, it wasn’t there. Next morning, it was.”
“It just appeared overnight?” the Doctor questioned, walking over to a scientist and peering over their shoulder at the readings.
“It’s a dense fog, basically. We’ve isolated gases and found oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, argon - it’s your everyday fog, except it’s lying across half the country constantly at an exact height of 356 metres above sea level,” Jo pointed at various graphs and diagrams and maps on the wall screen, although the Doctor didn’t seem hugely interested. “Temperatures all over the country have dropped by varying amounts, so that the whole of the UK is being kept at exactly 3.25 degrees celsius. No fluctuations in that whatsoever.”
“Excuse me, can I use your computer?” the Doctor asked one of the scientists. He turned to Jo, who nodded, and the scientist moved. “3.25 degrees is the optimum temperature for fog,” the Doctor tapped away. “How is this all so… constant.” He took the remote control by the side of the computer and pointed it at Jo’s screen.
“Apologies,” he muttered. Jo scowled at him as her graph and diagrams disappeared.
“We gave 100 people 100 seconds to answer the facts upon the board,” declared the Osmanbot. “The facts being, of course, about the Cloud.”
“What are you doing?” Jo was aware that the Doctor had a reputation of unconventional methods, although she couldn’t see how watching Pointless was going to help them. Lizzie prepared herself for the usual excuse for browsing the television of the respective planets they visited - ‘I’m checking media channels’.
“I’m checking media channels…”
The Doctor pressed the remote again. Lizzie made a mental note to see if they had space Pointless on iPlayer later.
“It’s clear! This Cloud is just another act of terrorism. Or, at least, that is how it will be treated by those at the top! They’ll brush it under the carpet, and tell you that the war upon intergalactic terror is going well. Let me tell you this, citizens of the Empire. It is not!”
The Doctor changed the channel again.
“Trust Cullengate to have something to say,” Jo murmured, although the Doctor ignored her.
“Hello and welcome to DIY SOS. Today’s build comes from a family who have had the upper portions of their house obliterated by the Cloud. Yep, the thick condensation has given them an extreme case of damp, and after stripping the wallpaper, they discovered that the entire back-end of their suburban property just down the road from Chester’s largest solar mill was falling apart from the sheer wetness!”
“Humanity is so beautiful,” the Doctor smiled. “No matter what adversity you face, you bind together and you muddle through. Glorious.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Jo looked sceptical.
“Alien or not, who knows. But regardless whether it’s just a miracle of nature, you’re all in trouble. NHS winter crisis? Except all year round. Farmers? Out of business. I don’t even know if your infrastructure would cope with it.”
“Well, the cloud layer obviously isn’t natural,” Lizzie watched the way the thick fog covered the Big Ben, the London Eye, and the whole city.
“I’ll inform the Prime Minister,” Jo told the Doctor.
“And you think they’ll do something?”
“Who knows…,” the Doctor returned to his computer. “Wait.”
A brief moment of silence followed, and all eyes were on the Doctor. “Lizzie… what did you say?”
“Hmm?”
“You said something.”
“Oh yeah… don’t worry about it.”
“No, go on.”
Lizzie sighed. “The fog is at 356 metres, that’s exactly one metre above the height of this building - the tallest building in the country. I mean, think about it? The chances of the fog appearing exactly above the tallest building suggests it was put there deliberately. I mean, probably…”
“Lizzie, you’re a genius. Jo, we need to find the source of this fog…”
* * *
The Doctor and Jo had been busying themselves, for the past couple of hours, trying to locate the source of the fog. Scientists flitted about the room, running various simulations, in attempt to find a way of doing the same. But, so far, they’d got nothing. The satellites, which had been the first port of call, had picked up nothing. They were unable to scan through the clouds. Drones had been sent up into it, but they had frozen solid before gaining any discernable data. They’d only managed to gain one sample, which had been collected from the top of the tower.
Lizzie had withdrawn herself to a corner of the room, wanting to avoid getting in the way. It wasn’t like she really had any scientific knowledge anyway. She had, however, been half listening to what they were saying, while also gazing out of the window. At first, she had been studying the city, looking at all the finer details, but her mind had drifted to thoughts of home. She wondered what had become of Dunsworth. Were there still fusty old people? Was there still a divide between the town and the estate? She might not even recognise it. Everyone she knew would be gone. There’d be nothing left, just memories. Probably best not think about it, she decided, going back to listening in.
“Still nothing, ma’am,” one of the scientists told Jo.
“Have the radio telescopes picked up anything?”
“The readings are all over the place. Nothing precise.”
“Well, keep at it. Update me if things change.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Doctor, you got anything?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve got an inkling.”
Another one of his ‘inklings’, Lizzie thought, where he makes it up and hopes it works.
“What kind of inkling?” Jo pressed him.
“A good one, I should think,” he replied.
“Get on it then.”
Neither of them said anything more. Presumably the Doctor had started working on his idea – whatever it was. Lizzie hoped it worked, as they’d been cooped up in this office for ages. She wanted to get out there, experience London-of-the-future. As it was, she felt kind of...disconnected from it. Like she was merely surveying it, similar to a zoo. You could see everything, yes. But there was still glass separating you.
“It’s Lizzie, isn’t it?”
Lizzie turned to see Jo stood next to her. “Erm, yes – yes it is.”
“Nice to meet you, properly,” she smiled, before noting, “Not had chance, given the situation.”
“That’s fine, honestly.”
“Can’t imagine you wanted to be stuck in an office though?”
“Not really, no,” she replied, before feeling a bit rude for being so blunt. “I mean, it’s a nice office and all, but the future is out there.”
“I’ve not been out in the city, socially, for a while. Never enough time.”
“Must be hard, this job.”
“Oh, it is. But, you know, being right at the forefront, defending the world, makes it all worthwhile.”
“If you were back in my time, you might not like protecting it that much.”
“When exactly is your time, if I’m not intruding?”
“No, you’re not, erm, intruding. 2017.”
“Yeah, that was a rough period.”
“It – it seems weird that that’s history to you.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be. Time travel for you – it’s a tricky idea to grasp. I mean, just look at the Doctor, any version of him could show up at any time.”
“Honestly, he never seems to know where – or, rather, when – he’s gonna turn up next. It’s all a bit…well, random.”
“Do you...do you think he know’s what he’s doing?” Jo asked, tentatively.
“I’m not sure I’d, erm, go that far. I know he tries, and seems to succeed mostly, but I don’t think he knows, not for sure. Like, he seems to just hope for the best.”
“Sounds more like it. The stories only go so far, it’s hard to tell how much is just nostalgia.”
“Stories? Like, records on him?”
“Well, yes, we do have those. But these stories are more...personal.”
“So your family knew him?”
“You’re very sharp, you know,” Jo told her. “Yes, they did, quite well in fact.”
She paused, as if exploring the stories in her mind. Like she was listening to them all over again.
“My four times great grandfather, Alistair, was the first who met him. They worked together, back in the 70s or 80s, during the early days of UNIT. Always dashing about, always having adventures. Even when the Doctor left, they stayed in touch, occasionally went driving together. Oh, and he always had an extra brandy put aside, should he come knocking. It was a tradition he kept, right to the end.”
“Sounds like you wish you’d known him.”
“I often wonder, what would he make of all of this here.”
“If I were him, I’d be proud. I mean, look at you, leading UNIT, continuing the same fight.”
“Well, that means a lot.”
At that precise moment, the Doctor let out a cheer. “Eureka!”
Jo, with Lizzie behind, hurried over to him. He was stood back from the desk, admiring his creation. It looked like an old gameboy, just with various loose wires, a couple of flashing lights, extra buttons, and two aerials sticking out the top.
“It’s very...retro,” Lizzie noted. “But, erm, what is it?”
“It’s how we track the cloud.”
“How’s it going to do that?” inquired Jo, not as easily convinced as Lizzie.
“Well, simply put, the cloud contains a crystalline substance, and that in turn is generating a low level frequency. This device is tuned to that frequency.”
“Definitely not natural then,” Jo noted. “We best make a move on this, fast.”
She strolled over to the lift, and was followed by another woman, clearly an assistant of some kind, who she spoke with briefly. Presumably, they’d contact the Prime Minister, and update her on the whole situation. Lizzie looked at the Doctor, and noticed a confused look on his face. “What’s up?” She asked.
He turned to look at the windows with a frown. “It feels like I’m missing something.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Doctor, are you coming?” Jo called over to him.
“Yes. Lizzie ‒” He turned to his companion, except she wasn’t there. “...Lizzie?”
“Yup?” She was already waiting by the lift. The Doctor stared at her, and she smiled awkwardly. “What? I know how you operate by now.”
He chuckled and joined them. “It seems you do. You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure? I mean, after what happened last time…”
“It’ll be fine,” Lizzie assured him with a smile. “I mean, even if it wasn’t, I’d still go. Can’t let it hold me back, you know?”
“Yeah,” the Doctor murmured as the lift chimed open. “I do.”
* * *
“Take a left here,” the Doctor said, and the jeep swung round the corner.
It was rather swish, Lizzie had noted. The chairs were leather, the windscreen had heads up display, it had blacked-out windows, a rather fine trim, and was quite roomy too. Clearly, it wasn’t one of UNIT’s standard vehicles, and was, most likely, for Jo’s personal usage only.
“And a right.” The Doctor was sat beside her in the back of the car, fiddling with his strange contraption, which seemed to beep randomly. “Another left.”
They were racing through the city, going way over the speed limit – if there even was a speed limit anymore – but the driver seemed incredibly competent.
They’d not hit anything, or even mounted the curb, the car just moved gracefully through the streets. Lizzie wasn’t even being jostled about in her seat, which, at this speed, seemed impossible. Obviously car-y stuff had been improved a lot, not that she really got any of the technical jargon car experts spouted, or even paid attention to it.
Now they were going along a narrow side-street, only just wide enough for the jeep. Again, they collided with nothing, there wasn’t even a slight scrape. They shot out the other side of the street, took a sharp right, now moving along a main road. Seconds later, they came to a sudden stop. “Sorry, pedestrian zone. We can’t get past the bollards,” Jo stated.
“Are we close to the, erm, you know, place?” Lizzie asked, hesitantly.
“Yes, yes we are. I think,” the Doctor replied, bashing his gizmo again.
“How close?” Jo asked.
“It’ll just be a quick walk away.”
“Let’s get a shift on then,” exclaimed Jo. “The sooner we find the source, the better”
“Might give me chance to see some sights,” Lizzie muttered as she clambered out of the vehicle. The Doctor and Jo followed.
They were on a fairly ordinary London street, high rise buildings practically surrounding them. It was quiet too, as the city had, presumably, been closed off, and possibly evacuated to an extent. That made their venture that bit easier, they wouldn’t have to deal with any crowds – which would undoubtedly be even more prevalent in the 22nd Century.
“Lead the way then.” Jo gestured ahead to the Doctor.
“Right, err, this way.”
He set off at a brisk pace, holding his device in front of him – like a geiger counter. Lizzie and Jo followed, with eight soldiers behind them. They walked along the pedestrianised street. The shops on either side of the road were shut up, and nobody was in sight. It was strange, almost unearthly, walking through a city like this. Without the people, the traffic, the sounds, it was all just concrete and glass and metal.
The Doctor stopped suddenly, pressed a button, then darted off down a narrow alleyway. It was probably only wide enough for two people side-by-side – the soldiers had to go down one by one, as they wouldn’t fit otherwise. The buildings seemed to lean in over them, like old shakespearean streets did, making the alley feel even more tightly enclosed.
Once they reached the other side, they found the Doctor stood in the middle of another pedestrianised street. He looked puzzled, and was holding his sonic screwdriver to the device.
“Has it, you know...?” Lizzie began.
“...Stopped working?” the Doctor instinctively finished her sentence. “No, no, it’s still working.”
“Then, erm, what?”
“It says the source is...well, right here.”
“But...we’d see it, wouldn’t we?” Lizzie queried.
“Could it be shielded? Perception filter perhaps?” suggested Jo.
The Doctor scanned the area, before staring intently at the readings. “Doesn’t appear so.” He paused, gazing up at the sky. “Unless...oh, but it could be.”
“In the cloud, you mean?” Jo asked him, as he scanned the air.
While the Doctor waved his sonic screwdriver about, the buzzing noise varying in frequency as he did so, Lizzie glanced around the street. There was nothing out of the ordinary, or, at the very least, nothing she could see – like Jo said, it could be shielded. She doubted it though, especially as the Doctor was generally right about these things. Then again, he was currently waving a metal stick in the air, like he was performing an elaborate dance. She stifled a laugh, and hid her smile by looking down at her feet.
And that’s when she saw it – a manhole cover. The source wasn’t on the ground, or in the sky, it was under the city.
“Erm...Doctor?” Lizzie tried to get his attention. He wasn’t listening.
“It must be up there. There’s nowhere else it could be,” the Doctor reasoned.
“Doctor?” Lizzie tried again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. “Doctor?!”
“What’s wrong?” The Doctor spun round to face her.
“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just...well, you’re kind of missing the obvious.”
“I am?”
“It’s literally under your feet.”
