Time and The Doctor
by Andie J. P. Frankham & Greg Miller

The Doctor spun round, just in time to witness the liquid time come into contact with the base of the console. ‘Alf,’ he said. ‘Whatever you do, keep hold of that cane!’

IT IS TOO LATE NOW, DOCTOR. YOUR BODY WILL BE MINE!

The liquid time seemed to leap from the door and encased the Doctor. Alf moved forward in a vain attempt to help, but a small tendril of liquid time lashed out and sent her flying across the control room.

Liquid time oozed throughout the room, running up the base of the console, covering the six panels, and enveloping the time rotor. In a matter of minutes nothing of the new console room could be seen, except for the indistinct mushroom of the central console, the unconscious Alf, and the erect but frozen form of the Doctor.

All of them imprisoned in the inescapable deluge of Liquid time.

It felt as though a Sumo wrestler had tried, unsuccessfully, to tiptoe past the Doctor’s mental defences and into his brain. The alien presence in his mind was swamping him: more powerful than even the combined presences of the Collector and the Figure had been.

The first image appeared. It was like those he had seen in the little pool of liquid time back in his curio shop. An image of a tall and powerfully built individual. The Doctor recognised the dark skinned man immediately. It was the single greatest figure in Time Lord history.

Rassilon.

Episode Four:

The large, bearded Time Lord was at the controls of a ship that struck the Doctor as being both incredibly sophisticated and undeniably primitive at the same time. It was sophisticated compared to the standards of most races in the universe and yet primitive when weighed against the superiority of the TARDIS.

Rassilon was staring at a scanner screen intently, occasionally toying with his beard and moustache in unconscious excitement. ‘It’s working,’ he whispered, barely audible. Realising what he was doing, he straightened up and spoke confidently into a communicator. ‘This is Rassilon calling Gallifrey Central Command. I’m pleased to advise that, as I had calculated, the Time Scaphe has penetrated the barrier to the fourth dimension. Those who have described it as a “time stream” have been proven correct. At the moment, turbulence is negligible, although that may not continue to be the case.’

‘This was my first encounter with one of your kind.’ The voice of Ashgotoroth spoke directly into the Doctor’s consciousness. ‘An unwelcome and reckless intruder in my very being.’

‘It must have been just after Omega’s sacrifice and the harnessing of the Eye of Harmony.’ The Doctor’s voice was calm, speculative. ‘What do you mean, your “very being”?’

‘It appears that truth is not highly regarded by your scholars,’ came the reply. ‘Are you familiar with the concepts of microcosm and macrocosm, and their interconnectedness, or did they conceal that from you as well?’

‘“As above, so below.” Always seemed like mystical twaddle to me,’ said the Doctor.

‘Then watch.’

Inside the time craft, Rassilon was being buffeted about.

‘Turbulence,’ he announced. ‘Unsurprising, really - laminar flow relies on there being nothing to disrupt it. Introducing this Scaphe into the time stream has disturbed its equilibrium. Experiments to determine what form the exterior of the ship should take to minimise turbulence will be required.’

The craft juddered suddenly, as if struck by something.

Rassilon returned his attention to the scanner. The seemingly underwater scene he had previously noted was still visible, but there was something oozing across the scanner’s external sensor. It was a like giant amoeba.

‘I appear to have encountered the first proof of life forms in the fourth dimension. The Scaphe has struck or been struck by something, and it is clinging to the ship’s exterior.’ He looked up, startled, as the craft’s superstructure began to groan. ‘Something’s happening. I’m concerned for the Scaphe’s integrity. Uncertain what is causing the stress on the supports, but it happened immediately after encountering the chronal life form. Dropping back into the standard three dimensions...’ He adjusted the control panel before him. ‘Now!’

‘I do not see anything about microcosms and macrocosms in this,’ the Doctor remarked.

‘That is because you are too impetuous to watch the whole thing without interruption,’ Ashgotoroth said. ‘Patience.’

The scene had changed. It was now focussed on the outer wilderness of Gallifrey; the orange sky being quite distinctive to anyone who had spent any time under it. A large, rotund shape suddenly appeared, accompanied by a thunderous roaring, which the Doctor recognised as similar to the TARDIS materialisation sound, but jumbled in an unfamiliar cacophony.

