The Fallen Kingdom

The cemetery was shrouded in white, swirling mist. Each stone rose out of the ground like misshapen dominoes. They were surrounded at various points by bramble bushes and old, ancient trees, their leaves already taken their cue to leave for the winter.

It was dark and cold and the ground was damp. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted, but the bird was scared away with the sound of something...unearthly.

Slowly, on the pathway that ran between two plots of graves, a blue box materialised with a wheezing, groaning and grating sound - the very fabric of space and time being ripped open to allow the box to appear.



This was the time and space machine known as the TARDIS. The wonderful, magical box that belonged to the traveller known only as the Doctor.

The door clicked open and a small, round face peered curiously from the doors. It was a young woman. She was wearing a white dress that had obviously been modified for travelling to other worlds, judging by the length of it and the trouser-like clothing underneath. She had long, dark hair and her eyes were trying to soak in as much information as possible.

Her look of wonderment then turned to a frown.

“Hmmm,” she said with disapproval.

“What is it, Mary? Anything good?” came a male voice from inside the box.

“Come and see for yourself,” said the young woman - Mary.

Mary stepped out of the box and made a “errghh” sound as she stepped onto the muddy grass beside the graves.

Another face appeared in the doorway of the TARDIS. He was much taller than her, had short, grey hair and a little stubble around his chin. He was wearing a grey tweed suit, green waistcoat, white shirt and a black tie. He looked just as out of place as the girl. But then again, were you ever really out of place in a cemetery?

His eyes darted around before they settled on Mary.

“Ah,” he said quietly.

“Doctor,” whined Mary.

“I’m sorry, Mary,” said the Doctor, stepping from the TARDIS and locking the door behind him.

“And why are you locking up?” said Mary, hands on her hips.

“Mary, I can’t leave the TARDIS open to everybody to clamber into.”

“What I mean is, why are you locking up if we’re not staying?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, stepping onto the grass and wandering to look at a few of the graves.

“Let me put it more simply for you, Doctor. You promised to take me to see some music concert by that Beatles band you keep going on about. You know, you said you were trying to get better control over the TARDIS again.”
“Ah,” said the Doctor, skipping back to her and putting his hands on her shoulders. He was grinning widely at her. “The Beatles, Mary. If your delicate 1940’s ears can manage such a modern sound, you’ll fall in love with them. You may even go for a Beatles haircut. 1964 - Beatlemania at its hype!”

“Less of the delicate,” she said with a smile.

“It’s been a while since I took a companion to see the Beatles. Ah, ‘Love Me Do’, ‘Here, There and Everywhere’, ‘Paperback Writer’, ‘You Know My Name, Look Up The Number’…”

“I beg your pardon?”
“Classics, Mary, all of them. Although I don’t think they ever did that last one live. Well, John performed it in the console room that time, but -”

“And anyway, what’s a Beatles haircut?” she said, interrupting him.

“A sort of…” He tried to motion a bowl-like shape above her head. He realised he was failing miserable given the confused look on Mary’s face. “Well, anyway, I used to have one a long time ago. And if you were around in 1940’s Whitechapel you may have spotted my friend, Gary, playing a few of there songs.”

Mary laughed. “I can’t ever imagine you looking any different than you do now.”

The Doctor smiled. “Believe it or not, I used to have long, white hair.”

“Hang on,” said Mary, frowning, “how did your friend sing songs in 1940’s Whitechapel if the songs were written in the 1960’s?”

The Doctor tapped the end of her nose and winked.

“But, Doctor,” said Mary, leaning against the blue box as if hinting for them to go back inside, “you seem to fail to grasp the reason why I’m a little cross with you right now.”

The Doctor’s face dropped. “Cross? Why’s that?”

“Because you are supposed to be taking me home. It’s quite clear that you’ve got a little better at control this machine now, yet you still don’t seem to be able to get me back home, let alone a Beatings concert.”

“Beatles,” corrected the Doctor. “And I can’t help it. The TARDIS obviously took us here for a reason.”

“So why don’t we just get back inside and get going?”

The Doctor looked shocked at Mary for even suggesting something so absurd. “Mary, there’s a mystery here! There’s obviously something that needs to be done. A person who needs to be saved.”

“Just for once, Doctor, I’d prefer not to face imminent danger. Have you forgotten that we’ve only recently escaped from that Rathtokian experiment area?”

“Where’s that stiff-upper lip spirit?” said the Doctor, as he slowly wandered off amongst the gravestones.

“Considering you got me up in the middle of the night to tell me you were taking me to see these Beatles, you surely can understand why I’m a little frustrated to be standing in a cold, old, misty cemetery right now.”

“It’s not old,” said the Doctor.

“What? Of course it is,” said Mary, glancing at the worn-down gravestones, some of them overgrown with weeds and bushes.

“It’s not. Take a closer look.”

Mary knelt down beside one the Doctor had been looking at. She peered carefully at the date. It was worn down, but she could just make it out. It said that the person had died on July 18th 2009. She frowned. Although it was in the future - relatively speaking - for her, the gravestone was old and worn.

“We must be in the far future,” said the Doctor, “for gravestones from the 21st century to have aged so much.”

“Doctor, as sad as it is, there are always going to be cemetery’s. So we’ve found one in the future. What does that matter?”

“Come on,” said the Doctor as he strode off towards the main path that ran through the cemetery.

“But why?” said Mary, exasperated.

“Pure curiosity,” said the Doctor. “I want to know the newest grave in this place. Then I can work out the rough date.”

The path seemed to climb a gently rising hill, passing between more and more rows of trees, which in turn surrounded bigger and grander gravestones.

Mary suddenly felt very scared. She knew it was an irrational fear, of course. It was dark and cold, but the sight of a stone angel looming over her seemed to unnerve her.

The Doctor must have noticed her unease because he quickly took her hand and squeezed it tight.

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” said Mary.

“What is?”

“To be scared of angels. I should feel protected by them.”

The Doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “Not all angels are friendly. Some are. Some aren’t. And I’ve always wanted to meet the Ash Angels from the Grey City. Lovely ladies apparently.”

Eventually the trees became less and less, until they were on top of the gentle hill. Newer gravestones dotted the land around, but Mary felt somehow more comfortable here. Well, as comfortable as you can be in a cemetery. It felt more open and she didn’t feel as claustrophobic.

The Doctor was already jogging along to the grave nearest to the entrance. Mary cursed the muddy ground and it was then that she noticed the cityscape.

“Doctor, look!”

The Doctor stopped his jog and turned to where Mary was pointing. In the not-too-faraway distance, the twinkling lights of a futuristic city glittered against the black backdrop of the night sky.

“That’s beautiful,” said Mary, looking on in awe.

“Definitely in the future,” said the Doctor. “In fact…” He pulled out a small telescope from within his jacket and looked into the distance. “That’s the Chen Tower,” he put his telescope away.”
“The what?”

“The Chen Tower. Named after Mavic Chen, the ex-Guardian of the Solar System. He colluded with the Daleks and almost brought the entire galaxy into turmoil.”

“What are the Daleks?” Mary was beginning to feel this was a bit of information overload. She was struggling to keep up.

“Nasty little war machines. Hopefully you’ll never meet them.” He pointed towards the huge, narrow monument in the distance. “The tower was built in his honour during his reign. Looks like they’re taking it down because of his…well, his dishonour.”

“So what year would we be in then?”

“Some time after the year 4000, I’d say,” said the Doctor, skipping over the most recent gravestones. And then something made him stop in his tracks. Something that, to Mary, made him look as though he’d had all of his enthusiasm sucked out of him. She’d not seen him quite like this before.