He looked down at his feet, then back at her, a look of realisation on his face. “Oh! Lizzie, you’re getting a raise.”
“You don’t pay me,” she noted.
“Well, I ought to,” he replied, before turning to Jo. “We need to get down there.”
“I gathered.” She nodded towards the soldiers. Two of them were currently in the process of pulling up a manhole cover.
***
Lizzie climbed down the ladder, the last of the soldiers behind her. As she reached the bottom, the stench of the sewer hit her like a wave. It was vile. Possibly the vilest thing she’d ever smelt. She almost gagged it was so bad.
“Here, try this.” Jo passed Lizzie what looked like a nose plug. “Should block out the smell.”
She put it on her nose, and, within seconds, the smell was gone. “Much better, thanks.”
“Good.” She turned to the Doctor. “Now, Doctor, what have we got?”
“The signal is still below us. We’ll need to get down to the old tunnels.”
“Lucky I brought this then.” Jo brandished her handheld tablet. She tapped the screen a few times, before turning it to the Doctor. “Map of the tunnel network.”
“That was quick,” exclaimed Lizzie.
“Downloaded it before we came down here, just in case,” she replied. “Right, let’s go.”
The Doctor purposefully went off down the tunnel. The wrong way.
“It’s this way,” Jo called back to him. “Sergeant, you and your troops, watch our six.”
“Yes ma'am.”
The soldiers positioned themselves behind Jo, Lizzie and the Doctor. If anything came from behind, they’d be ready. With that, they set off along the tunnel. They did so in silence, listening out for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing save their footsteps and the rustle of fabric. Lizzie didn’t like how quiet it was, normally she wouldn’t mind it, but she was in a sewer, heading towards an unknown danger. The soldiers being there proved it would be dangerous.
“How far do we need to go?” She asked, trying to focus on something else.
“Not far actually, about ten minutes down this section. So fifteen minutes to the source I’d say,” Jo replied.
“Have either of you noticed…?” The Doctor began
“The temperature dropping? Yes, I have,” Jo replied.
“Is that, erm, normal?” Lizzie asked.
“I mean, it could be, yes.” responded the Doctor. “But the temperature outside is low already, and we’re approaching 0 celsius down here.”
“Best watch our step then. Might get, you know, a bit icy.”
“Hmm?” he murmured, before registering what she’d said. “Oh, yes, good point.”
They pressed on down the darkened tunnel. It was still silent. There wasn’t even a rogue rat. At least that would have taken Lizzie’s mind off things, if only briefly. She shot a glance at the Doctor, not that he noticed, he was too busy thinking. He had a very specific thinking face, and he did it often. His brow would furrow, he’d have his mouth slightly open, and his eyes seemed to glint. There was something about the situation that was puzzling him, it was clear, but quite what she didn’t know. Still, he’d figure it out, he always did.
“This is it,” Jo stated.
They’d come to an opening, which led into a large chamber, with brick-built arches – clearly part of the older tunnel network. One of the soldiers lowered down a rope ladder, while two others secured it to the tunnel. Another two went down first, to check the general area. Jo went down next, closely followed by the Doctor.
Lizzie was a little tentative, rope ladders always looked a little hard to use, though she’d only seen them in films, and she’d hate to land flat on her back as a result. That would be embarrassing. And ever so slightly painful. She decided it best not to let on, as that too would probably be embarrassing, instead she persevered. It was a bit wobbly, but she found it surprisingly easy.
“Right, not far to go now,” Jo said once Lizzie was down. “Stay alert, we don’t know what we might find down here.”
They moved along the old brick-built tunnel, which was ever so slightly smaller than the newer one, but it seemed a bit cleaner somehow. Perhaps because it wasn’t used that much anymore. There was also a lot more ice down there, the walls glistened in the torch light. Their breaths were visible too. It had to be sub-zero now. Lizzie was thankful that she was wearing her coat, it wouldn’t be too comfortable without one.
She stopped suddenly, as Jo put her arm out in front of her. Then Lizzie saw it, a hole in the side of the tunnel, it looked like it had been smashed through with a sledgehammer.
“What’s through there Jo?” the Doctor inquired, his voice low.
“I’m not entirely sure, there’s nothing on this map.”
“Well then, let’s take a peek, shall we?” he said, eager to have a look.
“You’re not going in first, this is still a UNIT operation, even if you are still on the books,” she told him, before turning to the soldiers. “Sergeant, would you mind?”
“Not at all ma’am.”
The Sergeant and one other soldier went in. They had their guns ready… but it was strangely silent in the wide, dome-shaped cave. It was like part of some kind of… sewer system, constructed of slate-grey bricks, that had now become damp and covered in moss and weeds. It was a big chamber, perhaps similar to the size of a school hall. What was notable was the circular device in the centre. It was reminiscent to the TARDIS’ console – or at least, the base of it. It was a circular platform, divided into various compartments of buttons and switches. A light shone through the centre, and it seemed to burst right through the bricks in the ceiling.
The two soldiers beckoned them further in, and Jo entered, followed by another few soldiers, followed by the Doctor and Lizzie, and then two soldiers bringing up the rear. When they were all in the room, they spent a few seconds in limbo, while the Doctor and Jo negotiated what should be done with the device.
But everything changed when two beams of light burst from the corners of the room, and the two soldiers at the front of the line disintegrated. Jo didn’t even have time to finish her “what the hell”, before great, scaly green shadows lumbered over, and grabbed the other soldiers, pulling them back against the walls. Another shadow, taller than the others, emerged at the front of the pack. The Doctor’s eyes darted around the room, and he could see them on all sides.
They were surrounded by Ice Warriors.
The soldiers were held back, leaving the three of them in the centre – the Doctor, Lizzie and Jo.
The Ice Warrior at the front was seemingly larger, and with a helmet which revealed a part of its face, and it strode right up to the Doctor, until it loomed over him.
“Hello,” the Doctor murmured, as he eyed up the beast in front of him. “You are?”
“Grand Marshall Sssekeldor.”
“Good morning, Grand Marshall,” the Doctor nodded, brushing quickly past him and over to the machine. “This is a fascinating device.”
All of them in the room looked awkwardly over at the Doctor as he looked over all over the controls, and gently reached into the light in the centre.
“The Ice Warriors,” the Doctor started as if he were beginning a lecture. “A Martian extremist group, terrorising the globe – a major problem as of recent, I see.”
“We will expand, we will control,” Skeledor turned to the Doctor. “Martian sssocietiess of thisss planet will be consssolidated.”
“And you’ll butcher innocents in the process?”
“We will cleansssse this planet of its ways.”
“But we have already won.”
The Ice Warriors stepped away from their respective soldiers, and they dropped to the floor, gasping for breath. They thumped their scaly armour with their scaly hands and suddenly, they all vanished in a flash of blue light. Grand Marshall Skeledor did the same.
It had been rather a whirlwind incident, leaving the Doctor, Lizzie, Jo, and the soldiers, rather confused. They all looked around, waiting for something to happen – that couldn’t be it, surely? But when the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver, and scanned the strange device, he was almost certain that it was.
“Jo,” the Doctor explained. “Get the soldiers out of here.”
Jo hesitated, but at that time, all she could do was trust the Doctor. “Move out,” she gave the order. The group did as they were told, leaving the Doctor, Lizzie, and Jo.
“What’s the machine?” Lizzie looked over at it.
“It’s what we expected,” the Doctor shrugged. “It’s causing the fog.”
When he looked around at the two of them, they both saw the look on his face. It was not just one of fear, of sheer, undiluted grimness – it was one of hopelessness.
Jo spoke plainly. “Is the fog a threat?”
“Where are we?” the Doctor ignored her.
“Beneath the Glitterstorm Shopping Arcade.”
The Doctor shook his head, as if she were lying to him, even though he knew she wasn’t. In an instant he was on his knees, yanking the metal panelling off the side of the device, and within seconds he was grabbing as much cabling as he could and yanking it out.
“Lizzie, take the other side, do the same. Just pull out as many wires as you can.”
Jo looked at both of them as if they had both lost it, and then she caught sight of the force with which the Doctor tore strips of electronics from the belly of the device.
“Doctor, I need to inform –”
“Inform who you like, it’s not going to change anything.”
Lizzie sighed and looked over the rim of the device. “Doctor, what’s happening?”
The Doctor paused, before standing up and pointing to the machine as if it were a test subject of some kind. “This is projecting a fog blanketing the entire country. The ice crystals in the fog create an energy framework that comes to a head right above this spot – it will, when exploded, cause devastating damage above our heads. And I’ve got… I don’t know, a minute, perhaps, until it goes.”
Oh my god. The true weight of what was going on dawned upon the two others in the room, who finally understood the severity of the situation. Jo responded by grabbing her phone, and seemingly calling whatever emergency numbers she could. Lizzie, meanwhile, looked sadly above her. So many people – and she realised she was crying. People who were loved, people whose lives had marked the world, with their loves, their passions, sent text messages, voicemails, letters. People they had adored, people who had adored them. And it was going to be taken away from them, and here she was, trapped and unable to do anything about it.
“Just… do something,” she ran over to the Doctor. “Please, do something really clever and… save them, please –”
“I cannot do something really clever, because I don’t have time to do something really clever, so I’m resorting to doing whatever I can.”
Jo called out to them. “They’re trying to evacuate but… it’s not going to be anywhere near enough the amount of time.”
The Doctor buried his face in his hands, as if he wanted nothing more than to hide from this. But he looked up, because he understood that that was the worst thing he could’ve done.
A red light pulsed through the machine, and the ground above them shook.
***
The detonation of the Cloud, the epicentre of which was over a busy shopping centre, led to the deaths of many, many people. Innocent people. Good people. People who left their homes that morning, and who will never return, who expected their day-to-day lives to continue as normal, and whose lives will now never continue. People who had loved ones, loved ones who have their entire lives gutted by this devastating loss. And it is not fair. It is the cruellest, and most malevolent part of the universe that has been so spiteful to life, that has taken life and has taken the worth from life.
Children, with bright and golden futures. Who would do such amazing things, and who now had those things seized from them. They would have gone on to become such great, amazing people, and now nothing like that would happen. And children who had been at home, and whose mums and dads would never be coming back for them, a soul-destroying earthquake that would shatter their lives forever. Brothers and sisters, grandparent, nieces, nephews, cousins, disgustingly ripped away. And all of it by idiots who thought that the right thing to do was killing. And who, above all, had their lives seized from them, by a government who not only had caused terrorism, but who had funded terrorism.
It it is not as if this is a recent event. No – in recent years, the number of Ice Warrior related attacks has hugely increased. So many innocent lives taken, and for what? For terror. For division. Thankfully, after so much rocking of society, the government are beginning to take action. They are starting to crack down on the causes of this terror, and perhaps one day we will see an end to these vile crimes.
Oops. Sorry. Nope.
Turns out, the government are doing nothing. Nope, nothing at all. Every time it happens, the Prime Minister stands outside her house in front of her little lectern, and she tells her people, it’s all going to be alright! We’re going to deal with terrorism, you’re all safe, don’t worry ‘bout it! Chill!
And nothing happens. Every single time, so many lives taken, and nothing.
As people, we buy the rhetoric. We change our profile pictures to the colour of a flag, we #prayfor*insert terrorised location here*. Why, of course solidarity is important – but solidarity means nothing if the people are not going to act upon it.
There are others as well, for it was not long after the Cloud detonated that the Nazis flocked to Twitter and began to broadcast their toxicity, declaring the need to do something, and that what must happen is a ban on the Martians from entering the planet, and leaving peacefully in society. That we should rigorously vet all of them and all of their lives.
Only a few days ago now, a human walked into a Martian settlement on Earth and massacred a group of innocent Martians. Terrorism. Disgusting, unadulterated terrorism.
The day after that the media came out in force, and what did they say about that dreaded action? They reported it, of course – but they were just a murderer. They weren’t a terrorist. In fact, terrorism wasn’t even mentioned. But what’s that doing? It’s just creating terror.
And so it is terrorism.
But does it get any attention? Oh, none at all. Although we take no action upon it, the Martians and the Ice Warriors are debated over and over, and yet a human commits any kind of atrocity, and it is ignored in an instant.
Well. I decided that this has gone on long enough. Because all of those loved people deserved so much better than this. All of those who have lost, deserve so much more. For far too long this horrendous cycle has turned and turned, and I have decided it must come to an end.
This is the day I met the Government.
The Doctor and Lizzie sat rather awkwardly upon two chairs, facing the desk of Richard ‘Dicky’ Hubble, the Secretary of State for Extra-terrestrial Affairs. Except, Richard Hubble was conspicuous in his absence. His PA had ushered the Doctor and Lizzie in, and told them to take a seat, and that Mr Hubble would be along in a bit.
Well, ‘a bit’ had certainly passed, and there was absolutely no sign of Mr Hubble. So, the Doctor and Lizzie had sat back, and taken in his office, which was quite remarkable. It was at the top of a great glass skyscraper, overlooking the entire city – a city so far below them that anyone who sat in this office regularly would not be able to see it properly. It was a spacious office too, the mark of a high-ranking government official.