From a short distance away, a group of men was approaching. Two men dressed in black robes were accompanied by six others dressed in Ruritanian garb. The Doctor recognised them as early Chancellery Guard uniforms. As they approached the newly arrived craft, the guards came to a halt in two rows, flanking the men in black, who moved forward slightly before stopping a discrete distance from the ship, waiting.

The exterior hatch of the Scaphe swung open, and Rassilon climbed out, a little ungainly. The black-robed men gave a polite round of applause.

Rassilon smiled broadly and walked towards them.

Behind him, two semi-transparent shapes peeled themselves from the exterior of the Time Scaphe and leapt at the leader of the soon-to-be Time Lords. The guards rushed forward, stasers at the ready. Rassilon turned to face the amoeboids, backing away towards the guards.

‘Beings from the fourth dimension...’ he began, just before the two creatures leapt at him.

The Chancellery Guards opened fire. The blobs absorbed the blasts and began to glow from within. Immediately, two of the guards grabbed Rassilon and pushed him behind them, before turning to fire once more at their iridescent enemies. Again, no readily apparent harm was done.

In response, the blob-shaped beings extruded tentacles towards the two guards. As the tendrils touched the Gallifreyan soldiers, they fell to the ground, apparently dead. The remaining guards hurriedly shepherded Rassilon and the two high-ranking Gallifreyans away from the bodies. When the group had retreated a safe distance, the two amoebas began to wrap themselves around their fallen foes, seeming to wither away as they did so. Finally, just the guards’ bodies were left on the ground.

As the last traces of the amoeboids vanished, the two stricken guards slowly rose to their feet, their weapons ignored on the ground. Overjoyed at this turn of events, their comrades raced forward to greet them. Their happiness was short lived for when the first guard reached his former friends, he was attacked. The supposedly recovered pair fell on him with ferocious strength; biting at his neck. Before they could react, the remaining Chancellery guards suffered a similar fate.

‘Vampires?’ cried the Doctor. ‘How...?’

‘They came from the time stream. Their natural form is not easily adaptable to the lower planes of reality, so they took over the bodies of those who originate from those dimensions.’

‘I understand that vampires are creatures that possess the dead bodies of their victims, but how… I do not understand how they came from this so-called “time stream”.’

‘And the history of your people doesn’t tell you?’

‘It speaks of our war with the vampires, but is rather vague on how they came to be. Some claim it was Rassilon’s fault, but I never believed...’

‘Your people could never face up to the truth,’ Ashgotoroth’s voice said, echoing tauntingly around the Doctor’s mind. ‘Even now, calling them “vampires”, you avoid the simple truth of their being. The microcosm and the macrocosm.’

‘So you keep saying. Your meaning eludes me still.’

‘The things you call “vampires” live in the time stream. In your own body, you have similar creatures. They hunt through your blood stream looking for foreign matter and eliminating it.’

‘Are you saying that vampires are some kind of antibodies in the time stream?’

‘You may call it a time stream, little man, but to me it is a blood stream.’

‘Meaning?’

‘You and your kind are parasites that have evolved inside my body. What you call “time” is the substance that nourishes all parts of me. With your experiments and tampering, you place me at risk. My antibodies, my “vampires”, will wipe you out and save me!’

‘Liquid time is... your blood?’

‘As above, Doctor, so below. And as you live on my blood, so to do my antibodies live on yours.’

‘This does not make sense. How is it that vampires, your so-called antibodies, are so rare if they are meant to be removing infection from your liquid time stream?’

‘Watch, Doctor. Watch.’

The scene in the Doctor’s mind changed. Rassilon was still in it, looking haggard and with the beginnings of grey hair creeping into his appearance. He was not on Gallifrey any more. The scene showed him amongst a series of adobe brick structures, each little bigger than the external dimensions of the TARDIS. In many of them sat elegantly dressed individuals, chanting as they poured over paper scrolls.

‘My thanks, Monitor, for the agreement of Logopolis to this task,’ said Rassilon to the younger man he was standing with. ‘What we have discovered in the time stream terrifies me, and may well signal the end of us all if we do not find some way to block these creatures - these vampires - from coming to our worlds.’

‘Your solution, Lord President, is so complex that no one but the mathematicians of Logopolis could possibly attempt it.’