He stood staring at a simple, white-marble gravestone. It can’t have been much higher than two-foot.

“Doctor, are you okay?” she said, joining him by his side.

He remained still and silent.

She looked at the name on the grave. It read:



“Here lies Sara Kingdom. Born February 1st 3968. Died May 23rd 4000. Sister to Brett Vyon, daughter to Jean and Paul Kingdom.”



Mary read on:



“She was lost in space, mere dust to the wind, but she has come home now, so her next life can begin.”



“Did you know her?” asked Mary, glancing momentarily at the Doctor.

The Doctor nodded slowly. “Yes. I knew her.”

“Did she travel with you?”

The Doctor let out a big, long sigh. “For a little while. Only a little while. She died whilst travelling with me. The Daleks aged her to death. I watched her as she just crumbled…to dust. The Space Corps must have brought back her remains.”

Mary gulped and took the Doctor’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“She wasn’t the only person I lost back then. I never really got to know her. We were too busy running from the Daleks.” He shook his head. “Never enough time to just simply stop and rest. Stop and get to know people and have fun.”

She smiled sadly at him. “Is that why you’re keeping me around? To get to know me?”

“I don’t know, Mary.” He closed his eyes. “I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years. I always try and convince them that life with me can be fun, but it’s also dangerous.”

“Well I’m still here, you know? I may be wanting to get back home, but I’m still here.”

He wasn’t really listening to her. He was lost in his memories. “Sometimes - not very often - but sometimes, somebody dies. Somebody like Sara. It was Sara and Katarina’s death’s that changed me. It made me realise that you couldn’t keep being reckless without there being consequences. It aged me, Mary. It broke my hearts.”

Mary squeezed his hand tighter. “Sara would want you to have fun, though.”

“Actually, she’d have probably pointed a gun at me and told me to get out of the way so she can blow up a few Daleks.” He allowed himself a slight chuckle. “And now we know why the TARDIS brought us - brought me - here.”

“To remind you?”

“To remind me of life. To remind me that, amongst all the running and dashing around, to take some time out occasionally. You never know what you might lose.”

“Sometimes I think that blue box takes you were you need to go rather than where you want to go.”

“She definitely has a way of hitting me where I need it the most, Miss Auckland.”

The Doctor kissed his fingers and then gently pressed them against the cold gravestone. He took another few moments to stand there in silence, and then turned to Mary.

“Fun,” he smiled.

“Fun,” she said, smiling back at him.

“Miss Auckland, will you Please Please Me?”

“I beg your pardon!” said Mary, a little taken aback.

The Doctor looked a little flustered. “I mean…it’s been A Hard Days Night.”

She frowned a little more.

“Would you like to go and watch the Beatles with me?” he said with a grin.

“I suppose getting back home can wait a little while longer,” she said. “Yes, Doctor, I’d be happy to.”



And they walked back to the TARDIS, arm in arm, whilst somewhere in another land, beyond life, Sara Kingdom battled with Daleks, Mechanoids, living her life after death…and loving every minute of it.



And back in July 1949 a man, who looked just like the Doctor, was being helped into the house belonging to Mrs Patricia Auckland.

And he looked up at the windows on the top floor of the house and watched as white curtains gently billowed in the summer breeze.



The End

Next time....a brief interlude as we check in on the Dalek Invasion of Earth...

Hell, Part Four

PART FOUR: THE BROKEN WORLD

Back at the bank Garon, Zeela, Cobalt and Mary were just processing the realisation that the bodies in the bank weren’t real.

“I don’t understand,” said Zeela. “Why would they go to the trouble of putting fake bodies here?”

“You’re right, Zeela,” said Garon, sitting himself down on his old chair that had been covered in dust, “it makes no sense.”

“These people were here. They were killed.”

“Were they?” said Mary.

“What do you mean?” asked Zeela.

“Well what exactly do you remember?” asked Mary. “You told me the story, but are you sure that’s what happened?”

“Yes,” said Zeela, looking a little puzzled with Mary’s question. “The Rathtokians attacked and we escaped to the vault.”

“And, strangely, when you come back up after seven months there are fake bodies lying around and no clean-up operation.”

“Maybe the entire planet has been devastated,” said Garon, shrugging his shoulders.

“That still doesn’t explain the fake bodies,” said Mary.

Cobalt, who had been keeping quiet with her arms folded, walked over to them. “Mary is right. There is something that we are missing here.” She closed her eyes. “We were here though. That much is certain.”

“Were you?” came the Doctors voice from the doorway.

The group looked up as he strode in, Bren marching behind him holding a gun to the back of his head.

“Bren, what on Hallean - ” said Zeela.

“Be quiet, creature,” said Bren.

“Oh, no,” said Cobalt, shaking her head. “How could I have been so stupid…?”

“What happened to his beard and hair?” asked Mary, getting up.

“Stay put and do not move!” growled Bren.

“This, my dear friends, is not Bren. This gentleman’s real name is Oberen.”

Cobalt shook her head. “That’s a common Rathtok name.”

“And the baldhead…” trailed off Mary.

“He’s Rathtokian, isn’t he?” said Zeela. “He’s a Rathtokian spy.”

Oberen’s lips twisted into a smile. “Oh, you people have such little understanding on what is going on here.”

“The flash…” said the Doctor, trailing off and looking into the distance.

“I beg your pardon?” said Zeela. “The flash?”

“That’s right,” said Mary, twigging on to what the Doctor was saying. “You said there was a flash and then you all woke up in here.”

“Yeah,” said Garon. “The flash of the bomb blast. We were unconscious for only a few minutes after the initial attack.”

“I think that flash was something else entirely,” said the Doctor.

Suddenly a booming voice filled the room causing the survivors to look all around them and Oberen to frown.

“This is Watch Commander. Operator Oberen, time to bring them in.”

“But sir…”

“The experiment has failed. Bring them in.”

Oberen sighed and then looked at the Doctor. “You are all under arrest.”

“Listen to me,” said Garon, edging closer to the bald man, “I don’t know who you think you are-”

“I am Operator Oberen of the Rathtokian Special Watch.”

“Oh, goodness me,” said Cobalt. “We need to get out of here now.”

“What? Who are they?” asked Mary.

Oberen was about to raise his gun when Cobalt, moving like lightning, threw a punch towards the man. With one strike to his chin Oberen fell back, the back of his head striking a partially crumbled marble pillar, knocking him out cold.

“There’s no time to explain now,” said Cobalt. She grabbed Mary’s hand. “We all need to stay together. Doctor, are you any closer to finding your craft?”

“There were faint signals a few streets away.”

“Then we need to follow that signal now.”

“Wait a minute,” said Garon, “what the hell is going on here?”

“Isn’t obvious, Mr Tor?” said the Doctor, as they began making their way towards the exit of the bank. “None of this is real. This is all some experiment.”

“And if the Watch are involved, then we are very much in serious danger,” said Cobalt.



The Doctor had led them through various rubble-strewn streets and avenues, all the time checking the readings on his sonic screwdriver. Eventually they reached the edge of a road and beyond there was a darkened park. There was a high-pitched sound coming from the screwdriver.

“I don’t understand,” said the Doctor, “the TARDIS should be right in front of us.”

Cobalt frowned and placed her hands, palms-out, in front of her. Zeela nearly laughed – she looked like one of the street mimes she had seen in the city centre every weekend. It was as if her hands were pressing against an invisible barrier.

“This is as far as we can go,” said Cobalt.

“Listen,” said Garon, becoming angrier and angrier, “I need you to explain to us exactly what’s going on here.”