Except, it was also notable in this a large amount of this space was occupied by clutter. Mr Hubble’s desk was completely covered in scattered documents marked with ‘confidential’, and on top of those, looking sullenly out at the Doctor, was a ceramic bulldog draped in the Union Jack. As well as this, two flimsy looking flags were blue-tacked onto each side of the exquisite glass desk. There were several other random islands of clutter across the floor – a few red briefcases tossed aside amongst oceans of memos and notes, a few books here and there, and notably, a magnetic dart board was attached to the back of the door, upon which was sellotaped a picture of the leader of the opposition.
Lizzie couldn’t help but feel slightly fearful for her life, if this was the state of the government. This cluttered… joke of an office.
Suddenly, the door with the magnetic dartboard attached crashed open, and Lizzie and the Doctor jumped around in their shock, as a bumbling oaf of a man practically fell into the room. He was lying face first on the floor, and looked up, a bemused look on his face. He clambered up and brushed himself off, before giving the Doctor a toothy grin, making a series of bumbling stuttering sounds.
“Bahaha!” he cried. “Doctor, splendid to be meeting you at last, my old man!” the Secretary of State for Interplanetary Affairs reached out and gave the Doctor a firm handshake, and completely ignoring Lizzie. Lizzie did not respond, deciding to instead glare at the moron opposite. She then took a deep breath, forgetting her usual desire to just sit quietly, and coughed to get his attention. It did, and then shook her hand as well.
“Nice to meet you too, Secretary-of-State,” the Doctor gave him a sceptical look, as Richard Hubble tumbled over his waste paper basket and into his swivel chair. He sat there for a few seconds, visually wading through the sea of confidential paperwork upon his desk before mumbling to himself and swishing it all off to the side and the floor. Lizzie watched with a melancholy look as half of the planet’s most important security documents sullenly floated their way down to the floor, and landed with a casual slovenliness.
Oh dear, Lizzie thought. First a cluttered joke of an office, now a cluttered joke of a man.
“Please, please, call me Dicky, bahaha!” Dicky drummed his hands upon his glass desk, nearly knocking over an old cup of coffee as he did so. Thankfully, the Doctor leaped in at the nick of time and stabled it.
“Right, Dicky… look, we’re here to discuss your relations with Mars…”
Dicky quickly put up his hands and interrupted him. “Look, before we get down to the ol’ business at hand, whadabout a game of wiff waff, oi? Court’s downstairs, gimme a few minutes, I’ll have my whites on –”
“No, don’t worry –”
“We’ve got a pool too!” Dicky continued nonchalantly. “Whack on your cozzies, quick dip, quick shmoozie in the ol’ jacuzzi! Bahaha!”
The Doctor gave Dicky an awkward smile and then gave Lizzie a pale-faced grimace. As both of them were sat across from this complete halfwit of a man, they both began to understand why everything had come to such a desperate situation. The government just did not care. As long as they had power and were winning elections, which Dicky clearly was because of his idiocy, what happened to the people was of no concern to them.
Dicky sat back in his chair, displaying his lack of interest in actually doing anything useful.
“You’ve got to listen to him,” Lizzie said. Oh, hello, that was exciting, her confronting a high-ranking government official. Dicky gave her a bemused look and she gulped, but decided to stand her ground. “This is very important and someone needs to do something about it.”
Dicky mumbled a series of patronisingly sounding mumbles, and shook his head, as if to say Lizzie had no idea what she was talking about and she should shut up and let the professionals deal with it by the correct procedure. Lizzie looked at the grave of the confidential documentation on the floor, having come to realise that the ‘professionals’ didn’t have a clue themselves.
“Well, you know,” Dicky shrugged as if he were discussing the loss of a game of rugger he’d enjoyed at Eton not so long ago. “Didn’t quite rumble this one in the jungle, as it were! But next time! Next time!”
He laughed to himself – after all, what a damned shame that those pesky Ice Warriors had got away with it again! Another blow to their great Britishness, alas. But what was to be done?
The Doctor decided that with this current attitude, they weren’t going to get anywhere. His face transformed, his looks became cold – this was a cycle continuing for years, and it was finally time to put a stop to it. He spoke simply and plainly, because anything more complicated would probably go over ol’ Dicky’s head.
“I don’t think so.”
Dicky looked up with a shocked expression, a ‘beg your pardon’ kind of expression, the sort one would only expect etched across the face of a silly little man who hadn’t been told ‘no’ very often. Only to be expected, really. Dicky came from an extremely rich family, had attended the poshest school in the entire country, went to Oxford, and was now Secretary of State for Intergalactic Affairs. He was used to people laughing along with him, perhaps accepting his request to join him in the sauna, being the national fool – everyone would agree with him because they loved him!
It seemed like the Doctor was not going to join the masses in their adoration.
“Can you not see that there’s a problem?”
Dicky quickly jumped in with an answer, as if it were perhaps one he had learned from a script and was just spinning in his own… unique way. “Now now now, just a minute, now, just a minute, we are taking action, you know, yes. Let’s be clear, here, yes – we’re taking all sorts of measures to stop Ice Warrior extremism! Yes, HM’s government are on the tippidy top of the terrorist-tackling game, we are!” he proudly declared. “Yes, we are,” he repeated, as if he was having to reassure himself.
“Oh yes?” the Doctor questioned, jumping in like a predator leaping onto its prey. “Like what?”
“Well,” Dicky began to scrabble through his mind, trying to think of that old measure ma’am had proposed at the most recent cabinet meeting. It’d just sort of slipped through the net, a few beers and perhaps it would resurrect itself. Suddenly, he remembered. “Ah yes! Well, of course we’re going to be seeing if we can up surveillance measures –”
Lizzie sighed aloud, expecting some authoritarian rhetoric as she had just heard. It was surprising, even back in her time, the amount of people who were willing to live in a fascist state. Message-reading and history-browsing, which would all eventually lead to gun-toting, frisk-searching police officers in the streets.
“You absolutely do not need more surveillance measures,” the Doctor interpreted Lizzie’s thoughts.
“And, and, and!” Dicky continued, like a five-year-old who was certain he had cottoned onto the right answer. “And we’re working with Martian communities to help them report extremis activity!”
The Doctor was already well aware that the Grand Marshall who had committed the atrocity had, in fact, been reported by his Martian community several times over. But they had been ignored. Every single time.
“Which they are already doing?”
“Ah yes, well,” Dicky began, but the Doctor cut him off again.
“It’s the same rhetoric,” the Doctor explained. “Time and time again, it’s the Martian’s fault, they need to be doing more, but they’re already doing everything, and you are doing nothing.”
“Well, well, well, look!” Dicky continued. “Whadabout you explain what you would do?”
Good save, Dicky observed for himself. He could get the Doctor’s opinions, placate him, quick spot of badminton with the health sec before being off back home for the shooting party tomorrow.
“Firstly,” the Doctor began. “Fairly good place to start would be to stop funding various governments on Mars – governments that fund and fuel the extremist Ice Warrior ideology. Earth needs to stop funding it – it’s as simple as that.”
Dicky raised a finger, as if about to make some great speech about his objection to the Doctor’s cause. “Sorry old bean – can’t be helped! They bring us in a shed load of cashingtons per annum! Score or what?!”
A horrified look spread across the Doctor and Lizzie’s faces. “You know… I don’t think this is an act,” the Doctor had to go over Dicky’s words in his head several times to try and grasp the true extent of their stupidity. It had often been of his belief that politicians like Dicky were just very scheming, very clever, always playing the fool so everyone was putty in their hands. But now, sat opposite the great buffoon of the government, it seemed as if this was Dicky in his truest form. A complete halfwit.
“But,” the Doctor began to protest. “You – you’re funding terrorism?”
“Well, not precisely true –”
“Also,” the Doctor continued, deciding that now he was on a roll he might as well continue, and put an end to this dreadful policy for good. Lizzie decided she would quite like to unleash him upon her own government. “While we’re at it, have you ever heard of diplomatic intervention into foreign conflicts? Has it not actually occurred to you that intervening with your military is just going to make matters worse?”
“Well, bahaha, again, I don’t think it’s really fair to blame us for this, Doctor –”
She went up the stairs, passing under the aquarium – which housed lots of exotic fish – and found the Doctor sat in his armchair beside the console. He was too busy looking at the screen to notice her.
“So,” she began, pausing for dramatic effect. “Where are we this time?”
“Ah, Lizzie, there you are,” he said, getting up. He glanced back at the screen before answering. “Earth, 22nd Century.”
“Near-future then. That’s cool.”
“Yes, it is a cold day. How did you know?”
“No, I didn’t...never mind,” she waved away his question, as he’d busied himself checking various different instruments. “What’s it, erm, like out there? How have things, you know, changed?”
The Doctor paused what he was doing, and gazed at her. Except, he wasn’t exactly looking at her, more through her. As if he was somehow gazing into time itself. It was strange, he seemed both happy and sad, wistful too. The weight of time and space around him. A burden he seemed to carry with him everywhere, always in silence. Seconds later, he was back to normal.
“Well,” he began, the word echoing around the large console room. “In some ways a lot has changed, certainly in a global sense, and there’s the space travel, even attempts at colonisation, but in many ways it’s the same. There are still skyscrapers, and cars, houses, people and so much beauty. By this point, humanity has overcome a lot, and achieved so much. It’s fascinating really.”
“So we can go and explore?” Lizzie gestured toward the doors.
“Well, seeing as we’re here,” he flicked a switch, and the interior doors swung open.
Lizzie went first. Opening the exterior door, she found herself in a bustling marketplace. Thereseemed to be hundreds of people, each one moving between the stalls, looking at what was on offer, buying knickknacks and trinkets. The stalls were incredibly diverse, selling a whole range of things. And the smell was incredible, a mixture of fragrances and spices.
“This is London’s Central market, you’ll find pretty much everything here. And, they do amazing coffees, or at least they did, funny what 100 years can do.”
“Coffee then sightseeing?”
“Sounds like a plan," Lizzie decided, that on such an adventure she was going to dare move away from her traditional ground of various teas.
The Doctor led her along the main thoroughfare, in amongst the crowds. It seemed strange to be walking in a crowd full of people who, to her, hadn’t even been born yet – especially when this wasn’t that far into the future. But, it felt reassuring to her to see everyone going about their lives, busying themselves with various things, just as they would in her time. The Doctor was right then, things weren’t so different here.
The marketplace opened out into a large, open space. Like a town square. There were benches, and large fern-like plants. It was a nice area, too – one which would be perfect for events. Lizzie glanced down at the floor, and noticed that there were in-built lights which, presumably, lit up in a range of colours. Pink for Valentines, green for St Patrick’s, and rainbow for Pride. It’d be a proper little light show.
Without warning, several soldiers appeared. They were all dressed in black,, the thick material was expertly woven and waved around the body snugly, as if they were specially fitted for each individual person. Gun-metal grey pressure plates were strapped onto the side of each shoulder and kneecaps, like the protection typically associated with football. They were each carrying a machine gun.
“Stay where you are,” one commanded, presumably the group's leader – most likely a corporal or a sargeant. Lizzie wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but, naturally, she put her hands up. Her mind raced through questions. Who were these soldiers? What did they want with them? Were they going to kill her and the Doctor?
“Ah, you’re UNIT,” the Doctor observed. “Do you mind telling me why you have us surrounded – with guns?”
“What’s UNIT?” Lizzie whispered.
“Unified Intelligence Taskforce,” he whispered back, as if it explained everything.
“That’s...that’s not really explained anything.”
“Oh, right, yes. Sorry. They protect the Earth from alien threats. I used to work for them, actually.”
“Doctor, that you?” A woman appeared, cutting through the soldiers. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, with frizzy-yet-neat hair, and was grasping a small handheld device by her side. “Got yourself a new regeneration, I take it?”
“You’re clearly the one in charge,” noted the Doctor, edging towards her. “And yes, I am the Doctor. But not quite a new regeneration. Well, I suppose it depends on your perspective.”
“Ah, an older regeneration,” she replied, glancing at her handheld. “Surprising this doesn’t happen more often.”
“Who are you?”
“Jo Stewart. Head of UNIT UK.”
“Well, Jo Stewart, I’m guessing there’s some kind of situation, given this lot?”
“Yes, there is,” she admitted. “Plus, they do love a run out.”
Lizzie, who had been stood around awkwardly, quietly cleared her throat. “What, erm, kind of situation?”
“It’s probably better to show you. We’ll head back to HQ.” She gestured to the lead-soldier, who stood their troops down, and marched them out of the square.
“Tower of London?” the Doctor asked.
“Oh, no, we’ve not used that for years,” replied Jo, walking off in the same direction as the soldiers.
Lizzie shared a nervous glance with the Doctor. What was it they were being thrust into? And who exactly was Jo Stewart? She didn’t know, and she did not like that.
“We’ll be fine,” he told her reassuringly. “Come on, best not keep her waiting.”
* * *
“Yep… we’re in the tallest building in the city. Exactly 350 metres above sea level. Higher than the Shard,” Jo pushed open a pair of double doors, revealing an almighty office.