Rassilon appeared a little uncomfortable with his new title, but the Monitor continued by uttering a complex mathematical formula. Briefly, in the air between the two men, a circular shape shimmered into being, within its disc circular arcs swirling.

‘The Seal of Rassilon…’ breathed the Doctor.

‘As you know, the solution can only be used to shape something; it would be impossible for even our minds to undertake such a task of block transfer computation on an ongoing basis.’ The Monitor looked at Rassilon, enquiringly. ‘Have you found a substance that can be shaped into this vortex you will shield us from the time stream with?’

‘The answer, my dear Monitor, was so simple that I almost overlooked it. The only substance that could block time is time itself. The computations your people undertake will reshape time, changing it from a liquid to a solid form, and within the walls of the solid time vortex liquid time will still circulate, sealed off from the time stream and its vampires. The Eye of Harmony will power the motion of the vortex, and will allow our vessels to sail in it.’

‘An elegant solution, Lord President. It will, however, take considerable time to include these factors in the computations. Will you be able to hold off these vampires for that long?’

‘War is not in my nature, but it is required for the survival of us all,’ replied Rassilon, his face hardening. ‘We are building weapons that will allow us to penetrate the bodies that vampires possess, and disperse them. And once the vortex is constructed, we will hunt down those that remain and exterminate every last one!’

‘So, the vortex keeps you out, does it? And its shape became known as “the Seal of Rassilon”. A temporal seal rather an symbolic one, though.’ The Doctor chuckled. ‘What a wily old fox Rassilon was.’ His voice took on a steely edge as he addressed Ashgotoroth once more. ‘Nothing else to talk about, then. Once we have mopped up you and your vampires here on Earth, everyone will be safe again.’

‘You really have no idea, do you? You think that the universe consists of a number of constants that don’t change. Where is Gallifrey now? Where are the Time Lords?’

‘There are a number of them at Outpost Gallifrey...’ began the Doctor.

‘When the paradoxes were resolved and the new version of history came into being, the obstructions of Rassilon and Gallifrey were swept away by a cleansing rush of liquid time. The vortex he burnt into my time stream broke apart and was dispersed. Only a few pieces of flotsam - you, Outpost Gallifrey, the Matrix chamber on “Voga” - remain in the universe. The people of this timeline are once more in the stream of liquid time that flows through my body, or what you would perceive as a body given your limited imagination.’

‘That does not make sense! How can I be travelling in a device developed by Rassilon, if Rassilon never existed in the first place?’

‘You expect the resolution of universal paradoxes to make sense to someone as limited as you?’ A peal of laughter echoed around the Doctor’s mental faculties.

‘I am glad someone is enjoying this,’ said the Doctor sarcastically. ‘So, the barriers Rassilon built around history are gone. That explains something, in any case.’ His mind focussed briefly on a number of threats he had opposed - vampires, the Eternal in Paris, the so-called Hitchhiker at the Collector’s zoo, the Tiger’s Eyes, the Protii - and on how these creatures from the early ages of the universe now seemed far more common than they should be.

‘And yet, despite the millennia that have passed, your antibodies still have not eliminated the many forms of sapient life, and neither have you died. Surely that means that the vampires will never succeed, but that it does not matter as life on my scale is not deadly to you?’

‘Not deadly when confined, Doctor, but wandering freely in the time stream? Expanding the infection sites and potentially damaging my ability to continue to exist? That I cannot allow. With Rassilon and Gallifrey, the infection of you and your kind was confined. Now…’

‘Now you have decided that even the smallest chance of harm to you must be eliminated. But if what you say is true, if you were to die then so would we. Even without your vampires, we would have to restrain ourselves for our own survival. You must see that, surely?’

‘Creatures who live such short life spans cannot see existence on the scale that I do, Time Lord. Even that title, the one your people chose for themselves, shows how small your thinking is. In infinity, even if something has a small chance of ever occurring, at some time it must occur. By living at all, you parasites must kill me one day – unless I wipe you out altogether.’

‘While you are correct mathematically, Ashgotoroth, there is one thing that not even the mathematics of Logopolis can predict: what life will do. If everyone thought in the mathematical way you do, the “threat” you perceive life making to you would never have occurred. Everything must end, so why would anyone try to achieve anything at all?’

Ashgotoroth let out a sound that reminded the Doctor of a yawn. ‘I don’t even know why I am communicating with you at all.’