“It’s a bubble isn’t it?” said the Doctor. “We’re in a bubble.”

Cobalt sighed and sat on the edge of the road. “The Rathtokian Special Watch is a intelligence operative group on my home planet. They run scenarios and situations and test subjects to see how they respond and react. They operate entirely separately from the government.”

“That still doesn’t explain what’s happened to us,” said Zeela. “We were attacked in the bank. What about the fake bodies?”

“The flash you experienced. Everything happened after the flash, didn’t it?” asked the Doctor.

“That’s right,” said Zeela, realisation beginning to dawn on her.

“It’s how they operate,” said Cobalt, coldly. “The flash wasn’t an attack at all. The flash was you, Garon, Mrs Yaltos, Bren and myself being teleported from the bank to this place.”

“An exact copy of the bank and the area around it,” said the Doctor.

“A testing arena,” said Cobalt.

“Very clever deductions,” said Oberen as he emerged from the darkness, covering them with a gun.

“And you? What was your story in all this?” asked Garon, trying his best not to explode at the man who had assumed was just a stupid, homeless old fool.

“This is Watch Commander,” came the booming voice again. “Prepare to shut down simulation.”

There was a flash and the park beyond the barrier blurred and shimmered. There was another flash and everything went dark. They were now standing in a huge, dark dome adorned with deep blue lights. Where the park had stood was the Doctor’s TARDIS and beyond that a door.

The door slid open and three bald-headed Rathtokians wearing white tunics emerged followed by a bald-headed woman in a black tunic and white cape.

“I’m sorry,” said Oberen.

The woman walked up to Oberen and shook her head. “Well, it worked for a while at least.”

“Who are you?” asked Zeela.

“Watch Commander Vira.” She eyed up Zeela, Garon and then turned to the Doctor and Mary. “You two are not from Hallean or Rathok. How did your craft get into our arena?”

The Doctor glanced over to his TARDIS. “It’s a ship capable of dematerialising in one place and materialising in another.” He raised his eyebrows. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Everything on our planet is our business.”

“Except things that don’t come from your planet,” said the Doctor. “What on Earth have you done to these poor people?”

“I can see you’re a learned man,” said Vira. “Come with me.”

“We will all come with you,” said the Doctor.

Vira looked back at the group of tired, dishevelled people. “Very well. You were all part of the experiment after all.”



Vira led the group through the door and into a large control room. The Doctor commented that it looked a lot like NASA’s Mission Control, with rows of desks and banks of computer monitors, but it was lost on everyone. Even Mary. It was after her time.

Vira stood at the front of the control room and dismissed all the white-tunic operatives. When the room was clear she indicated for them to sit down.

“Please be aware that we bare you no ill-will.”

“No ill-will?!” gasped Zeela. “You’ve had us locked in a tunnel for seven months. Mrs Yaltos died because of your experiment.”

“And for that I apologise,” said Vira, “but it is all in the name of progress for our two planets.”

“Explain yourself,” said the Doctor, folding his arms.

“The tensions between our two peoples have been building for many generations. It was our intention to run an experiment to see what would happen if we did attack and how resilient you would be.”

Vira turned to a large monitor dominating the front wall. It showed Mrs Yaltos’s body lying in the middle of the large dome.

“Operator Oberen was installed to watch you all closely, impersonating a Hallean vagrant.”

“But how did you teleport us out of our own bank?” asked Zeela, shaking her head.

“Oberen was the catalyst. He was able to remotely activate the transport system. The flash, as you have already surmised, was you being teleported.”

“You created an exact holographic replication of the bank and surrounding areas,” said the Doctor. “Fascinating.”

“That explains why the escape tunnel didn’t lead to the countryside,” Cobalt said glumly.

“And the synthetic bodies,” said the Doctor.

“To be fair we didn’t expect you to be in the tunnels for so long,” said Vira. “We expected you to find a way out long before you’d realise the bodies weren’t real.”

“I guess we are all just stupid then,” said Garon. He then barred his teeth and got up from his chair. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Sit down, Mr Tor,” said Oberen.

“Actually,” said Garon, rounding on Oberen, “I’ll kill you first.”

“You’ll kill nobody,” said the Doctor. He turned to Vira. “But you will be brought to justice.”

“But you’re all free to go,” said Vira. “This was merely an experiment.”

“An experiment that has scarred these people for life,” said the Doctor. “And also resulted in the death of an innocent woman.”

“And what’s it all for?” asked Mary.

“To ascertain whether we should invade your planet or not.” Vira spoke so matter-of-factly that she almost seemed surprised that there would be any other reason for it.

“And what has the Watch decided to do?” asked Cobalt. “Please bare in mind that there are a number of our own people on the planet.”

“You were all useless,” said Vira. “I will recommend to the government that we invade.”

“You’re insane,” said Garon.

“Not insane,” said the Doctor. “Just cold and calculated.”

“Vira, 67% of our people watch us to find peace with the Halleans.”

“Then 67% are wrong, young woman.”

“Doctor, there has to be some way to help them,” said Mary. “To stop this.”

The Doctor was now the one to get up out of his seat. “Listen to me, Madame,” he said, stepping a little forward. “I believe this animosity between your two races is all because of a single moon. Is that correct?”

“That may be the catalyst, but - ”

“But is that a reason to go to war?”

“This would not be a war, merely an occupation. We need that moon to power our cities.”

“And currently,” said the Doctor, “the Halleans have control of it, yes?”

“That is correct.”

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck and then turned to Zeela, Cobalt and Garon. “You have to find some way to work together. You have to.”

“How can we after this?” said Garon. “They kidnapped us. Tested us.”

“But this isn’t the Rathtokian government talking,” said Mary. “This is a separate group. They don’t speak for all of you.”

“Exactly. And the important part of this is your 67%.”

“The wrong ones.”

The Doctor turned around furiously to the Watch Commander. “You do not speak for those people. You speak for none of them, do you hear me?”

“They need the moon and we need the moon, Doctor,” said Zeela. “How do we reconcile? It’s not a never-ending supply, you know.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes and then smiled to himself. “No. It’s not a never-ending supply. So what do you intend on doing once that supply has gone?”

Zeela looked to Garon and then they all looked to Vira.

“We shall cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“So,” said the Doctor, “you’re willing to invade, kill and occupy an entire species just for a short-term plan at getting your hands on these crystals?”

Vira didn’t respond.

“Madame, am I on the understanding that my friend and I can leave whenever we want?”

“Of course,” said Vira. “You are not a part of this conflict.”

“Thank you,” said the Doctor. He grabbed Mary’s hand. “Come on, Miss Auckland.”

“Wait, where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

Cobalt, Garon, Zeela, Oberen and Vira looked on in bafflement as the Doctor and Mary marched back towards the arena and the waiting TARDIS.



The TARDIS had materialised in a huge, glowing, crystal cavern. When Mary stepped outside she looked around her in awe. It was like being stood inside a giant crystal, the walls glittering and shining and casting rainbows all across the floors.

“I thought you couldn’t control the TARDIS,” said Mary.

“It seems that the little hops across space aren’t the issue. It’s when we actually enter the space/time vortex when the ‘uncontrollable’ aspect begins.”

“So this is the centre of the moon?”

“That’s correct,” said the Doctor. “And in a few generations the whole moon will be mined. The moon will be a dead, hollowed out husk and that is much more dangerous to the planet then them not having Sipher crystals.”

“And you’re sure this is the only way?”

“The one thing, other than hatred, that’s causing this conflict is these damned crystals. So if they no longer have any crystals…”

“There shouldn’t be a conflict. At least not one involving this.”