UNIT HQ in this time was a remarkably different affair to how the Doctor was used to finding it. Jo led them into an open plan office, all glass and steel, with people in a menagerie of suits and white coats operating computers, wearing headsets and typing vigorously. People were passing in and out of the room, and there was a constant stream of activity. On the wall, there was a great holographic screen, with a map of London in net form, the buildings and streets all taking the form of tiny neon blue squares.
Lizzie walked to the window, looking out over the city below her. Because it was all below her, they were so high up, with the thick crystalline cloud only metres above them. Below her, everything was augmented, with even the glorious brickwork architecture modified with alloys and compounds to become ‘super’, which Lizzie was sure was just code for ‘really good at making more money’. That’s all the inner city was - the place where the money was made. Beyond the glass surrounding her, there would be suburbs and slums, where people crawled along in their daily lives, either just scraping above the poverty line or sinking far below it. Everything was controlled for the purposes of money making, no matter what the consequence.
Lizzie turned to see the Doctor beside her. “The city is so beautiful,” he said, looking out.
“Yeah,” she murmured. And it was, albeit tainted at the same time.
Jo joined them, pointing upwards. “That’s the situation.”
The Doctor looked at her, and then out again. “You mean…”
“The cloud. Yep. One night, it wasn’t there. Next morning, it was.”
“It just appeared overnight?” the Doctor questioned, walking over to a scientist and peering over their shoulder at the readings.
“It’s a dense fog, basically. We’ve isolated gases and found oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, argon - it’s your everyday fog, except it’s lying across half the country constantly at an exact height of 356 metres above sea level,” Jo pointed at various graphs and diagrams and maps on the wall screen, although the Doctor didn’t seem hugely interested. “Temperatures all over the country have dropped by varying amounts, so that the whole of the UK is being kept at exactly 3.25 degrees celsius. No fluctuations in that whatsoever.”
“Excuse me, can I use your computer?” the Doctor asked one of the scientists. He turned to Jo, who nodded, and the scientist moved. “3.25 degrees is the optimum temperature for fog,” the Doctor tapped away. “How is this all so… constant.” He took the remote control by the side of the computer and pointed it at Jo’s screen.
“Apologies,” he muttered. Jo scowled at him as her graph and diagrams disappeared.
“We gave 100 people 100 seconds to answer the facts upon the board,” declared the Osmanbot. “The facts being, of course, about the Cloud.”
“What are you doing?” Jo was aware that the Doctor had a reputation of unconventional methods, although she couldn’t see how watching Pointless was going to help them. Lizzie prepared herself for the usual excuse for browsing the television of the respective planets they visited - ‘I’m checking media channels’.
“I’m checking media channels…”
The Doctor pressed the remote again. Lizzie made a mental note to see if they had space Pointless on iPlayer later.
“It’s clear! This Cloud is just another act of terrorism. Or, at least, that is how it will be treated by those at the top! They’ll brush it under the carpet, and tell you that the war upon intergalactic terror is going well. Let me tell you this, citizens of the Empire. It is not!”
The Doctor changed the channel again.
“Trust Cullengate to have something to say,” Jo murmured, although the Doctor ignored her.
“Hello and welcome to DIY SOS. Today’s build comes from a family who have had the upper portions of their house obliterated by the Cloud. Yep, the thick condensation has given them an extreme case of damp, and after stripping the wallpaper, they discovered that the entire back-end of their suburban property just down the road from Chester’s largest solar mill was falling apart from the sheer wetness!”
“Humanity is so beautiful,” the Doctor smiled. “No matter what adversity you face, you bind together and you muddle through. Glorious.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Jo looked sceptical.
“Alien or not, who knows. But regardless whether it’s just a miracle of nature, you’re all in trouble. NHS winter crisis? Except all year round. Farmers? Out of business. I don’t even know if your infrastructure would cope with it.”
“Well, the cloud layer obviously isn’t natural,” Lizzie watched the way the thick fog covered the Big Ben, the London Eye, and the whole city.
“I’ll inform the Prime Minister,” Jo told the Doctor.
“And you think they’ll do something?”
“Who knows…,” the Doctor returned to his computer. “Wait.”
A brief moment of silence followed, and all eyes were on the Doctor. “Lizzie… what did you say?”
“Hmm?”
“You said something.”
“Oh yeah… don’t worry about it.”
“No, go on.”
Lizzie sighed. “The fog is at 356 metres, that’s exactly one metre above the height of this building - the tallest building in the country. I mean, think about it? The chances of the fog appearing exactly above the tallest building suggests it was put there deliberately. I mean, probably…”
“Lizzie, you’re a genius. Jo, we need to find the source of this fog…”
* * *
The Doctor and Jo had been busying themselves, for the past couple of hours, trying to locate the source of the fog. Scientists flitted about the room, running various simulations, in attempt to find a way of doing the same. But, so far, they’d got nothing. The satellites, which had been the first port of call, had picked up nothing. They were unable to scan through the clouds. Drones had been sent up into it, but they had frozen solid before gaining any discernable data. They’d only managed to gain one sample, which had been collected from the top of the tower.
Lizzie had withdrawn herself to a corner of the room, wanting to avoid getting in the way. It wasn’t like she really had any scientific knowledge anyway. She had, however, been half listening to what they were saying, while also gazing out of the window. At first, she had been studying the city, looking at all the finer details, but her mind had drifted to thoughts of home. She wondered what had become of Dunsworth. Were there still fusty old people? Was there still a divide between the town and the estate? She might not even recognise it. Everyone she knew would be gone. There’d be nothing left, just memories. Probably best not think about it, she decided, going back to listening in.
“Still nothing, ma’am,” one of the scientists told Jo.
“Have the radio telescopes picked up anything?”
“The readings are all over the place. Nothing precise.”
“Well, keep at it. Update me if things change.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Doctor, you got anything?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve got an inkling.”
Another one of his ‘inklings’, Lizzie thought, where he makes it up and hopes it works.
“What kind of inkling?” Jo pressed him.
“A good one, I should think,” he replied.
“Get on it then.”
Neither of them said anything more. Presumably the Doctor had started working on his idea – whatever it was. Lizzie hoped it worked, as they’d been cooped up in this office for ages. She wanted to get out there, experience London-of-the-future. As it was, she felt kind of...disconnected from it. Like she was merely surveying it, similar to a zoo. You could see everything, yes. But there was still glass separating you.
“It’s Lizzie, isn’t it?”
Lizzie turned to see Jo stood next to her. “Erm, yes – yes it is.”
“Nice to meet you, properly,” she smiled, before noting, “Not had chance, given the situation.”
“That’s fine, honestly.”
“Can’t imagine you wanted to be stuck in an office though?”
“Not really, no,” she replied, before feeling a bit rude for being so blunt. “I mean, it’s a nice office and all, but the future is out there.”
“I’ve not been out in the city, socially, for a while. Never enough time.”
“Must be hard, this job.”
“Oh, it is. But, you know, being right at the forefront, defending the world, makes it all worthwhile.”
“If you were back in my time, you might not like protecting it that much.”
“When exactly is your time, if I’m not intruding?”
“No, you’re not, erm, intruding. 2017.”
“Yeah, that was a rough period.”
“It – it seems weird that that’s history to you.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be. Time travel for you – it’s a tricky idea to grasp. I mean, just look at the Doctor, any version of him could show up at any time.”
“Honestly, he never seems to know where – or, rather, when – he’s gonna turn up next. It’s all a bit…well, random.”
“Do you...do you think he know’s what he’s doing?” Jo asked, tentatively.
“I’m not sure I’d, erm, go that far. I know he tries, and seems to succeed mostly, but I don’t think he knows, not for sure. Like, he seems to just hope for the best.”
“Sounds more like it. The stories only go so far, it’s hard to tell how much is just nostalgia.”
“Stories? Like, records on him?”
“Well, yes, we do have those. But these stories are more...personal.”
“So your family knew him?”
“You’re very sharp, you know,” Jo told her. “Yes, they did, quite well in fact.”
She paused, as if exploring the stories in her mind. Like she was listening to them all over again.
“My four times great grandfather, Alistair, was the first who met him. They worked together, back in the 70s or 80s, during the early days of UNIT. Always dashing about, always having adventures. Even when the Doctor left, they stayed in touch, occasionally went driving together. Oh, and he always had an extra brandy put aside, should he come knocking. It was a tradition he kept, right to the end.”
“Sounds like you wish you’d known him.”
“I often wonder, what would he make of all of this here.”
“If I were him, I’d be proud. I mean, look at you, leading UNIT, continuing the same fight.”
“Well, that means a lot.”
At that precise moment, the Doctor let out a cheer. “Eureka!”
Jo, with Lizzie behind, hurried over to him. He was stood back from the desk, admiring his creation. It looked like an old gameboy, just with various loose wires, a couple of flashing lights, extra buttons, and two aerials sticking out the top.
“It’s very...retro,” Lizzie noted. “But, erm, what is it?”
“It’s how we track the cloud.”
“How’s it going to do that?” inquired Jo, not as easily convinced as Lizzie.
“Well, simply put, the cloud contains a crystalline substance, and that in turn is generating a low level frequency. This device is tuned to that frequency.”
“Definitely not natural then,” Jo noted. “We best make a move on this, fast.”
She strolled over to the lift, and was followed by another woman, clearly an assistant of some kind, who she spoke with briefly. Presumably, they’d contact the Prime Minister, and update her on the whole situation. Lizzie looked at the Doctor, and noticed a confused look on his face. “What’s up?” She asked.
He turned to look at the windows with a frown. “It feels like I’m missing something.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Doctor, are you coming?” Jo called over to him.
“Yes. Lizzie ‒” He turned to his companion, except she wasn’t there. “...Lizzie?”
“Yup?” She was already waiting by the lift. The Doctor stared at her, and she smiled awkwardly. “What? I know how you operate by now.”
He chuckled and joined them. “It seems you do. You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure? I mean, after what happened last time…”
“It’ll be fine,” Lizzie assured him with a smile. “I mean, even if it wasn’t, I’d still go. Can’t let it hold me back, you know?”
“Yeah,” the Doctor murmured as the lift chimed open. “I do.”
* * *
“Take a left here,” the Doctor said, and the jeep swung round the corner.
It was rather swish, Lizzie had noted. The chairs were leather, the windscreen had heads up display, it had blacked-out windows, a rather fine trim, and was quite roomy too. Clearly, it wasn’t one of UNIT’s standard vehicles, and was, most likely, for Jo’s personal usage only.
“And a right.” The Doctor was sat beside her in the back of the car, fiddling with his strange contraption, which seemed to beep randomly. “Another left.”
They were racing through the city, going way over the speed limit – if there even was a speed limit anymore – but the driver seemed incredibly competent.
They’d not hit anything, or even mounted the curb, the car just moved gracefully through the streets. Lizzie wasn’t even being jostled about in her seat, which, at this speed, seemed impossible. Obviously car-y stuff had been improved a lot, not that she really got any of the technical jargon car experts spouted, or even paid attention to it.
Now they were going along a narrow side-street, only just wide enough for the jeep. Again, they collided with nothing, there wasn’t even a slight scrape. They shot out the other side of the street, took a sharp right, now moving along a main road. Seconds later, they came to a sudden stop. “Sorry, pedestrian zone. We can’t get past the bollards,” Jo stated.
“Are we close to the, erm, you know, place?” Lizzie asked, hesitantly.
“Yes, yes we are. I think,” the Doctor replied, bashing his gizmo again.
“How close?” Jo asked.
“It’ll just be a quick walk away.”
“Let’s get a shift on then,” exclaimed Jo. “The sooner we find the source, the better”
“Might give me chance to see some sights,” Lizzie muttered as she clambered out of the vehicle. The Doctor and Jo followed.
They were on a fairly ordinary London street, high rise buildings practically surrounding them. It was quiet too, as the city had, presumably, been closed off, and possibly evacuated to an extent. That made their venture that bit easier, they wouldn’t have to deal with any crowds – which would undoubtedly be even more prevalent in the 22nd Century.
“Lead the way then.” Jo gestured ahead to the Doctor.
“Right, err, this way.”
He set off at a brisk pace, holding his device in front of him – like a geiger counter. Lizzie and Jo followed, with eight soldiers behind them. They walked along the pedestrianised street. The shops on either side of the road were shut up, and nobody was in sight. It was strange, almost unearthly, walking through a city like this. Without the people, the traffic, the sounds, it was all just concrete and glass and metal.
The Doctor stopped suddenly, pressed a button, then darted off down a narrow alleyway. It was probably only wide enough for two people side-by-side – the soldiers had to go down one by one, as they wouldn’t fit otherwise. The buildings seemed to lean in over them, like old shakespearean streets did, making the alley feel even more tightly enclosed.
Once they reached the other side, they found the Doctor stood in the middle of another pedestrianised street. He looked puzzled, and was holding his sonic screwdriver to the device.
“Has it, you know...?” Lizzie began.
“...Stopped working?” the Doctor instinctively finished her sentence. “No, no, it’s still working.”
“Then, erm, what?”
“It says the source is...well, right here.”
“But...we’d see it, wouldn’t we?” Lizzie queried.