‘But there is a reason, is there not Ashgotoroth?’

‘Why else would I be bothering with you, Doctor? Yes, I have a reason. A very good one.’

‘This is part of your plan to take over my body.’

This time Ashgotoroth did not even bother to laugh. ‘I have stimulated some of your earliest memories, Time Lord. Your body is already mine; you are trapped in those memories alone. But I have a use for your mind as well as your body…’

In the TARDIS control room; all was still beneath the reflective shell of liquid time. Mirror images of mirrored surfaces reflected off into infinity, the lack of differentiation rendering everything practically invisible.

At one end of the console room, looking like a statue carved in silver, stood Alf. In one hand the outline of a long stick could be made out. At the tip of the stick shape, liquid time was slipping, losing its hold like water on oil, revealing the engraved Seal of Rassilon.

The Seal glowed blue with a rhythmic pulse. The blue light, too, was reflected in the eternity of mirrors that the TARDIS interior had become.

Pulsing in time with the Seal, two small circles appeared in the air. They, too, glowed an unearthly azure. Weakly at first, and then stronger, a wheezing and groaning sound filled the control room. A figure of a woman materialised where the two blue circles floated above the floor, circles that now revealed themselves to be the irises of a pair of eyes.

When she had achieved solid form, Tardis tossed her head to whirl the blonde hair away from her face. She smiled a grim and determined smile. She could feel what was happening in the Doctor’s mind: Ashgotoroth preparing to bring his plans to fruition.

She walked confidently to where the console was submerged beneath a laminate of liquid time. Behind her, she left a trail of footprints where the floor of the control room lay exposed, the liquid time rippling at the edges and slowly closing over her tracks.

She reached out for the controls she wanted, and paused, frowning. Bending down, she picked up a small silvery object from below the console. She swept a hand over it quickly but gently, freeing a small black shape from its case. Missy opened her eyes and mewed plaintively.

Tardis began to scratch under the cat’s chin, smiling. A loud purring quickly rewarded her. ‘Don’t you worry, Missy,’ she said kindly. ‘Just wait here until I’m done.’ With her right hand, Tardis swept the liquid time off the top of the time rotor and lifted the cat there.

Eyes still on Missy, Tardis’s hands quickly sought the controls she needed. She knew this console as if it were a part of her, which, of course, it was.

‘Contact.’

‘And what might that be? Some kind of encyclopaedia of the parts of space and time from which you have been cut off?’

‘You will learn that in due course. As a Time Lord you must understand that things are only revealed when the time is right.’

A husky, musical voice suddenly interrupted the conversation. ‘Contact.’

It was like someone had let the dawn of a blue sun into the Doctor’s mind, as the sapphire glow of artron energy shone from the eyes of Tardis. The light illuminated the manifestation of Ashgotoroth, a snarling shadow with ragged, uneven teeth.

‘I was wondering when you would spring our trap,’ the Doctor said to the female form that floated in his mindscape. ‘I was afraid something might have gone wrong.’

‘Wrong?’ Tardis laughed cheerfully. ‘I come from a long line of sentiences who bend time to our wills.’ She smiled at the Doctor but her eyes still held Ashgotoroth in their gaze.

‘Hah! The tamed time of Rassilon’s vortex. It is nothing compared to the true rushing force of my being!’ Ashgotoroth laughed again.

‘We shall see.’ With that, the glow in Tardis’ eyes grew brighter and stronger, burning its way to a blue so bright that it was almost white. The face of the dark god screwed up at the onslaught, dark eyes closing.

Within his consciousness, Ashgotoroth could see the face of the Doctor, the face of the woman, and the circular form that Rassilon had burnt into the god’s essence, each flashing alternatively in the very seat of his being. The memory of the pain Rassilon had inflicted on him was like a new thing, blue and bright and burning.

Blue.

Bright.

Burning.

The first thing that Alf remembered was a small noise, like the lid of a box closing. She thought she saw the head of the cane swing shut, but maybe it was just a trick of the light.

Alf blinked rapidly, trying to clear her mind. She had to find some way to stop the liquid time…

‘Where’s it gone?’ she asked out loud. ‘It was starting to get in.’

‘You need to keep up with events, Alf.’ The Doctor’s voice came from behind her right shoulder, and she turned to face him.