“Bingo, Miss Auckland.”

The Doctor ducked back into the TARDIS and pulled out a cylindrical device. It was made of glass and contained a dark red liquid. “It’s called VX-251-C. It’s essentially a poison. It was used by the Sontarans to cripple enemy spaceships. What it should do is poison the crystals and make them inert. They wont be able to mine them anymore.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mary peered down at the liquid. “I mean, what are they going to do to power their cities without the crystals?”

“Mary,” he said, crouching down and placing the cylinder on a pile of the crystals, “your planet has had to think fast when looking for new power alternatives. Hydro-power, solar-power, wind-power. I can help both races, but they will just have to find another way.”

“And I suppose, like you say, the moon will die in a few generations if they hollow it out.”

“Causing untold damage to both planets.” He sighed as he opened the cap on the top of the cylinder. “This is the only way.”

Slowly he poured the liquid out of the glass tube. It trickled over the glowing crystals and after a few moments steam began to rise from the liquid.

And slowly the crystals began to go dark…



Vira stood looking at the readouts on the huge view screen, a look of horror on her face. “What gave you the right to interfere with our planet?”

“What gave you the right to interfere with the Halleans?” said the Doctor.

She turned to face him. “You’ve sentenced us all to certain doom.”

“No,” said the Doctor. “I’ve given you all a chance at living your lives. I can give you some tips towards finding a new energy source. And you will all be fine.”

“But you have to stay and help us,” said Zeela.

“I can’t interfere in your planet’s development. I can only give you a little push.”

Garon shook his head. “But how do we move past all of this?”

He looked between Garon and Cobalt and smiled. “You two are the future.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Cobalt, her hands on her hips.

“You’re the future. You represent the ones who want to progress.”

“But they argue like an old married couple,” said Zeela.

“Exactly. And that’s what you need. Because despite the arguments and the disagreements, you both worked with each other at that bank for years and you survived the worst part of your lives for seven months in that tunnel. If you can survive that then your two races can survive anything.”

“And we can get you back to Hallean,” said Mary.

“I’m sorry but the Watch are not finished with you yet,” said Vira.

“Watch Commander, please look me up. I’ll in the Universal Databank under Doctor. Once you’ve looked that up then please have another think about trying to stop my friends from leaving.”

“Should I stop them, sir?” asked Oberen.

Vira didn’t know what to say. The Doctor smiled at her sadly as he indicated for the group to head back towards the arena and the TARDIS.

“Well?” said Cobalt, as they approached the TARDIS.

“We can give it a shot,” said Garon.

Cobalt extended a hand and Garon took it.

“The first handshake of many handshakes,” smiled the Doctor.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” asked Mary, as the three co-workers entered the TARDIS.

“I think they’ll be okay,” said the Doctor. He took one last look at the arena and shook his head. “They have to be. For both races sake.”



The End

Next time....The TARDIS takes the Doctor and Mary to a cemetery in the far future...

Hell, Part Three

PART 3: CITY OF DESOLATION



There was a satisfying click and then came the sound of scraping as the handle underneath the circular hatch was turned. Finally, with one final turn, the hatch lifted up, the Doctor’s head emerging from the hole leading into the tunnels.

“Unbelievable,” said Garon, below him. “We’ve spent months down here with no way of escape and then he turns up with a screwdriver.”

“Sonic screwdriver,” said the Doctor, smiling and looking around him.

“Can you see anything?” asked Mary.

The vault was in darkness but the main door was wide open. Nothing had been taken and the only light was coming from the random flickering green emergency lights that dotted the low-hanging ceiling.

“It all looks quiet,” said the Doctor as he hauled himself out of the hole.

A few seconds later Mary emerged, squinting her eyes to make out anything in the darkness. Zeela, Bren, Cobalt and finally Garon followed.

“Are you sure this is safe?” asked Garon.

“I doubt it. Is any war zone safe?” asked the Doctor.

“He’s got a point,” said Bren, nodding to the Doctor.

“I’d rather be out of that hole than in it, Garon,” said Zeela, straightening herself up and feeling her limbs crack. It felt like ages since she’d stretched herself out.

“I suggest you all wait here,” said Cobalt, grabbing he blaster that was still holstered to her belt, “whilst I check that the coast is clear.”

“Not a chance,” said the Doctor.

“Please, I am expendable,” said Cobalt.

“More like guilty,” said Garon, rolling his neck and shoulders.

“Nobody is expendable, Mr Garon,” said the Doctor, rounding on him.

“It’s Mr Tor, actually,” he said. “Garon Tor.”

“Maybe we should all go together,” said Mary, keeping close to the Doctor.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” said the Doctor.



With Cobalt leading the way, the six of them made their way out of the vault and into the corridor beyond. The green emergency lights continued to flicker but still there was no sound. Eventually they reached the doorway that led out of the corridors and into the main banking area.

Zeela gasped when they emerged into the huge hall. It was night and the two moons bathed the room in a silvery-white light. The chequered tiles were cracked or broken and marble pillars lay shattered across the floor. Strew all around were bodies of customers and workers.

“Good gods,” said Garon, casting his eyes to the floor.

“They just shot them where they stood,” said Zeela.

“Brutes,” said Bren, his eyes fixed on the doorways that had been flung open allowing the nighttime air and cold to flow in.

The Doctor glanced across to Bren and narrowed his eyes at him.

“Is there anybody alive?” asked Mary, finding herself less terrified than she thought she would have been considering she had never seen a dead body before.

“Not after so long,” said Cobalt. “It’s been seven months.”

“Look at what your people have done to ours,” said Garon.

“Not my people,” said Cobalt, turning on him. “The government. The government do not represent the wishes of everyone.”

“Listen,” said the Doctor, glancing around, “I think we should split up. Take a look around. It all looks quiet now, but you said you still heard explosions outside?”

“That’s right,” said Zeela.

“Then I suggest we split into three parties. Bren and myself will go outside and see if my TARDIS is anywhere to be seen. Mary, can you stay with Zeela?”

Mary looked at Zeela and nodded.

“I suppose that means I’m lumbered with her,” said Garon, nodding towards an extremely frustrated-looking Cobalt.

“You two need to learn to get along. You two can get Mrs Yaltos’s body out of the tunnel.”

“Joy,” said Garon.

“And what about us?” asked Mary.

“Try and get the computer systems working. We need to try and see if there are any safe areas left on the planet.”

Zeela nodded. “Do you think we’re safe in here?” asked Zeela.

“I don’t know,” said the Doctor, narrowing his eyes again and looking all around him. “Something isn’t adding up here. I feel like I’m missing something.” He looked at Bren and then clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Bren, let’s go TARDIS hunting.”





A little while later and Cobalt and Garon were in the tunnel again. They had uncovered Mrs. Yaltos’s partially decomposed body from underneath the small pile of burial rocks and were carrying her as best as they could between them. It was proving extremely difficult being on their hands and knees though and they found themselves dragging her for the most part.

“Be careful!” snapped Garon. “We don’t want bits of her dropping off.”

Cobalt frowned and then cleared her throat. “Why do you hate my people so much?”

Garon laughed and shook his head. “I don’t hate your people.”

“Then why do you hate me?”

“I don’t…I don’t hate you, Cobalt.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“Are you bothered?”

“I’d like to think that everyone could try and get on.”

“Tell that to your government.”

Cobalt stopped causing Garon to continue pulling the old ladies body by his self. “Hey.”

“You do realise, Mr Tor, that it’s not just my government, don’t you?” She looked genuinely annoyed with him.

Garon looked back at her. “But your lot are the ones that flew in here and attacked us.”