“Could it be shielded? Perception filter perhaps?” suggested Jo.
The Doctor scanned the area, before staring intently at the readings. “Doesn’t appear so.” He paused, gazing up at the sky. “Unless...oh, but it could be.”
“In the cloud, you mean?” Jo asked him, as he scanned the air.
While the Doctor waved his sonic screwdriver about, the buzzing noise varying in frequency as he did so, Lizzie glanced around the street. There was nothing out of the ordinary, or, at the very least, nothing she could see – like Jo said, it could be shielded. She doubted it though, especially as the Doctor was generally right about these things. Then again, he was currently waving a metal stick in the air, like he was performing an elaborate dance. She stifled a laugh, and hid her smile by looking down at her feet.
And that’s when she saw it – a manhole cover. The source wasn’t on the ground, or in the sky, it was under the city.
“Erm...Doctor?” Lizzie tried to get his attention. He wasn’t listening.
“It must be up there. There’s nowhere else it could be,” the Doctor reasoned.
“Doctor?” Lizzie tried again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. “Doctor?!”
“What’s wrong?” The Doctor spun round to face her.
“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just...well, you’re kind of missing the obvious.”
“I am?”
“It’s literally under your feet.”
He looked down at his feet, then back at her, a look of realisation on his face. “Oh! Lizzie, you’re getting a raise.”
“You don’t pay me,” she noted.
“Well, I ought to,” he replied, before turning to Jo. “We need to get down there.”
“I gathered.” She nodded towards the soldiers. Two of them were currently in the process of pulling up a manhole cover.
***
Lizzie climbed down the ladder, the last of the soldiers behind her. As she reached the bottom, the stench of the sewer hit her like a wave. It was vile. Possibly the vilest thing she’d ever smelt. She almost gagged it was so bad.
“Here, try this.” Jo passed Lizzie what looked like a nose plug. “Should block out the smell.”
She put it on her nose, and, within seconds, the smell was gone. “Much better, thanks.”
“Good.” She turned to the Doctor. “Now, Doctor, what have we got?”
“The signal is still below us. We’ll need to get down to the old tunnels.”
“Lucky I brought this then.” Jo brandished her handheld tablet. She tapped the screen a few times, before turning it to the Doctor. “Map of the tunnel network.”
“That was quick,” exclaimed Lizzie.
“Downloaded it before we came down here, just in case,” she replied. “Right, let’s go.”
The Doctor purposefully went off down the tunnel. The wrong way.
“It’s this way,” Jo called back to him. “Sergeant, you and your troops, watch our six.”
“Yes ma'am.”
The soldiers positioned themselves behind Jo, Lizzie and the Doctor. If anything came from behind, they’d be ready. With that, they set off along the tunnel. They did so in silence, listening out for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing save their footsteps and the rustle of fabric. Lizzie didn’t like how quiet it was, normally she wouldn’t mind it, but she was in a sewer, heading towards an unknown danger. The soldiers being there proved it would be dangerous.
“How far do we need to go?” She asked, trying to focus on something else.
“Not far actually, about ten minutes down this section. So fifteen minutes to the source I’d say,” Jo replied.
“Have either of you noticed…?” The Doctor began
“The temperature dropping? Yes, I have,” Jo replied.
“Is that, erm, normal?” Lizzie asked.
“I mean, it could be, yes.” responded the Doctor. “But the temperature outside is low already, and we’re approaching 0 celsius down here.”
“Best watch our step then. Might get, you know, a bit icy.”
“Hmm?” he murmured, before registering what she’d said. “Oh, yes, good point.”
They pressed on down the darkened tunnel. It was still silent. There wasn’t even a rogue rat. At least that would have taken Lizzie’s mind off things, if only briefly. She shot a glance at the Doctor, not that he noticed, he was too busy thinking. He had a very specific thinking face, and he did it often. His brow would furrow, he’d have his mouth slightly open, and his eyes seemed to glint. There was something about the situation that was puzzling him, it was clear, but quite what she didn’t know. Still, he’d figure it out, he always did.
“This is it,” Jo stated.
They’d come to an opening, which led into a large chamber, with brick-built arches – clearly part of the older tunnel network. One of the soldiers lowered down a rope ladder, while two others secured it to the tunnel. Another two went down first, to check the general area. Jo went down next, closely followed by the Doctor.
Lizzie was a little tentative, rope ladders always looked a little hard to use, though she’d only seen them in films, and she’d hate to land flat on her back as a result. That would be embarrassing. And ever so slightly painful. She decided it best not to let on, as that too would probably be embarrassing, instead she persevered. It was a bit wobbly, but she found it surprisingly easy.
“Right, not far to go now,” Jo said once Lizzie was down. “Stay alert, we don’t know what we might find down here.”
They moved along the old brick-built tunnel, which was ever so slightly smaller than the newer one, but it seemed a bit cleaner somehow. Perhaps because it wasn’t used that much anymore. There was also a lot more ice down there, the walls glistened in the torch light. Their breaths were visible too. It had to be sub-zero now. Lizzie was thankful that she was wearing her coat, it wouldn’t be too comfortable without one.
She stopped suddenly, as Jo put her arm out in front of her. Then Lizzie saw it, a hole in the side of the tunnel, it looked like it had been smashed through with a sledgehammer.
“What’s through there Jo?” the Doctor inquired, his voice low.
“I’m not entirely sure, there’s nothing on this map.”
“Well then, let’s take a peek, shall we?” he said, eager to have a look.
“You’re not going in first, this is still a UNIT operation, even if you are still on the books,” she told him, before turning to the soldiers. “Sergeant, would you mind?”
“Not at all ma’am.”
The Sergeant and one other soldier went in. They had their guns ready… but it was strangely silent in the wide, dome-shaped cave. It was like part of some kind of… sewer system, constructed of slate-grey bricks, that had now become damp and covered in moss and weeds. It was a big chamber, perhaps similar to the size of a school hall. What was notable was the circular device in the centre. It was reminiscent to the TARDIS’ console – or at least, the base of it. It was a circular platform, divided into various compartments of buttons and switches. A light shone through the centre, and it seemed to burst right through the bricks in the ceiling.
The two soldiers beckoned them further in, and Jo entered, followed by another few soldiers, followed by the Doctor and Lizzie, and then two soldiers bringing up the rear. When they were all in the room, they spent a few seconds in limbo, while the Doctor and Jo negotiated what should be done with the device.
But everything changed when two beams of light burst from the corners of the room, and the two soldiers at the front of the line disintegrated. Jo didn’t even have time to finish her “what the hell”, before great, scaly green shadows lumbered over, and grabbed the other soldiers, pulling them back against the walls. Another shadow, taller than the others, emerged at the front of the pack. The Doctor’s eyes darted around the room, and he could see them on all sides.
They were surrounded by Ice Warriors.
The soldiers were held back, leaving the three of them in the centre – the Doctor, Lizzie and Jo.
The Ice Warrior at the front was seemingly larger, and with a helmet which revealed a part of its face, and it strode right up to the Doctor, until it loomed over him.
“Hello,” the Doctor murmured, as he eyed up the beast in front of him. “You are?”
“Grand Marshall Sssekeldor.”
“Good morning, Grand Marshall,” the Doctor nodded, brushing quickly past him and over to the machine. “This is a fascinating device.”
All of them in the room looked awkwardly over at the Doctor as he looked over all over the controls, and gently reached into the light in the centre.
“The Ice Warriors,” the Doctor started as if he were beginning a lecture. “A Martian extremist group, terrorising the globe – a major problem as of recent, I see.”
“We will expand, we will control,” Skeledor turned to the Doctor. “Martian sssocietiess of thisss planet will be consssolidated.”
“And you’ll butcher innocents in the process?”
“We will cleansssse this planet of its ways.”
“But we have already won.”
The Ice Warriors stepped away from their respective soldiers, and they dropped to the floor, gasping for breath. They thumped their scaly armour with their scaly hands and suddenly, they all vanished in a flash of blue light. Grand Marshall Skeledor did the same.
It had been rather a whirlwind incident, leaving the Doctor, Lizzie, Jo, and the soldiers, rather confused. They all looked around, waiting for something to happen – that couldn’t be it, surely? But when the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver, and scanned the strange device, he was almost certain that it was.
“Jo,” the Doctor explained. “Get the soldiers out of here.”
Jo hesitated, but at that time, all she could do was trust the Doctor. “Move out,” she gave the order. The group did as they were told, leaving the Doctor, Lizzie, and Jo.
“What’s the machine?” Lizzie looked over at it.
“It’s what we expected,” the Doctor shrugged. “It’s causing the fog.”
When he looked around at the two of them, they both saw the look on his face. It was not just one of fear, of sheer, undiluted grimness – it was one of hopelessness.
Jo spoke plainly. “Is the fog a threat?”
“Where are we?” the Doctor ignored her.
“Beneath the Glitterstorm Shopping Arcade.”
The Doctor shook his head, as if she were lying to him, even though he knew she wasn’t. In an instant he was on his knees, yanking the metal panelling off the side of the device, and within seconds he was grabbing as much cabling as he could and yanking it out.
“Lizzie, take the other side, do the same. Just pull out as many wires as you can.”
Jo looked at both of them as if they had both lost it, and then she caught sight of the force with which the Doctor tore strips of electronics from the belly of the device.
“Doctor, I need to inform –”
“Inform who you like, it’s not going to change anything.”
Lizzie sighed and looked over the rim of the device. “Doctor, what’s happening?”
The Doctor paused, before standing up and pointing to the machine as if it were a test subject of some kind. “This is projecting a fog blanketing the entire country. The ice crystals in the fog create an energy framework that comes to a head right above this spot – it will, when exploded, cause devastating damage above our heads. And I’ve got… I don’t know, a minute, perhaps, until it goes.”
Oh my god. The true weight of what was going on dawned upon the two others in the room, who finally understood the severity of the situation. Jo responded by grabbing her phone, and seemingly calling whatever emergency numbers she could. Lizzie, meanwhile, looked sadly above her. So many people – and she realised she was crying. People who were loved, people whose lives had marked the world, with their loves, their passions, sent text messages, voicemails, letters. People they had adored, people who had adored them. And it was going to be taken away from them, and here she was, trapped and unable to do anything about it.
“Just… do something,” she ran over to the Doctor. “Please, do something really clever and… save them, please –”
“I cannot do something really clever, because I don’t have time to do something really clever, so I’m resorting to doing whatever I can.”
Jo called out to them. “They’re trying to evacuate but… it’s not going to be anywhere near enough the amount of time.”
The Doctor buried his face in his hands, as if he wanted nothing more than to hide from this. But he looked up, because he understood that that was the worst thing he could’ve done.
A red light pulsed through the machine, and the ground above them shook.
***
The detonation of the Cloud, the epicentre of which was over a busy shopping centre, led to the deaths of many, many people. Innocent people. Good people. People who left their homes that morning, and who will never return, who expected their day-to-day lives to continue as normal, and whose lives will now never continue. People who had loved ones, loved ones who have their entire lives gutted by this devastating loss. And it is not fair. It is the cruellest, and most malevolent part of the universe that has been so spiteful to life, that has taken life and has taken the worth from life.
Children, with bright and golden futures. Who would do such amazing things, and who now had those things seized from them. They would have gone on to become such great, amazing people, and now nothing like that would happen. And children who had been at home, and whose mums and dads would never be coming back for them, a soul-destroying earthquake that would shatter their lives forever. Brothers and sisters, grandparent, nieces, nephews, cousins, disgustingly ripped away. And all of it by idiots who thought that the right thing to do was killing. And who, above all, had their lives seized from them, by a government who not only had caused terrorism, but who had funded terrorism.
It it is not as if this is a recent event. No – in recent years, the number of Ice Warrior related attacks has hugely increased. So many innocent lives taken, and for what? For terror. For division. Thankfully, after so much rocking of society, the government are beginning to take action. They are starting to crack down on the causes of this terror, and perhaps one day we will see an end to these vile crimes.
Oops. Sorry. Nope.
Turns out, the government are doing nothing. Nope, nothing at all. Every time it happens, the Prime Minister stands outside her house in front of her little lectern, and she tells her people, it’s all going to be alright! We’re going to deal with terrorism, you’re all safe, don’t worry ‘bout it! Chill!
And nothing happens. Every single time, so many lives taken, and nothing.
As people, we buy the rhetoric. We change our profile pictures to the colour of a flag, we #prayfor*insert terrorised location here*. Why, of course solidarity is important – but solidarity means nothing if the people are not going to act upon it.
There are others as well, for it was not long after the Cloud detonated that the Nazis flocked to Twitter and began to broadcast their toxicity, declaring the need to do something, and that what must happen is a ban on the Martians from entering the planet, and leaving peacefully in society. That we should rigorously vet all of them and all of their lives.
Only a few days ago now, a human walked into a Martian settlement on Earth and massacred a group of innocent Martians. Terrorism. Disgusting, unadulterated terrorism.
The day after that the media came out in force, and what did they say about that dreaded action? They reported it, of course – but they were just a murderer. They weren’t a terrorist. In fact, terrorism wasn’t even mentioned. But what’s that doing? It’s just creating terror.