‘All right, then. But to do that, I need a reliable source of information. Not really your bag, is it? You’re all secrets and “I’ll explain later”, which you never bleedin’ well do!’

‘Is that how you see me, Alf? Very well. What has happened is this: knowing that Ashgotoroth would try to inhabit my body, Tardis and I set in place new emergency protocols. We mapped the contents of my mind into the telepathic circuits and, when the time was right, the emergency protocols extracted everything that did not match the map. Simple really.’

‘Simple? It sounds impossible! And where did it suck that murderous bastard away to? And where’s the liquid time gone?’

‘The liquid time is in the hidden compartment of my cane. Without Ashgotoroth’s mind driving it, it is quite safe to handle. As to where his mind is now, come with me and I will show you.’ The Doctor strode towards the door leading deeper into the TARDIS, and Alf followed.

When the door closed, the only living creature left in the control room was Missy. She had not noticed them go, for she was far too busy sleeping on top of the time rotor.

It was a room in the TARDIS that Alf had never seen before. Large and airy, full of old machinery like something taken straight from the 19th Century. Alf listened to the sound of pistons and gears shifting, mixing in with the usual steady background hum of the TARDIS.

There was, however, something that seemed out of place. Floating in the centre of the room was a large circular disc. It spun slowly and gave off a faint blue glow. Alf recognised the design: she held one in her hand, on the head of the Doctor’s cane, but she had first seen it on Voga, not long before she had met the new Doctor for the first time.

He had called it the Seal of Rassilon.

‘And he’s in there?’ she asked the Doctor.

‘Indubitably. The design was first used by my people to seal off space and time from Ashgotoroth and his minions. Except that it also never was. It can be confusing, having memories of two versions of history.’

‘I bet. One set of memories is all I need.’ She paused, her mind going back to her wedding, to Nick. She felt her eyes growing hot with remorse and wiped away the tears before they could form. ‘I told that creep you never lose, Doctor. But it isn’t true. We’ve both lost Nick.’

The Doctor frowned, and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. ‘There are no words I can say that will ease that pain for myself, let alone you. But never forget: you do not grieve alone.’

‘I know, Doctor.’ Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Thank you for being Nick’s friend, and mine as well.’

The two stood in silence for a while, both remembering.

It was Alf who broke the silence. ‘Time to tie up loose ends, Doctor. You get rid of this thing,’ she pointed at the disc, ‘and I’d better get back to Earth to arrange the funeral.’

‘Earth?’ the Doctor asked. ‘Not home to Alpha Centauri?’

‘I couldn’t face all our friends now, not so soon after… Besides, Nick told me Earth is where he became human, so that makes it his birthplace more or less. He was born there, so he should be buried there.’

‘As you wish.’ The Doctor turned and placed a paternal arm around Alf’s shoulder. ‘I knew that is what you would have wanted, so I had a word with Alistair about including Nick in the upcoming UNIT memorial.’ Alf looked up at him blankly. ‘We are not the only ones who have lost a good man during this crisis, Alf.’

‘You’re right.’ She glanced back at the disc one last time, before the Doctor led her out of the TARDIS power room.

‘We had best return to the control room. After I drop you off, I will need to drop Ashgotoroth over the event horizon of a black hole. The relativistic time dilation should be enough to keep a being made entirely of liquid time from escaping.’

Alf sniffed. What had happened at the memorial left only the lightest trace of memories. The details would be forever vague.

It was not just Nick who was remembered that day; others had been buried, too. Something that Alf knew would never happen with Nick’s body, as it had been lost to the winds of the time vortex. Many members of UNIT had also been lost in what was now being called ‘the Highgate Event’. Lt Surgeon Harry Sullivan was mentioned often. Alf remembered him only vaguely, but it was plain he had been very popular with his colleagues.

When she tried to remember more, something large and heavy reared up in her memory. Nick’s commemorative inscription hung beside those belonging to dead soldiers.

Little details remained. Ruby bustling around, a sad but friendly smile for everyone and, back at UNIT HQ after the ceremony, food and drinks. A soldier named Ashton, who had broken down when the name of one of the deceased was announced. Kowlard trying to reassure everyone.

Mostly she remembered Simon. He stayed right by her side, a pillar of strength when she needed it the most.