Cobalt continued to stare at him, her white eyes not even blinking. “You cannot tarnish us all with the same brush.”

“Did your people – your army – discriminate when they attacked my people? No. Did they make sure they only hit military targets and not hurt innocent civilians? No.”

“I’m sorry,” said Cobalt. “But the government is comprised of twelve leaders. Twelve people do not represent an entire planets viewpoint. In the latest polls 67% of my people wanted for the both of our races to unite and - ”

“Spare me the facts and figures, Cobalt,” said Garon.

“What I am trying to say is that we may not get along, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to. If 67% of us can dream to make things better then maybe you should try to get along with me.”

Garon didn’t know what to say. He knew she was speaking the truth. The two races had never really gotten on, but most of that was down to propaganda from the governments of each world. It was all down to one solitary moon. The moon contained Sipher crystals that could be mined and utilised to power hundreds of homes. The two planets had both tried to claim it for their own but neither of them had ever managed to take total control.

“Cobalt, life isn’t always fair and sometimes we don’t get along.”

“Then you and I have to be the ones to change that.”

Garon didn’t respond as they continued dragging Mrs Yaltos towards the exit.





Mary and Zeela were sat beside the still-open doors, soaking in the cool night air. For Zeela it felt like bliss. After being stuck in a stifling tunnel for all of those months surrounded by three other people and a decomposing body it felt wonderful to finally get out.

Mary was sat with her back against the doorframe, staring out. The street beyond was strewn with rubble from the surrounding buildings and more dead bodies lay stretched out as far as the eye could see.

Mary’s eyes remained transfixed on the site in front of her.

“Are you okay?” asked Zeela.

Mary shook her head. “It just…it just reminds me of the war.”

“The war?” Zeela frowned.

“Our war. The one from my planet.” She shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold – it was from the memories. “I never witnessed anything myself, but I saw the film reels. I read the letters from my father and brother. What they must have seen…”

“They went into battle?” asked Zeela.

Mary finally turned to the redhead and smiled sadly. “They were stationed in a big city on my planet.” It still felt odd to Mary that she was talking about herself being from another planet. “The city was heavily bombed and so many people died.” She looked back across the street. “I’m sure they were brave, but I’d hardly call it a battle.”

“A little like this,” said Zeela, nodding at the dead bodies around the street. “These people didn’t go into battle. They were just doing every day, ordinary things when they were gunned down.”

“It’s all so pointless, isn’t it? All this death and destruction. And for what?”

“For what exactly,” said Zeela, narrowing her eyes. “I mean why kill all of these people and not even bother to do anything else.”

“How do you mean?” asked Mary.

“Well were are the Rathtokians? Why haven’t they followed up after their attack?”

Mary nodded. Something definitely wasn’t right.

Before the two women could continue their discussion they were distracted by Garon and Cobalt entering back into the main banking area carrying Mrs Yaltos’s body between them. Garon finally laid her arms down and Cobalt followed suit.

“She was a big lady,” said Garon.

“Be free, Mrs Yaltos,” said Cobalt, looking down at the old lady.

Zeela and Mary walked over, Mary turning away quickly when she saw the partially decomposed body of the old lady.

“Strangely I got used to that smell,” said Garon.

“That’s it,” said Zeela, as if something had just flashed across her mind. “The smell.”

“Beg your pardon?” said Garon.

“The smell, Garon, the smell.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty atrocious, but, you know, it happens to us all when we die.”
”Exactly,” said Zeela. “It happens to us all.”

Mary frowned and then realisation dawned on her. “Wait a minute…”

“Your are right,” said Cobalt, “it does happen to us all.”

Garon sighed, rolled his shirtsleeves up and then sat down on a lump of masonry. “What on Hallean are you three talking about.”

“Think, Garon, think,” said Zeela.

And then it dawned on Garon as well. “Oh my word!”





The Doctor and Bren had made good progress. They had turned off the main road and onto Mintokal Avenue, a once tree-lined avenue with beautiful, grand black and white houses. Now it was rubble-strewn, the leaves on the trees all burnt and the white paint of the houses blackened.

“This used to be a lovely street. Always wanted to live down here,” sniffed Bren.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself, Bren,” said the Doctor, as he consulted the readings on his sonic screwdriver. There was a definite reading out there somewhere, but it was very faint. Wherever his TARDIS was it was being shielded.

“Not much to tell really, matey,” he said. “Dad was a drunk, mother was a prostitute. Ran away from home – little town called Kreel. Lived on the streets since.”

“And you never tried to get yourself back on your feet?”

“Oh, always, sir,” said the Doctor, “but there was always some high-up fella or woman in me path. Always someone trying to put me down further than I had already gone.”

“That’s a shame,” said the Doctor. He shook the sonic, frowned and then pocketed it into his jacket pocket. “I am definitely missing something here, Bren.” He closed his eyes and balled up his fists pressing them against his temples. “It’s this new regeneration.” He opened his eyes and looked down at Bren who was looking a little bemused. “It’s like a new pair of shoes. They fit and you can walk in them but they’re not yet entirely comfortable. They aren’t quite in sync with your feet.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” he said.

The Doctor’s eyes flicked down to the floor where the body of a pretty, blonde woman was lying, her blank eyes staring up to the heavens.

The Doctor broke into a grin and looked back to Bren, clicking his fingers. “And sometimes the very thing you’re missing just slots right into place.”

He dropped to the woman and touched her cheek. She was pale and cold – lifeless. And also still intact.

“We really should try and get out of here, sir,” said Bren, looking around nervously.

“Why?” said the Doctor. He grabbed the woman’s cheeks and pulled. “I knew it. I knew there was something not right here.”

“Well can you explain to me then, sir?” said Bren.

The bodies. Take a look at the bodies, Bren. They’re strewn around. All over the street and the bank. Everywhere.

“Yeah, it’s horrible. Someone should really help put them to rest.”

“It’s not just that, although the fact that no one has come to clear up the area is strange in itself.”

He got to his feet and turned on the spot. “You said you were in those tunnels for seven months, yes?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“Then why haven’t any of these bodies decomposed.”

Bren simply looked at the Doctor. He didn’t respond, he just frowned.

“None of these bodies have decomposed, and do you know why?”

Again, Bren didn’t respond.

The Doctor smiled. “It’s because none of them are real. These aren’t real people.” He knelt down and tugged at the woman’s cheek again. “It’s good stuff, but entirely synthetic.”

Bren sighed and then looked at the Doctor with sad eyes. “Oh, you’ve figured it out then.”

The Doctor cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve figured it out that not everything is as straightforward as you think.” Bren had suddenly lost his crude way of talking and had a more polished, well-rounded voice.

“Are you feeling quite alright, dear chap?” asked the Doctor.

Bren tilted his head back, grabbed at his beard and pulled. It fell away leaving a smooth chin-line. He then grabbed his hair and tugged. Now he was completely bald.

He went into his dirty old coat and pulled out what looked like some form of blaster.

“Bren…” said the Doctor, backing away slightly. Bren’s eyes narrowed. “You can call me Oberen,” he said, aiming the gun at the Doctor. “And my leaders are not going to be very pleased that you interfered with their little experiment.”

To be concluded...

Hell, Part Two

PART 2: BASE UNDER SIEGE



“I still don’t get it,” said Garon. “How could your ship just materialise in these caves and then disappear?”

The Doctor, who was sat with his knees drawn up to his chin shrugged. “She really didn’t want to be here.”

“Nobody wants to be here, fella,” said Bren.

“Spaceships don’t have minds of their own,” said Garon. “How do we know we can trust you?”