And so it is terrorism.
But does it get any attention? Oh, none at all. Although we take no action upon it, the Martians and the Ice Warriors are debated over and over, and yet a human commits any kind of atrocity, and it is ignored in an instant.
Well. I decided that this has gone on long enough. Because all of those loved people deserved so much better than this. All of those who have lost, deserve so much more. For far too long this horrendous cycle has turned and turned, and I have decided it must come to an end.
This is the day I met the Government.
The Doctor and Lizzie sat rather awkwardly upon two chairs, facing the desk of Richard ‘Dicky’ Hubble, the Secretary of State for Extra-terrestrial Affairs. Except, Richard Hubble was conspicuous in his absence. His PA had ushered the Doctor and Lizzie in, and told them to take a seat, and that Mr Hubble would be along in a bit.
Well, ‘a bit’ had certainly passed, and there was absolutely no sign of Mr Hubble. So, the Doctor and Lizzie had sat back, and taken in his office, which was quite remarkable. It was at the top of a great glass skyscraper, overlooking the entire city – a city so far below them that anyone who sat in this office regularly would not be able to see it properly. It was a spacious office too, the mark of a high-ranking government official.
Except, it was also notable in this a large amount of this space was occupied by clutter. Mr Hubble’s desk was completely covered in scattered documents marked with ‘confidential’, and on top of those, looking sullenly out at the Doctor, was a ceramic bulldog draped in the Union Jack. As well as this, two flimsy looking flags were blue-tacked onto each side of the exquisite glass desk. There were several other random islands of clutter across the floor – a few red briefcases tossed aside amongst oceans of memos and notes, a few books here and there, and notably, a magnetic dart board was attached to the back of the door, upon which was sellotaped a picture of the leader of the opposition.
Lizzie couldn’t help but feel slightly fearful for her life, if this was the state of the government. This cluttered… joke of an office.
Suddenly, the door with the magnetic dartboard attached crashed open, and Lizzie and the Doctor jumped around in their shock, as a bumbling oaf of a man practically fell into the room. He was lying face first on the floor, and looked up, a bemused look on his face. He clambered up and brushed himself off, before giving the Doctor a toothy grin, making a series of bumbling stuttering sounds.
“Bahaha!” he cried. “Doctor, splendid to be meeting you at last, my old man!” the Secretary of State for Interplanetary Affairs reached out and gave the Doctor a firm handshake, and completely ignoring Lizzie. Lizzie did not respond, deciding to instead glare at the moron opposite. She then took a deep breath, forgetting her usual desire to just sit quietly, and coughed to get his attention. It did, and then shook her hand as well.
“Nice to meet you too, Secretary-of-State,” the Doctor gave him a sceptical look, as Richard Hubble tumbled over his waste paper basket and into his swivel chair. He sat there for a few seconds, visually wading through the sea of confidential paperwork upon his desk before mumbling to himself and swishing it all off to the side and the floor. Lizzie watched with a melancholy look as half of the planet’s most important security documents sullenly floated their way down to the floor, and landed with a casual slovenliness.
Oh dear, Lizzie thought. First a cluttered joke of an office, now a cluttered joke of a man.
“Please, please, call me Dicky, bahaha!” Dicky drummed his hands upon his glass desk, nearly knocking over an old cup of coffee as he did so. Thankfully, the Doctor leaped in at the nick of time and stabled it.
“Right, Dicky… look, we’re here to discuss your relations with Mars…”
Dicky quickly put up his hands and interrupted him. “Look, before we get down to the ol’ business at hand, whadabout a game of wiff waff, oi? Court’s downstairs, gimme a few minutes, I’ll have my whites on –”
“No, don’t worry –”
“We’ve got a pool too!” Dicky continued nonchalantly. “Whack on your cozzies, quick dip, quick shmoozie in the ol’ jacuzzi! Bahaha!”
The Doctor gave Dicky an awkward smile and then gave Lizzie a pale-faced grimace. As both of them were sat across from this complete halfwit of a man, they both began to understand why everything had come to such a desperate situation. The government just did not care. As long as they had power and were winning elections, which Dicky clearly was because of his idiocy, what happened to the people was of no concern to them.
Dicky sat back in his chair, displaying his lack of interest in actually doing anything useful.
“You’ve got to listen to him,” Lizzie said. Oh, hello, that was exciting, her confronting a high-ranking government official. Dicky gave her a bemused look and she gulped, but decided to stand her ground. “This is very important and someone needs to do something about it.”
Dicky mumbled a series of patronisingly sounding mumbles, and shook his head, as if to say Lizzie had no idea what she was talking about and she should shut up and let the professionals deal with it by the correct procedure. Lizzie looked at the grave of the confidential documentation on the floor, having come to realise that the ‘professionals’ didn’t have a clue themselves.
“Well, you know,” Dicky shrugged as if he were discussing the loss of a game of rugger he’d enjoyed at Eton not so long ago. “Didn’t quite rumble this one in the jungle, as it were! But next time! Next time!”
He laughed to himself – after all, what a damned shame that those pesky Ice Warriors had got away with it again! Another blow to their great Britishness, alas. But what was to be done?
The Doctor decided that with this current attitude, they weren’t going to get anywhere. His face transformed, his looks became cold – this was a cycle continuing for years, and it was finally time to put a stop to it. He spoke simply and plainly, because anything more complicated would probably go over ol’ Dicky’s head.
“I don’t think so.”
Dicky looked up with a shocked expression, a ‘beg your pardon’ kind of expression, the sort one would only expect etched across the face of a silly little man who hadn’t been told ‘no’ very often. Only to be expected, really. Dicky came from an extremely rich family, had attended the poshest school in the entire country, went to Oxford, and was now Secretary of State for Intergalactic Affairs. He was used to people laughing along with him, perhaps accepting his request to join him in the sauna, being the national fool – everyone would agree with him because they loved him!
It seemed like the Doctor was not going to join the masses in their adoration.
“Can you not see that there’s a problem?”
Dicky quickly jumped in with an answer, as if it were perhaps one he had learned from a script and was just spinning in his own… unique way. “Now now now, just a minute, now, just a minute, we are taking action, you know, yes. Let’s be clear, here, yes – we’re taking all sorts of measures to stop Ice Warrior extremism! Yes, HM’s government are on the tippidy top of the terrorist-tackling game, we are!” he proudly declared. “Yes, we are,” he repeated, as if he was having to reassure himself.
“Oh yes?” the Doctor questioned, jumping in like a predator leaping onto its prey. “Like what?”
“Well,” Dicky began to scrabble through his mind, trying to think of that old measure ma’am had proposed at the most recent cabinet meeting. It’d just sort of slipped through the net, a few beers and perhaps it would resurrect itself. Suddenly, he remembered. “Ah yes! Well, of course we’re going to be seeing if we can up surveillance measures –”
Lizzie sighed aloud, expecting some authoritarian rhetoric as she had just heard. It was surprising, even back in her time, the amount of people who were willing to live in a fascist state. Message-reading and history-browsing, which would all eventually lead to gun-toting, frisk-searching police officers in the streets.
“You absolutely do not need more surveillance measures,” the Doctor interpreted Lizzie’s thoughts.
“And, and, and!” Dicky continued, like a five-year-old who was certain he had cottoned onto the right answer. “And we’re working with Martian communities to help them report extremis activity!”
The Doctor was already well aware that the Grand Marshall who had committed the atrocity had, in fact, been reported by his Martian community several times over. But they had been ignored. Every single time.
“Which they are already doing?”
“Ah yes, well,” Dicky began, but the Doctor cut him off again.
“It’s the same rhetoric,” the Doctor explained. “Time and time again, it’s the Martian’s fault, they need to be doing more, but they’re already doing everything, and you are doing nothing.”
“Well, well, well, look!” Dicky continued. “Whadabout you explain what you would do?”
Good save, Dicky observed for himself. He could get the Doctor’s opinions, placate him, quick spot of badminton with the health sec before being off back home for the shooting party tomorrow.
“Firstly,” the Doctor began. “Fairly good place to start would be to stop funding various governments on Mars – governments that fund and fuel the extremist Ice Warrior ideology. Earth needs to stop funding it – it’s as simple as that.”
Dicky raised a finger, as if about to make some great speech about his objection to the Doctor’s cause. “Sorry old bean – can’t be helped! They bring us in a shed load of cashingtons per annum! Score or what?!”
A horrified look spread across the Doctor and Lizzie’s faces. “You know… I don’t think this is an act,” the Doctor had to go over Dicky’s words in his head several times to try and grasp the true extent of their stupidity. It had often been of his belief that politicians like Dicky were just very scheming, very clever, always playing the fool so everyone was putty in their hands. But now, sat opposite the great buffoon of the government, it seemed as if this was Dicky in his truest form. A complete halfwit.
“But,” the Doctor began to protest. “You – you’re funding terrorism?”
“Well, not precisely true –”
“Also,” the Doctor continued, deciding that now he was on a roll he might as well continue, and put an end to this dreadful policy for good. Lizzie decided she would quite like to unleash him upon her own government. “While we’re at it, have you ever heard of diplomatic intervention into foreign conflicts? Has it not actually occurred to you that intervening with your military is just going to make matters worse?”
“Well, bahaha, again, I don’t think it’s really fair to blame us for this, Doctor –”
“Oh but it is!” the Doctor roared, slamming his fist upon the table and making Dicky’s cold cup of coffee jump up again. Blaming the government was exactly what he was doing. Blaming the government, and their white western ways, with their shocking attitudes towards everyone who was a different colour to them, or with less money than them. “You are part of the cause of this entire problem, and because of that, it is only fair that you should receive some of the blame.
Dicky looked down at his papers like a five-year-old who had been caught eating the biscuits he was specifically told to stay away from. The sheer force of the Doctor’s anger had blown through the room like a gale, leaving the three of them sat, not in an awkward silence, but of an accepting silence, as Dicky was perhaps realising the magnitude of the situation. He still did not look as if he cared, however – he still looked as if he had somewhere better to be.
“The government need to grow up, quite frankly,” the Doctor continued. “And they need to start having this conversation – why is it happening? You are financing terrorism, stop being embarrassed, stop worrying that if you admit it’s your fault you’ll lose an election – because for god’s sake, PEOPLE ARE DYING SO YOU CAN STAY IN POWER. People, beautiful, happy people who loved the universe, and who appreciated the beauty of it. And they will never get to appreciate that beauty again. And their loved ones who have had their lives destroyed and obliterated. Loved ones, who will never sleep again, whose lives will be at a mercy to the endless torment you’ve caused them. Maybe they’ll see good days yet, but always they’ll have shadows hanging over them, darker shadows than anyone else, and those shadows are because of you! Tomorrow belongs to nobody, we can’t change that – but people deserve a better tomorrow than… this.
“And you know what makes this even more… skin-crawling?” the Doctor reached into his jacket and slammed a newspaper down on the table, before continuing, his voice spitting with vitriolic anger. “A human goes and massacres a group of Martians living in peace upon this planet, and look what little coverage it receives! And this rhetoric is just making things worse, actually. No mention of the word terrorism anywhere! Of course, he’s not green enough to be a terrorist.
“Your fascist media, Dicky, is radicalising the masses, and is hell bent on driving wedges of hate into society – they will tear seven bells out of Martian society, before only laying gently into humanity, when it is humanity committing the dreadful, despicable acts of terrorism. Not only are you causing terror, you are responding to it with terror as well.
“And what’s gonna happen if people don’t start doing anything about this? The Ice Warriors keep killing, and you keep causing the Ice Warriors, and you produce terrorism, until it grows and becomes a greater cancer in society? What kind of future is that?”
Another silence followed, as the Doctor sat back, running a hand through his hair in desperation. All he wanted to do, was for Dicky to be able to see. It wasn’t hard for him to lift his head out of the sand, and start doing what truly needed to be done.
“Doctor,” he spoke slowly this time, as it had been impossible to ignore the fury burning in the Doctor’s eyes. “I do understand –”
“No, Dicky,” the Doctor interrupted, the fire within him leaping back into life. “I don’t think you do. There’s a war going on above our heads, a much bigger war, a war that makes this look like a row in the back of a pub – not even that – not even a mild domestic, that war, makes this look like a brief exchange of choice words. And do you know why that is? Because I didn’t act. Years ago, I had the chance to kill Nazism forever, and I didn’t! And so many amazing people have died because of it, universes have burned, and are going to burn, because I did not act – and that’ll be a day that I regret for the rest of my life.”
Lizzie could hear the regret. She could hear it in the way he spoke, the way he commanded the three of them in the room with the sheer amount of remorse he pumped into his pleas of desperation he offered to the cushy government official opposite, who had no need to care. Except – Lizzie looked at him now, and wondered perhaps, if he did.
“And what’s going to happen if you continue to allow that to fester in your society? If you allow that cycle to continue, of the terrorists winning, and of fascism rising because of it, and fascist terrorism ruining society as it is at the moment?”