One other thing: the eyes of the Doctor when he had arrived just before the ceremony. He looked like he had seen a ghost, which it turned out he almost had – the Doctor had dropped by Peladon in order to ensure no paradox could occur. While the Doctor never saw Nick, proximity to his dead yet living companion had really shaken him. Alf remembered the haunted look in the Doctor’s eyes back in the caves of Peladon, and now she understood what it had meant.

Time travel. That sort of thing could happen any time. What would she do if she saw Nick alive again? It did not bear thinking about.

She needed to do something, though.

Ruby bounced her way over to the Doctor but slowed down when she saw the sombre look on his elegant face. She offered the plate in her hand. ‘Care for a sarnie, Doctor?’

The Doctor glanced down at her, and smiled wistfully. ‘No, thank you, Ruby. My appetite is not what it used to be.’ He glanced over at Alf who was talking animatedly to Simon. He looked back at Ruby and held out a hand. ‘I had better say goodbye now. Goodbyes have never been my strong point, so Alf and I will slip away quietly in a moment.’

Ruby peered over at Alf. ‘You sure about that, pet? Something tells me that Alf isn’t going with you.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You’d better ask her yourself, dear.’

The Doctor stood there for a second then made his way across the canteen towards his companion. Ruby watched him, and then she smiled. She glanced around the hall quickly, and then darted into her own private quarters adjacent to the kitchens.

‘Alf?’ the Doctor said by way of an interruption.

Alf looked up at him and then back at Simon. ‘This shouldn’t take too long.’ Simon nodded and walked off to mingle with the high brass of UNIT.

For a few moments the two of them stood there, to one side of the room, neither quite sure what to say to the other. The Doctor finally spoke. ‘It was a nice memorial service.’

Alf nodded. ‘Shame Vlaash couldn’t be here, really. He’d have liked to say goodbye to Nick.’

Now it was the Doctor’s turn to nod. ‘True. Alas, too many explanations would have been needed had we had Martians on Earth at this point in its history.’

‘Pity, cause Vlaash and Xzalnyr could have stuck around for ten years, helped UNIT against the Cybermen invasion. As it is they’ll have to settle with my help.’

The Doctor’s mouth fell open. ‘Hold on a minute!’ He consciously had to lower his voice. ‘You have not told the whole of UNIT about the Cybermen invasion of 2001 have you?’

‘Course not.’

The Doctor let out a sight of relief.

‘Just General Lethbridge-Stewart and Brigadier Kowlard.’

‘What?’

Alf’s face hardened. ‘Hey, Doctor, get off your soapbox for a minute. You’re the one who told me that the future I know is all wrong, that Earth was never meant to become Nova Mondas.’

‘I know that! The future is wrong, but only for the universe that you belong to. This reality is now the way things are meant to be.’

Alf pointed at herself. ‘Not for me. And not for Nick, either!’

Heads began to turn as the heat of their conversation started to cause ripples in the canteen. The Doctor grabbed Alf’s arm and pulled her towards the TARDIS. ‘You think you can change the future?’

‘I can have a good stab at it,’ Alf said as she wrenched her arm from the Doctor’s grip.

‘Alf, the web of time is a delicate thing, not something to be messed about with by a rank amateur!’

‘Deal with it, Doctor! You’re too late to do anything about it now, anyhow. Lethbridge-Stewart has gone to Geneva to brief the UNIT chiefs.’

The Doctor looked to the floor and shook his head. ‘Oh, Alf, have you not learned a single thing since joining me on my travels?’

Alf pretended to give it some thought. ‘Yeah, life’s a bitch. People die. The future can be altered. Our actions today affect tomorrow. Take your pick, Doctor.’

The Doctor just stared at Alf.

She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, Doctor, for me that’s the way it is.’ Alf looked over at Simon and Ashton, who were both looking her way. ‘I gotta go, Doctor. Let’s leave on something like good terms, shall we?’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘I am afraid not, Alf.’ He stepped closer and pointed a finger at her. ‘See you in ten years time,’ he said slowly and turned away.

The Doctor walked over to the TARDIS and put the key in the door. Without looking back he pushed his way in. A voice called out to him.

‘Doctor! Wait for me!’

The Doctor turned in the threshold to see Ruby walking towards him. Carrying several bags and a suitcase. The Doctor frowned.