“I see a spaceship once,” said Bren, picking at a small, shiny pebble on the ground, “that flew itself. It didn’t have a crew or nothing. Just passengers.”

“You, my dear Bren, are not the most reliable source of information,” said Garon.

“Seen more of the world than you have, pretty boy.”

“Okay, okay,” said Zeela, looking between Garon and Bren, “now is not the time for another one of your sparring competitions.”

“Agreed,” said Cobalt. “We must look at the facts.”

“Which are?” said Garon.

“That these two people are here. They appeared in the tunnel, which we know is inescapable, and are now trapped down here with us.”

“Finally,” said Mary. “Do you always get these sort of questions, Doctor?”

“Always,” said the Doctor, solemnly. “I’m a traveller,” he said, turning to the others, “but I don’t quite know what planet we’re on.”

“How can you travel to a planet and not know where you’re going?” asked Garon.

“If I ever get my ship back then maybe you can find out for yourself.”

Mary looked to each of them. “You can trust him, believe me,” she said. “I met him only a little while ago, but he’s a nice man.”

“And what about you?” asked Zeela. “You seem to be…oddly dressed.”

Mary looked down at her strange get-up. She still didn’t feel comfortable in these sorts of clothes. “My name’s Mary and I’m from Earth.”

“Oh, god,” said Garon, rolling his eyes, “I thought I recognised the swagger.”

“Swagger?” said Mary, looking confused. “Sir, I don’t believe I have a…well, swagger.”

“What century is this?” asked the Doctor.

“What?!” spat Garon.

“Are you serious?” asked Zeela. “I can kind of accept that you didn’t know what planet you were on, but the century?”

Cobalt looked up from her collection of data pads that she had been reading. “It’s 2955 and you’re on the planet Hallean.”

“Hallean…” mused the Doctor.

“Doctor, I still get what he means by swagger,” said Mary.

“It’s the 30th century, Miss Auckland,” said the Doctor. “The Earth Empire is all over the galaxy right now, colonising worlds and not always doing it with the best intentions.”

“You mean…” she thought for a moment. “You mean we won the war only to cause problems out in space.”

Zeela and Garon looked at each other, bemused.

“There are peaks and troughs throughout the history of Earth. This isn’t a particularly nice period of it.”

Mary frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she said to Garon.

Garon frowned back at her. “You are bizarre, girl.”

“The Earth Empire has stretched this far out,” said Zeela, “but thankfully our government hasn’t yet capitulated to any of their, shall we say, offers yet.”

“I don’t remember much about Hallean really,” said the Doctor. “A small little planet in the Fed’Sian system. It never got on with its neighbour planet, Rathtok.”

“Which is kind of why we’re down here,” said Zeela.

“Well I didn’t think you were all down here on your holidays,” said the Doctor. “I mean this is pretty grim.” His eyes rolled up to look at the blue-tinged stony ceiling.

“What happened to you all?” said Mary.

“We’ve been down here for seven months,” said Zeela.

“Seven months?!” exclaimed Mary. “Just the four of you?”

“There used to be five of us,” said Cobalt.

“Until old Mrs Yaltos passed away,” said Bren. He looked sad. “She was a lovely woman.”

“Yes,” said Garon. “Can you smell that stench?”

The Doctor and Mary sniffed and then both of them looked at each other with disgust.

“We buried her as far down the tunnel as possible,” said Zeela, sadly, “under a pile of rocks.”
”Have you tried to get out?”

“Are you an idiot?” asked Garon.

“Have you tried everything?” said the Doctor, sounding irritated with him.

“Well we haven’t spent seven months down here sat on our arses!”

“I don’t get it,” said Mary. “How’d you end up here anyway?”

Zeela looked up at the ceiling. “It’s a relatively short story.”





City Banking – the biggest banking company on Hallean. Zeela had been working there for a number of years. She had spent 18 months at its Volka branch before being promoted to Assistant Manager at the Borick branch. She’d enjoyed her time there. She enjoyed helping to run things and enjoyed interaction with the customers.

It was a sunny, mid-week morning when it happened. She had just returned from her dinner break and was finishing her coffee. The entrance to City Banking was through a huge, stone-arched doorway that led into a large hall, four stories high. The floor was polished black and white tiles and huge, ornate pillars rose from the floor to the ceiling with stone ivy carved into them. Behind the pillars were various different desks with bank clerks sat at each one. At the front of the hall was her desk and a doorway leading off to the vault and managers office.

She sighed, but it was a contented sigh. She enjoyed working here. She enjoyed the challenges that came with the job, and the pay wasn’t that bad either.

“For the last time, no!” she heard a familiar voice yell. She frowned and turned to the person it was coming from – Garon Tor.

He was sat at his desk whilst a scruffy looking man in a dirty mac with unkempt hair and grey beard stood hovering over him.

Zeela sighed and walked over to them. “Is there a problem, Garon?”

“No, Miss Vos,” said Garon, trying to hold back his frustration.

“Then why are you raising your voice at this gentleman?” she said, calmly. She knew exactly why he was yelling at the man. He had been in here every day this week.

“Mr Fasko has been told before that we simply cannot help him with a loan.”

Zeela looked at Bren Fasko who smiled his toothless grin at her, looking as sweet as any little old, scruffy man could.

“Mr Fasko is a customer, Mr Garon,” said Zeela.

“Yes, I know, but- ”

“But nothing, Mr Garon,” said Zeela, coolly. “Despite Mr Fasko’s financial situation, he should be treated as any other customer should be treated.”

“Thank you, Miss Vos,” said Garon, smiling again.

“However, Mr Fasko,” said Zeela, “you have been in here every day for the last two weeks. I’m afraid we are in no position to offer you a loan of…”

Garon flashed up the figure on his screen.

Zeela stifled a gasp. “Ten thousand yaraks.” She smiled at him again.

“It’s just to get me self set up,” said Bren. “You know how it is, Miss.”

“Unfortunately we don’t,” said Garon, looking smug again. “Although I do remember how difficult it was that one time my penthouse swimming pool lost it’s heating the other year.”

“Garon,” scolded Zeela, frowning at him. “That’s enough.”

“Zeela, I’d rather you not reprimand me in front of the general public.”

“Then don’t humiliate yourself,” said Zeela. She looked back at Bren, who had been watching back and forth between them. “Mr Fasko, can I suggest something?”
”Of course, darling.”

Zeela managed to stop her eyes rolling but continued to smile. “I understand that you’re living under one of the bridge arches on Lemon St, yes?”

“That’s right,” said Bren.

“There are homeless shelters out there that you can go to. They can help you.”

“You can help me,” said Bren.

Garon shook his head. “See, waste of time.”

“Is this gentleman bothering you, Sir? Madam?” asked a slightly emotionless voice from a few metres away.

Cobalt was a striking figure. Dressed in a grey one-piece suit with a high collar. She was bald with bright blue eyes and a very small camera attached to the side of her head. She was head of security at the bank and was part of a very small group of Rathtokians living on the planet. They were a cold and emotionless race, but Zeela had never had a problem with Cobalt.

“I can deal with this, Cobalt,” said Garon.

“Oooh, are you gonna escort me out, darling?” asked Bren. “You certainly have the muscles for it.”

Zeela noticed that Cobalt was now flexing her bare arms, but her face hadn’t changed.

“Mr Tor, what would you like me to do with the gentleman?”

“I don’t need you to do anything, Cobalt.”

“And what does that mean, Garon?” asked Zeela, folding her arms and looking down at her colleague.

“I simply mean-”

“He means he does not need a Rathtokian dealing with his problems,” said Cobalt, flatly.