There was a pause, although the Doctor had no plans on letting anyone answer the question. So he continued. “You’ll end up where I’ve ended up, with the universe tearing itself apart. You might get to sit in your tower with your lovely little desk job playing God with people’s lives. But everyone else? I have lost people, I have lost such, close, friends, because of idiots like you,” he pointed to Mr Hubble, and Lizzie sat there, almost petrified at the force of the Doctor’s words. As he spoke, he channelled so much pain, and so much grief, and Lizzie could see the tears manifesting in his eyes, and gently rolling down his cheek, perhaps then evaporating against the heat of his words. She could see something in those eyes, something that could only belong to someone who had seen many dark days.
“And I have no choice but to force myself on, day in, and day out, coping with all the hell the universe throws at me. My wife heals the sick, she goes to some of the darkest depths of the universe to help, and every time I see her, I have to treasure her, because for all I know, I won’t ever see her again. She could be killed at any moment. You might be safe, but all of us, every other person in the world is forced onto a knife-edge, knowing that every single day could be our last. And what for? Why?
“But you know what? This isn’t about me. This isn’t about you – this is about people.
“It’s about the other 100%, everyone who has to endure the consequences of you, with sheer resilience and grit. The people who lost their loved ones in the Fog attack will never have happiness on a plate again in their lives – because grief isn’t curable, when it gets you it takes you forever. These people, they will have to fight constantly to salvage any happiness ever again. And they will, for they won’t stop fighting – they will do it in the names of the people they loved so much. But you robbed them. You are not just a murderer, you are a thief, because you stole their days. The days that will never come, for them and the people they loved and lost. If tomorrow belongs to nobody, it certainly doesn’t belong to you.
“People died. Their potential was sucked out of this world. And their joy, and their happiness, and their love, and it will bless us no more. And you ought to be horrified with yourself, for allowing that to occur. Because the world is a sadder place because of it.”
Nobody spoke after that, the Doctor’s words casting such a long shadow over the office. Lizzie, who probably wouldn’t have said much anyway, was in even more shock than usual, at this unleashing of a side to the Doctor that had, so far, been hidden away from her. She had noticed something in him, right from the very start – there had been a mutual understanding between the two of them, with the two of them perhaps understanding each other in a way nobody else did. Lizzie felt that finally, she had seen the Doctor lift the lid on that subject she had been understanding until this point. She was in shock at how deep it ran through him.
Dicky, meanwhile, was looking sheepish, as he had been for at least 10 minutes. He still looked down at his desk, but the eyes that were eying the filth accumulated on his cup of coffee were now perhaps more accepting. Or so Lizzie had thought, until eventually, Dicky spoke, and said: “I think you should both leave.”
It was of no surprise that this was his response. Although Dicky seemed like a hilarious chap, he was a mumbling moron, who was clearly going to go on as he was. Somebody who was going to kill millions. Who is killing millions. Who had killed millions.
The Doctor looked at him, as if to say, ‘this isn’t over’. Dicky gave him a similar glance. The Doctor stood up, and so did Lizzie, and Lizzie led the way to the door. But before they left, the Doctor offered one passing remark.
“These people were so beautiful. So good. Why would you destroy them?”
And with that, they left.
***
“I must admit,” Jo said, as they stood on the balcony of the UNIT offices, looking down at the city below them. They were in a typically liberal hypocritical position, Lizzie decided. They should’ve been down in the city, being active and helping the change that was needed to come about.
“I’ve dealt with Richard Hubble a number of times,” Jo continued. “And he’s one of the worst politicians I have ever met.”
She said this as if it were meant to make things any easier. It didn’t. After all, the Doctor and Lizzie been removed from the Intergalactic Affairs building, and Dicky remained, lording it over from his glass tower. It seemed as if Dicky was not going anywhere anytime soon – however, the rumour-mill was functioning at optimum capacity, and already word had started to spread of Dicky and a major confrontation. Nobody quite knew what, although Dicky had made a statement (on Twitter, along with a poll asking his followers to decide what he should have for dinner) trying to quash the rumours.
Perhaps their hypocrisy, as they looked down below them, highlighted instead the corruption of society – that it was only those who could stand at the top of skyscrapers who could make change happen. Lizzie shelved that pessimistic thought, however, because she herself believed that if people, no matter who they were, wanted to make something happen, then it was always possible.
Once upon a time, Lizzie would never have thought that. She always believed that her life was subject to those at the top. And to be fair – it still was. And for the foreseeable future, it always would be. But she had learned that she could fight against that system – she did not have to accept it.
It was still a terrifying thought, however. That humanity at its purest could not sway the hearts of the cruel gods who played with it. It was clearly a thought that preyed heavy on the Doctor’s mind, as he had barely said a word since they arrived back at UNIT HQ. In fact, he barely said anything since leaving Dicky’s office. Jo could see it, and other than a few brief words of consolation, she didn’t know what to say.
It was at that moment, that someone knocked on the balcony door. Jo nodded, and it opened.
“Mr Cooper here to see you?” Jo’s PA said.
“Send him through, Josh,” Jo acknowledged. Her PA nodded, and then he left. “Someone is here to see you, Doctor.”
Only a few seconds passed, before a little bearded gentleman hobbled out onto balcony. His face was lined and his eyes were sunken, and he was, perhaps, quite shabbily dressed, with a tweed jacket a little bit too big, and baggy trousers, along with a half-untucked shirt. But a red tie was emblazoned around his neck, a great red flag, and although this man was old, and although he perhaps seemed like he was spent, there was something about him.
For looks meant nothing.
There was an elfin presence in front of them, ready to leap into leadership, and take the country to dizzying heights. In fact, the appearance in front of them was not so much of a scarecrow, but instead, the appearance of a Prime Minister. He was the picture of all great socialist leaders, and this little man held himself like a true statesman – more so than any other political figure they had met so far. This was a man who was determined to right by the people, and not determined to stay in power no matter what the human cost.
“Doctor,” Jo had noted the Doctor’s bemused looks, and so she gestured to the bearded gentleman who had joined them on the balcony. “Mr Jackson Cooper – the Leader of the Opposition.”
“Doctor,” Jackson strode over to him, and took his hand, and shook it warmly. Jackson greeted him as an old friend. “I’ve heard about the fantastic work you did earlier today.”
Fantastic work, the Doctor thought. It wasn’t like he had achieved anything major. In fact, he had done nothing. He could not bring back the lost, he could not go to those people who had lost, and tell them that everything was going to be okay. Because he knew that it wouldn’t be. But he didn’t say that – all he said was “thank you, Mr Cooper.”
“It’ll take a while yet,” Jackson admitted. “But thankfully, it feels as if there’s hope, that the tide could turn our way. Now you’ve got the rumour-mill spinning, we’re going to table a motion. To stop funding Martian governments that fund terrorism, to create a new intergalactic affairs policy.”
Lizzie gave the Doctor an awkward nudge, and he smiled obediently. Although – it wasn’t obediently. He smiled because it seemed that things could change.
“We’ll take them down,” Jackson nodded firmly, a grim determination, but a great optimism, in his eyes, as he looked over at Dicky’s tower in the distance. “In the end, we will take them all down… and it’ll be for them,” he pointed below. “We deserve so much more than this.”
The Doctor turned to properly look at the mercurial gentleman beside him. “You remind me of someone,” he observed.
“A certain former Prime Minister?” Jackson laughed. “Yeah… I get that a lot.”
Lizzie’s heart skipped a beat a little then, but she regained herself. Yes… perhaps there was definitely hope yet.
OhmygodacertainformerprimeministerIwonderwhothatcouldbe – shush Elizabeth, she told herself. Although they had made a start, they still had vast amounts of work to do.
***
Dicky looked down at his papers like a five-year-old who had been caught eating the biscuits he was specifically told to stay away from. The sheer force of the Doctor’s anger had blown through the room like a gale, leaving the three of them sat, not in an awkward silence, but of an accepting silence, as Dicky was perhaps realising the magnitude of the situation. He still did not look as if he cared, however – he still looked as if he had somewhere better to be.
“The government need to grow up, quite frankly,” the Doctor continued. “And they need to start having this conversation – why is it happening? You are financing terrorism, stop being embarrassed, stop worrying that if you admit it’s your fault you’ll lose an election – because for god’s sake, PEOPLE ARE DYING SO YOU CAN STAY IN POWER. People, beautiful, happy people who loved the universe, and who appreciated the beauty of it. And they will never get to appreciate that beauty again. And their loved ones who have had their lives destroyed and obliterated. Loved ones, who will never sleep again, whose lives will be at a mercy to the endless torment you’ve caused them. Maybe they’ll see good days yet, but always they’ll have shadows hanging over them, darker shadows than anyone else, and those shadows are because of you! Tomorrow belongs to nobody, we can’t change that – but people deserve a better tomorrow than… this.
“And you know what makes this even more… skin-crawling?” the Doctor reached into his jacket and slammed a newspaper down on the table, before continuing, his voice spitting with vitriolic anger. “A human goes and massacres a group of Martians living in peace upon this planet, and look what little coverage it receives! And this rhetoric is just making things worse, actually. No mention of the word terrorism anywhere! Of course, he’s not green enough to be a terrorist.
“Your fascist media, Dicky, is radicalising the masses, and is hell bent on driving wedges of hate into society – they will tear seven bells out of Martian society, before only laying gently into humanity, when it is humanity committing the dreadful, despicable acts of terrorism. Not only are you causing terror, you are responding to it with terror as well.
“And what’s gonna happen if people don’t start doing anything about this? The Ice Warriors keep killing, and you keep causing the Ice Warriors, and you produce terrorism, until it grows and becomes a greater cancer in society? What kind of future is that?”
Another silence followed, as the Doctor sat back, running a hand through his hair in desperation. All he wanted to do, was for Dicky to be able to see. It wasn’t hard for him to lift his head out of the sand, and start doing what truly needed to be done.
“Doctor,” he spoke slowly this time, as it had been impossible to ignore the fury burning in the Doctor’s eyes. “I do understand –”
“No, Dicky,” the Doctor interrupted, the fire within him leaping back into life. “I don’t think you do. There’s a war going on above our heads, a much bigger war, a war that makes this look like a row in the back of a pub – not even that – not even a mild domestic, that war, makes this look like a brief exchange of choice words. And do you know why that is? Because I didn’t act. Years ago, I had the chance to kill Nazism forever, and I didn’t! And so many amazing people have died because of it, universes have burned, and are going to burn, because I did not act – and that’ll be a day that I regret for the rest of my life.”
Lizzie could hear the regret. She could hear it in the way he spoke, the way he commanded the three of them in the room with the sheer amount of remorse he pumped into his pleas of desperation he offered to the cushy government official opposite, who had no need to care. Except – Lizzie looked at him now, and wondered perhaps, if he did.
“And what’s going to happen if you continue to allow that to fester in your society? If you allow that cycle to continue, of the terrorists winning, and of fascism rising because of it, and fascist terrorism ruining society as it is at the moment?”
There was a pause, although the Doctor had no plans on letting anyone answer the question. So he continued. “You’ll end up where I’ve ended up, with the universe tearing itself apart. You might get to sit in your tower with your lovely little desk job playing God with people’s lives. But everyone else? I have lost people, I have lost such, close, friends, because of idiots like you,” he pointed to Mr Hubble, and Lizzie sat there, almost petrified at the force of the Doctor’s words. As he spoke, he channelled so much pain, and so much grief, and Lizzie could see the tears manifesting in his eyes, and gently rolling down his cheek, perhaps then evaporating against the heat of his words. She could see something in those eyes, something that could only belong to someone who had seen many dark days.
“And I have no choice but to force myself on, day in, and day out, coping with all the hell the universe throws at me. My wife heals the sick, she goes to some of the darkest depths of the universe to help, and every time I see her, I have to treasure her, because for all I know, I won’t ever see her again. She could be killed at any moment. You might be safe, but all of us, every other person in the world is forced onto a knife-edge, knowing that every single day could be our last. And what for? Why?
“But you know what? This isn’t about me. This isn’t about you – this is about people.
“It’s about the other 100%, everyone who has to endure the consequences of you, with sheer resilience and grit. The people who lost their loved ones in the Fog attack will never have happiness on a plate again in their lives – because grief isn’t curable, when it gets you it takes you forever. These people, they will have to fight constantly to salvage any happiness ever again. And they will, for they won’t stop fighting – they will do it in the names of the people they loved so much. But you robbed them. You are not just a murderer, you are a thief, because you stole their days. The days that will never come, for them and the people they loved and lost. If tomorrow belongs to nobody, it certainly doesn’t belong to you.
“People died. Their potential was sucked out of this world. And their joy, and their happiness, and their love, and it will bless us no more. And you ought to be horrified with yourself, for allowing that to occur. Because the world is a sadder place because of it.”
Nobody spoke after that, the Doctor’s words casting such a long shadow over the office. Lizzie, who probably wouldn’t have said much anyway, was in even more shock than usual, at this unleashing of a side to the Doctor that had, so far, been hidden away from her. She had noticed something in him, right from the very start – there had been a mutual understanding between the two of them, with the two of them perhaps understanding each other in a way nobody else did. Lizzie felt that finally, she had seen the Doctor lift the lid on that subject she had been understanding until this point. She was in shock at how deep it ran through him.