‘Ah, Ruby…’

Ruby dropped the suitcase by the step of the TARDIS and shoved a few bags into the Doctor’s arms. Except for being rude he had no other choice but to accept them.

‘You need someone to keep you company, Doctor. Who better than me? I’ve dreamed of travelling with you.’

‘I am flattered, but I think it is time I travelled alone for a while.’

‘Nonsense, pet. You need the company.’ Ruby winked. ‘Anyway, I’m not letting Missy go without me.’

The Doctor let out a long sigh. ‘Oh, very well.’ He stepped aside to let Ruby in.

‘Hold on,’ said another voice.

‘What now?’ the Doctor asked. ‘No more, thank you.’

The voice belonged to Kowlard. ‘Fear not, Doctor, I’m stuck here with UNIT. Just wanted to give Ruby a kiss goodbye.’

Ruby stepped back out of the TARDIS, now free of bags, with a big smile on her face. ‘Bobby, you didn’t think I would leave without saying goodbye to you, did you?’

‘Seemed like it.’

Ruby leaned forward and kissed Kowlard on the cheek. ‘Take care of things while I’m away now, Bobby. Oh, and give that Simon a job. He’s a very good driver.’

Kowlard smiled. ‘I’ll look into it.’ He turned to the Doctor, who was waiting patiently with the suitcase in his hand. ‘Take care of her, Doctor, she’s more fragile than she looks.’

The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, but Ruby got in there first. ‘Oh, hush now, Bobby. Me and the Doctor are going to have the times of our lives, aren’t we, Doctor?’

In response the Doctor held out his hand. ‘Goodbye, Brigadier,’ he said and ushered Ruby into the TARDIS. As the doors closed Kowlard was sure he saw a hint of a smile on the Doctor’s face.

Wheezing and groaning, the police box dematerialised, sending the Doctor and Ruby off to adventures new.

Alf looked down at the new jacket she had been given, at the UNIT symbol on the shoulder. It reminded her of something.

UNIT. Unite. That was it: Karl Marx. The tomb in Highgate cemetery. “Workers of all lands unite!” Workers of all lands did indeed need to unite. In a few years time the Cybermen would invade. According to Nick and the Doctor, that was the end of human life on Earth and the beginning of Nova Mondas.

Even now she could hear the Doctor speaking about preserving the web of time. Well, that was his philosophy. He could keep it.

Marx again: “The philosophers have only interpreted the world in various ways - the point however is to change it.” Change it she would, or die trying. After all, no Nova Mondas meant that Nick would never have started travelling with the Doctor, and so would never be killed by Bradley.

Maybe she should read more Marx? She snorted. Not likely! Nice ideas but look what had been done with them.

While she stood in thought, she noticed what looked like a man standing just off in her peripheral vision – almost behind her. She turned and approached him, smiling. ‘Oh my god, it can’t be…’

Alf stepped even closer to the man as her eyes began to mist over. ‘It is you!’

‘Down here we have...’ The Doctor’s voice trailed off as he rounded the corner.

In front of him were the living quarters of the TARDIS guests, a corridor with doors leading off into bedrooms. Aside from his own, the doors closest to him led to Nick’s, Alf’s and Brad’s rooms. He swallowed, not really wanting to think about these three when he was showing Ruby around the TARDIS.

Tardis herself must have sensed his concerns for, in the twinkling of an eye, the internal dimensions warped and twisted and suddenly the three doors were a long way further down the corridor, where he could avoid seeing them if he wanted to.

Other doors were now closer. He recognised the door to Jamie’s room, and there was Barbara’s and that one was...

He swallowed. Susan’s room.

‘And down here we have what?’ Ruby’s voice broke into his reverie. ‘The way you’ve been carrying on, anyone would think you didn’t know your own ship!’

‘My apologies, Ruby,’ the Doctor said, returning his attention to where it belonged: the present, not the past. ‘These are the living quarters. This door here leads to my room, and the one opposite will be yours.’

‘The first door in the corridor? That’s very convenient!’ Ruby smiled at the Doctor. ‘Now, if you’ll be a love and show me where the bathroom is, I can freshen up and then we can have a nice cuppa. Oh, and there’s one other thing we need to get settled straight away. Where do I put Missy’s kitty litter tray?’

The expression on the Doctor’s face was unreadable.