“I didn’t mean that. I just-”

“Garon, I think you’ve said enough,” said Zeela.

Bren was looking between the three people with fascination in his eyes. There was almost a glee there. He hadn’t been this entertained for a long time and it was all of his doing.

“I shall repeat my question,” said Cobalt. “What would you like me to do with the gentleman?”

Before anyone else could speak there was a blinding white light and a piercing burst of white noise.

There was a scream from towards the front doors of the bank.

Soon the light began to fade and Zeela realised she was lying on the polished tiles of the floor. Her hearing was muffled, but she could hear the distant sounds of laser fire, explosions and screaming.

She managed to sit up. Her head felt woozy, but she steadied herself. Clambering to his feet was Bren, looking shaken at what had just happened but resolute. Garon was still sat in his chair, unconscious but stirring now and Cobalt was bent over, her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

Zeela’s eyes were drawn to outside the doors. She couldn’t see much because of the smoke, but she could see the occasional laser bolt illuminating the thick, grey smoke.

“It’s them. It’s the Rathtokians,” said Bren, fear in his voice.

“But…but the government said…it was on the news this morning…the deal…” Zeela shook her head in disbelief.

“It can’t be,” said Cobalt. Zeela was sure she heard her normally emotionless voice crack.

“Your bloody people, Cobalt. Your bloody people!” shouted Garon, getting up from his chair.

“We need to get outta her,” said Bren.

“We can’t go that way,” said Zeela, as a heavy-set man flew through the glass doors and landed inside the entrance with a deathly thud.

“This place must have a vault,” said Bren. “We can hide in there surely.”

“Yes,” said Zeela. “Yes we can hide until the security forces get us out.”

The woman in the red coat came running past them and Zeela grabbed her arm. “Mrs Yaltos, you can’t go out there.”

“I have to get away,” she sobbed.

“You have to come with us,” said Zeela.

The group made their way through the inner doors of the bank and down a long, wood-panelled corridor until they reached a huge, metal door with a large wheel handle.

Garon took out his bank access card and swiped it through a slot on a computer panel on the door and there was a clunk.

Cobalt grabbed the wheel and began to turn it. Soon the door was able to swing wide open. Cobalt ushered the others inside and turned one more time to see about half a dozen bald-headed Rathtokian’s enter the corridor, guns brandished.

Once they were all inside Cobalt pushed the door shut with a thud and turned the wheel to lock it into place.

“Oh, excellent,” said Bren, “the vault. You know they can still get in if they want to?”

“I know that,” said Cobalt.

The room was fairly spacious – about 50 feet in length and 30 in width – and was lined with small metal drawers each leading to some one’s worldly goods.

“Help me with this panel, Mr Tor,” said Cobalt, kneeling down in the centre of the metal-panelled floor and prising up one of the slabs. Underneath was another, far more ancient metal wheel.

“Where exactly is this going, Cobalt?” asked Zeela, frowning.

Cobalt started to twist the handle with Garon assisting as best he could. “It’s a place only the security officers know about.” The handle groaned some more. “In the event of a robbery – or in our case an attack – the most likely scenario is that people would flee to the vault. The vault may be secure but it’s not impenetrable. This tunnel underneath is not on any of the plans.”

“But surely any attackers would just see that we’d disappeared and find the tunnel anyway.”

“Except the tunnel leads under the city and out into the countryside.” Cobalt flashed what Zeela thought for a moment was a smile. “It’s not somewhere to hide. It’s an escape route.”

There was a satisfying click and the panel slowly eased itself open leading down to a dark and lonely looking pit.

“We’re going down there?” said Bren, peering into the darkness.

“It’s the only way,” said Cobalt.

There was another explosion followed by muffled screams somewhere nearby.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Garon. “After you, Mrs Yaltos.”

“Oh dear,” said the old woman as they began to clamber inside.



“So…” said Mary, replaying what the four of them had told her, “why can’t you just go outside? And I thought you said this tunnel led out into the countryside.”

“So we thought,” said Zeela. “Except it’s just solid rock 200 metres down that tunnel from where we are.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” said the Doctor. “Why build a tunnel that doesn’t go anywhere?”

“And that’s not the only thing,” said Zeela. “Nobody has come for us since. There were Rathtokian soliders coming after us when we got into the vault, but they never attempted to come down here.”

“There are still explosions up above though,” said Garon, looking towards the rocky ceiling.

“Maybe they’re just leaving us to die,” said Bren.

“That is not like my people,” said Cobalt. “They do not leave a job unfinished.”

“And you’ve tried to get the panel back into the vault open?” asked the Doctor.

“No,” said Garon, sarcastically, “we’ve just decided to leave it and starve to death down here.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at the frustrated man. “I had to ask. Can you show me the panel?”

“We can,” said Zeela, “but the power is out up above. There’s no way of getting it open.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor, his eyes twinkling and a smile playing across his lips, “I may have a way.”



On a small monitor somewhere in a darkened room a shadowy figure watched on in interest. The screen showed a black and white image of Cobalt, Bren, Garon, Zeela and the two newcomers crawling through the tunnel in search of the hatch.



The figure narrowed its white eyes and it lifted a microphone to its mouth. “This is Watch-4. Subjects are attempting to leave the tunnel. Repeat: subjects are attempting to leave the tunnels. All units stand by for the next stage.”





To be continued...

Hell, Part One

PART 1: THE TUNNELS



Garon Tor wasn’t exactly old, but neither was he a young man either. He had spent a decent enough time working at City Banking for the last twenty years. He’d gained enough qualifications to do any job he wanted in the city, but he had chosen to go into banking. He liked working with numbers more than he liked working with people. Something about facts and figures and equations made him feel more relaxed. People often annoyed him.

So right now, at this very moment stuck in a cramp, confined space with three other people, he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods. But in reality the three other people were the least of his problems.

There was a muffled boom from somewhere above him and a trickle of dust fell from the barely illuminated tunnel ceiling.

He finished washing his face in the puddle of water on the tunnel floor and then lay down on the floor, stretching his legs out as far as he could. He longed – no, he ached – to be able to stand up, but he knew that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon.

He took out his pen-torch and flashed it at the ceiling above him. He looked at the blue-tinged rock, hoping against all hope that it might somehow suddenly reveal a gap in the ceiling or at least a crack so he could see above ground again.

He laid there staring at the ceiling for a good few minutes until he was whisked back to reality.

“Garon?” came the female voice.

He tried to ignore it and tried to focus again on the ceiling. He almost felt like he could will a crack into the rock.

“Garon?” came the voice again.

Garon rolled his eyes and then rolled onto his side, craning his neck to peer into the darkness. A few metres away from him was a woman in her late twenties. She had straight red hair tied back into a ponytail. She was still pretty despite in the dirty, grey business suit that she was wearing.

“Zeela, can I not have five minutes to myself?”

“Five minutes lying on your back staring at rock isn’t going to get us out of this,” she said. Her yellow eyes had a look of frustration in them.

“We’ve been here for seven months, Zeela. What difference are five more minutes going to make?”

“It could make all the difference,” she said, clearly frustrated with him.

Garon closed his eyes. He liked Zeela. She could be bloody annoying at times, but she was generally a sweet woman. He’d never really paid her much attention at work, but now he was here with her…well, he had no choice really.

“Are you coming?” she said.

“Yes,” said Garon, opening his eyes and flashing her an angry look. He turned onto all fours and then began crawling down the tunnel. He followed Zeela for a few metres, not attempting to ignore her backside in front of him, until the tunnel turned to the left.