Dicky, meanwhile, was looking sheepish, as he had been for at least 10 minutes. He still looked down at his desk, but the eyes that were eying the filth accumulated on his cup of coffee were now perhaps more accepting. Or so Lizzie had thought, until eventually, Dicky spoke, and said: “I think you should both leave.”
It was of no surprise that this was his response. Although Dicky seemed like a hilarious chap, he was a mumbling moron, who was clearly going to go on as he was. Somebody who was going to kill millions. Who is killing millions. Who had killed millions.
The Doctor looked at him, as if to say, ‘this isn’t over’. Dicky gave him a similar glance. The Doctor stood up, and so did Lizzie, and Lizzie led the way to the door. But before they left, the Doctor offered one passing remark.
“These people were so beautiful. So good. Why would you destroy them?”
And with that, they left.
***
“I must admit,” Jo said, as they stood on the balcony of the UNIT offices, looking down at the city below them. They were in a typically liberal hypocritical position, Lizzie decided. They should’ve been down in the city, being active and helping the change that was needed to come about.
“I’ve dealt with Richard Hubble a number of times,” Jo continued. “And he’s one of the worst politicians I have ever met.”
She said this as if it were meant to make things any easier. It didn’t. After all, the Doctor and Lizzie been removed from the Intergalactic Affairs building, and Dicky remained, lording it over from his glass tower. It seemed as if Dicky was not going anywhere anytime soon – however, the rumour-mill was functioning at optimum capacity, and already word had started to spread of Dicky and a major confrontation. Nobody quite knew what, although Dicky had made a statement (on Twitter, along with a poll asking his followers to decide what he should have for dinner) trying to quash the rumours.
Perhaps their hypocrisy, as they looked down below them, highlighted instead the corruption of society – that it was only those who could stand at the top of skyscrapers who could make change happen. Lizzie shelved that pessimistic thought, however, because she herself believed that if people, no matter who they were, wanted to make something happen, then it was always possible.
Once upon a time, Lizzie would never have thought that. She always believed that her life was subject to those at the top. And to be fair – it still was. And for the foreseeable future, it always would be. But she had learned that she could fight against that system – she did not have to accept it.
It was still a terrifying thought, however. That humanity at its purest could not sway the hearts of the cruel gods who played with it. It was clearly a thought that preyed heavy on the Doctor’s mind, as he had barely said a word since they arrived back at UNIT HQ. In fact, he barely said anything since leaving Dicky’s office. Jo could see it, and other than a few brief words of consolation, she didn’t know what to say.
It was at that moment, that someone knocked on the balcony door. Jo nodded, and it opened.
“Mr Cooper here to see you?” Jo’s PA said.
“Send him through, Josh,” Jo acknowledged. Her PA nodded, and then he left. “Someone is here to see you, Doctor.”
Only a few seconds passed, before a little bearded gentleman hobbled out onto balcony. His face was lined and his eyes were sunken, and he was, perhaps, quite shabbily dressed, with a tweed jacket a little bit too big, and baggy trousers, along with a half-untucked shirt. But a red tie was emblazoned around his neck, a great red flag, and although this man was old, and although he perhaps seemed like he was spent, there was something about him.
For looks meant nothing.
There was an elfin presence in front of them, ready to leap into leadership, and take the country to dizzying heights. In fact, the appearance in front of them was not so much of a scarecrow, but instead, the appearance of a Prime Minister. He was the picture of all great socialist leaders, and this little man held himself like a true statesman – more so than any other political figure they had met so far. This was a man who was determined to right by the people, and not determined to stay in power no matter what the human cost.
“Doctor,” Jo had noted the Doctor’s bemused looks, and so she gestured to the bearded gentleman who had joined them on the balcony. “Mr Jackson Cooper – the Leader of the Opposition.”
“Doctor,” Jackson strode over to him, and took his hand, and shook it warmly. Jackson greeted him as an old friend. “I’ve heard about the fantastic work you did earlier today.”
Fantastic work, the Doctor thought. It wasn’t like he had achieved anything major. In fact, he had done nothing. He could not bring back the lost, he could not go to those people who had lost, and tell them that everything was going to be okay. Because he knew that it wouldn’t be. But he didn’t say that – all he said was “thank you, Mr Cooper.”
“It’ll take a while yet,” Jackson admitted. “But thankfully, it feels as if there’s hope, that the tide could turn our way. Now you’ve got the rumour-mill spinning, we’re going to table a motion. To stop funding Martian governments that fund terrorism, to create a new intergalactic affairs policy.”
Lizzie gave the Doctor an awkward nudge, and he smiled obediently. Although – it wasn’t obediently. He smiled because it seemed that things could change.
“We’ll take them down,” Jackson nodded firmly, a grim determination, but a great optimism, in his eyes, as he looked over at Dicky’s tower in the distance. “In the end, we will take them all down… and it’ll be for them,” he pointed below. “We deserve so much more than this.”
The Doctor turned to properly look at the mercurial gentleman beside him. “You remind me of someone,” he observed.
“A certain former Prime Minister?” Jackson laughed. “Yeah… I get that a lot.”
Lizzie’s heart skipped a beat a little then, but she regained herself. Yes… perhaps there was definitely hope yet.
OhmygodacertainformerprimeministerIwonderwhothatcouldbe – shush Elizabeth, she told herself. Although they had made a start, they still had vast amounts of work to do.
***
Lizzie was rather enjoying her cup of tea, 100 years in the future. As she sipped it from its polystyrene cup (except it wasn’t polystyrene, as supposedly, it could keep the tea hot for over a day), she felt it seep inside her, warming her. It was as if the heat of the tea made the inside of her warm too – not a raging blaze, but the sort of crackling flames one liked to see on a chilly day in the middle of winter. It wasn’t even that wintery, now. In fact, it was the middle of August. But she still felt as if she needed that tea… as if she needed that warmth.
The only difference between her teas and future tea was that this one came along with a strange sense of artificiality. And not that plastic-cup-preservative artificiality either. Something else… as if the world around them were artificial as well, and it had injected some of its effete into the liquid.
Oh god. Imagine if I was saying this aloud.
Only she could have such an in-depth discussion in her head regarding the taste of tea. In fact, Lizzie hoped that nobody else was privy to her thoughts, otherwise they would get rather sick of that constant discussion going on in her head. Lizzie also hoped that nobody else was privy to her thoughts because they were her thoughts, and she rather liked keeping them to herself. Nobody else’s business. Although she was quite content with keeping herself to herself – and in many cases, she knew, in her heart, that it was quite acceptable. However, with certain things, she thought that probably wasn’t the most beneficial attitude to take. Although aware of her own awareness, she still couldn’t bring herself to act upon it, however.
But something about the Doctor had moved her. Now, there was a part of her that wanted to say things. Perhaps she felt her relationship with the Doctor to be honest, following his emotional pleas – after all, it was as if he had opened his heart to the two others in that room, and although the second person had been an arse, Lizzie thought that, perhaps, she had been able to see inside it. And perhaps it was this newfound honesty that made her… more comfortable. Though no matter how much she tried, she still couldn’t. Maybe those thoughts would have to wait until she had finally reconciled them with herself. After all – how could she deal with something if she didn’t understand it for herself? The courage would find her… one day.
The sun was setting over the beautiful city, and the people milled around them. There was an air of contentment about, as if, perhaps, there was hope yet, even if the days were still dark. She sat on a bench, on the bank beside the Thames, beneath a wicker canopy, which had fairy-lights weaved through the wood. The setting sun streamed through as well, and she watched as it played against the little white Costa letters on the cup. As she sipped her tea, she allowed the warmth of humanity to reach her as well, sitting back against the bench, and listening to their chatter, their laughter, that general hubbub of humdrum life. And ahead of her, she trailed the little boats floating along the river, people off to far-distant lands, with hope in their heads and dreams in their hearts. She smiled, then, and was happy.
It was at that moment that the Doctor came and sat beside her, and a few moments of silence followed. It wasn’t awkward, for once. That was new. The Doctor did speculate whether it had been him opening up that had broken down a few walls, and that they were now on more honest terms. But as he glanced over at his companion, he realised that he knew very little about her. Regardless of the events that had led to this hallmark in their relationship, they both enjoyed the silence – a silence of mutual understanding, and of listening to the world. After all… who knew when it would all be over.
“Everything, I suppose,” the Doctor began to muse, and Lizzie wondered where he was going. “Everything is artificial, to a certain extent.”
Lizzie wondered how he’d known what she’d been thinking, but then she expected he’d wondered the same after all those times she’d been weird and understood what he was thinking. She also wondered what he meant by it – as she looked at the world around her, she felt its realness. It was all extremely vivid. But then, she was reminded of something he’d said to her, a while ago now.
“The Jenga tower of time.”
“Yes,” the Doctor confirmed.
And it was a reassuring state of mind, to be fair. If everything could change, then there was always hope that something could be done, no matter how bleak everything was. You could always take out bricks, and put them back in another location.
The Doctor spoke again. “Life is on a knife-edge, time is in flux.”
What they would both give for life not to be so cruel. For life to be kind.
“Oh, well, we can be optimistic,” the Doctor continued, because in reality, that was all anybody had. Sheer optimism. Lizzie sighed, because that counted for very little. The Doctor acknowledged the sigh, but continued on. “For we’re not thinking about the future. We’re thinking about a future. Perhaps Jo will succeed in lobbying against Martian warfare. Perhaps, Dicky will lose his job. Perhaps the Leader of the Opposition will become Prime Minister. If we can dream, and we can achieve those dreams, then time cannot put obstacles in the way of change. Perhaps… perhaps one day, the people who have lost their family will find some contentment.”
They both doubted it would be anything considerable. But at least they could hope. And Lizzie admired his optimism. She truly did, although she was still a bit hung up on life being on a knife edge.
The Doctor decided to speak openly. “I am… lost, I think.”
We should get tee-shirts, Lizzie thought to herself. Enjoy your stay.
As the Doctor looked at her, he could almost tell she was thinking something sarcastic, even though she’d never say it. However, he had her to thank for being able to accept it. In fact – it had been Lizzie Darwin that had given him hope, that perhaps one day, he might find himself. As the Doctor looked over at her, he thought that she was thinking the same – that she too, was lost. Except her eyes were sadder, and she still didn’t have that hope.
Lizzie didn’t want to make it about herself. She thought of all the people who, that evening, would be coming to terms with the worst news that they would ever receive in their lives. A loved one, who they had laughed with, and cried with, and who they would never laugh and cry with again. A family cruelly shattered, and the impossible journey that would follow, of trying to make sense of the fragments that remained.
It made her want a family even more, just so she could be thankful. She looked over at the Doctor, and thought that perhaps, one day, they would find one.
***
The future belongs to none of us.
I could die tomorrow, and because life is a cruel and nasty place, it accepts it, and it cannot be changed. Life is on a knife-edge and there is nothing we can do about it, apart from treasure each moment, before the maliciousness of existence can claim it.
But, the here and now, as we live and breathe, that belongs to us. We may be suspended, above a pit of unpredictability and randomness and billions and billions of fleeting random chances. And because of that, time is malleable, like… playdough, it can be warped, and changed, and played about with. Tomorrow is not ours, and so we may not be able to change it – but we can change today. If you see a problem with the world, you can do something about it.
Everyone can change it, if people can come together. The future does not have to be the future, it can be a future.
When the Ice Warriors came to Earth, and we began the revolution, we got the people started. And the people came together, they decided to fight against their white-haired overlords in the skyscrapers. Due to mass pressure, the legislation was passed – intergalactic warfare on Mars was halted, and selling arms stopped. The government looked weak, and hey – perhaps things will change.
Because things have to change. The people have been wronged too many times, and after the events today, I found somewhere quiet, and I just cried. Because the people are treated like cattle, the losses of the people are treated worthlessly. On the news, we hear about someone who died in an attack, but none of that can communicate the sheer torment that their family members will face. Nothing will bring back the love and joy of those who were lost, nothing can bring back the sheer potential they brought to the world.
And before long they’re forgotten about. And it is this, that is the greatest disgrace of all. The government politicises it, the media sensationalises it. But nobody remembers what this is about, more than anything else.
The people.
The fight will be tough. This legislation may have been passed in the future, but for so many places, such laws are a pipedream. We must bring it everywhere, we must raise the truth. The media is still controlled by fascist monopolies, and their rhetoric continues to radicalise. We must make sure everyone knows about it, and maybe, then, things will change.
It is a fight that, perhaps, we have started. But we have not won.
We will, though.
And we will do it for the lost, and for those who have lost.
With that, Lizzie finished her story, and shut her laptop. Perhaps now, the word was out, and time would begin to change.
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Next time - the blood tiesAll across the universe, the time lines have been converging. A long time ago, something began, and it is in a terrified universe that it will come to realisation.
Beginning with a reunion with his wife, Cioné, in London 2017, the Doctor is about to be thrown into the maddest, craziest adventure of his life. A rollercoaster through not only through time and space, but a journey through the wonder and magic of life. It will induce fear, delight, sadness, laughter, heartbreak, and joy, into his hearts. This is the Doctor's greatest challenge yet. And all of it because of one, simple word... |