The light was better here and sitting further down the tunnel, cross-legged, was an old man with scruffy grey hair and a very untidy beard. Next to him was a bald-headed woman with piercing white eyes. She had a ridge running all the way from the top of her head down to her nose.

“Morning Cobalt,” said Garon to the bald-headed woman who nodded curtly to him.

“Morning to you, Mr Tor,” said the old man, his purple eyes twinkling in the light from the lamp.

“Good morning Bren,” said Garon, still not quite coming to terms with being in this scruffy gentleman’s company.

There was another loud boom from up above.

“Can I presume that Zeela’s impatience means that you’ve found us a way out, Cobalt?”

“I have not,” said Cobalt, shaking her head. Her voice betrayed no emotion.

“Then why the hell have you dragged me down here?” said Garon. “I was perfectly happy trying to think my way out of these blasted tunnels.”

“Miss Cobalt does have some news, don’t you, love?”

Cobalt looked at Bren and then back to Garon. “I do.” She opened up a silver carry case. “I’m afraid we are nearly out of water.”

“What?” said Garon, looking down at the remaining water pouches sat in the silver case. “I thought we had plenty.”

“We did,” said Zeela, “but it seems that Cobalt, here, wasn’t exactly telling the truth.”

Garon looked at Cobalt.

“Before you begin you’re inevitable tirade of abuse towards me, Mr. Tor, I must warn you that I acted in our best interests.”

“By lying about the amount of water we had left?”

“I’m as shocked as you are, Garon,” said Zeela, “but I understand why she did it.”

“The woman was trying to keep us alive,” said Bren, giving a sideways smile to the cool-looking woman.

“If I’d have told you we only had enough supplies for seven months you would have panicked.”

“But at least I’d have known how long I had left!” said Garon. He got off his hands and knees and sat crossed-legged. “And now we’re all going to die.”

“Don’t lose hope, chief,” said Bren,

Garon glowered at the old man. “We’ve been stuck in these bloody tunnels for seven months. We can’t stand up. We can’t get out. All this whilst a bloody war rages above our heads. So tell me, all of you, how the hell are we going to get out of this?”





Mary looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. She didn’t feel comfortable in this at all, but she didn’t have much choice. In fact the Doctor had been quite apologetic. Not long after they had dropped the Tomlinson family off on a far away planet the Doctor had disappeared into the inner rooms of his time machine and returned with a box containing some of the strangest clothes she had seen.

“I’m afraid my ship hasn’t quite finished rebuilding herself yet. The TARDIS wardrobe and all her garments are slowly reappearing from the dimensional pockets they were sucked into.”

She had lost him after ‘dimensional pockets’. Anyway, the gist of what he was saying was that these were the only clothes he could find her.

As her other clothes were more or less ruined from her experience in Kettleworth Woods and all the climbing should had done on the crystal station she didn’t have much choice. She was standing in a blue blouse, blue top with rainbow stripes across the chest and a pair of what the Doctor had told her were called tracksuit bottoms. All this was topped off with a pair of leather boots. She had refused the blue bobble hat he had handed her.

There was a knock on the door. “Can I come in, Miss Auckland.”

“Be my guest,” she said, frowning at her reflection.

The Doctor stepped in, looked at her and tutted.

“And this is absolutely all you have?”

“Not exactly the clothes for a 1940’s girl, but they’ll have to do I’m afraid.” He looked around the room. “This is your room as well. Used to belong to my friend, Holly. Although it’s changed somewhat since then.” He looked wistful at the memory.

“My room?” said Mary. “Doctor, I don’t intend on staying for long.” She had been quite clear that, whilst she was intrigued to know more about him and his adventures, she wasn’t going to go gallivanting around time and space with him.

“I know, I know,” he said, holding up his hands, “but I’m afraid the TARDIS isn’t responding to me at the moment. We may be stuck trying to get you home for some time.”

“I have a job and a life to get back to,” she said.

“And this is a time machine. Once I can get her back under my control I’ll be able to get you back the day you left. Nobody will be any the wiser.”

Mary sighed and then looked at her reflection. “Oh, if mother could see me now.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, clapping her on the back, “and before you know it the wardrobe will be back and you’ll have something else to choose.”



They made their way back to the control room. She still hadn’t gotten over the fact that everything inside was crammed into that small, blue box she had stepped into. It didn’t even feel like what she thought I spaceship should feel like. She’d seen the comics and it didn’t look anything like this. It was all huge screens and big chairs. This felt more like the inside of a building rather than a spaceship.

She stepped over to the console and ran her fingers across the various dials, careful not to press any of the switches.

The Doctor walked around to the other side and continued to play with some of the switches.

“Who’s Holly anyway?” she asked, remembering that she’d been stood in someone else’s bedroom.

“Just a friend. Long gone now,” he said, sadly.

The thought of someone else being on this craft reminded her of their other companion. “How’s Kyla?”

“Still sedated,” said the Doctor.

“Shouldn’t we try and get her home?” asked Mary.

The Doctor looked at Mary, but before he could respond the sound of the engines filled the room. The TARDIS was landing.

“Ah, maybe I can finally make some calculations,” said the Doctor, pulling a notepad out from his inner pocket.

The TARDIS began to vibrate. At first it was gentle, but it started to get more and more violent. The engines thudded, signalling the ship had landed, but the box continued to vibrate.

“Doctor, what on Earth is that?” said Mary, starting to feel quite sick.

“I don’t know.” He flicked a switch and the small television monitor above the inner door flicked on, but it showed nothing but darkness.

“Can we at least get out of here,” said Mary. “Before I throw up?!”

“Yes, yes,” said the Doctor, activating the door controls.

The great double doors swung open, but instead of a landscape outside it was a solid wall of blue rock with a hole in the middle big enough for someone to crawl into.

“Okay, that’s not strange at all,” said Mary, walking over to the hole.

“Fascinating!” said the Doctor, joining her. “I think we’ve landed inside something.”

The TARDIS shook even more.

Mary started climbing into the hole. “I feel sick, Doctor. We need to leave.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Doctor, “but let’s be careful.”

The two of them clambered out of the TARDIS control room and into the blue, rocky tunnel. They turned back to look at the TARDIS but it seemed to disappear into the rock with only the small opening showing any sign of the machine. With a loud bang the doors of the TARDIS swung shut and the engines of the ship started up.

“No!” said the Doctor, quickly crawling back to the doors. He put his key in the lock, but with a violent shake the TARDIS quickly dematerialised.

“No…”

“What just happened?” asked Mary. The TARDIS was gone and the tunnel now stretched outwards where the TARDIS had once been.

“The TARDIS couldn’t cope with materialising within solid rock.” He felt around the tunnel but there was no evidence that anything had ever been there. “She’s gone.”





“We all heard it, Garon, you don’t need to keep banging on about it.”

“So what was it?” asked the worried looking man, trying to smooth his greying dark hair back in place.

“Probably just another bomb,” said Zeela.

“It sounded different,” said Garon.

“He’s right there, Zee-Zee. Sounded like engines,” said Bren.

“Maybe they’ve finally come for us,” said Garon.

“Doubtful,” said Cobalt. “The explosions are still going on above. They won’t come and rescue us in the midst of that.”
Garon frowned at her. “Well thank you, beacon of hope.” He closed his eyes. “The water situation-”

“We’ve already discussed this,” Zeela interrupted him. “We’re going to have to ration it even more.”

“There’s the puddle,” said Garon.

“The puddle you wash in?” said Cobalt.

“The puddle I wash in, yes.” He pointed back towards the darkness. “It drips constantly. We can surely drink it.”

“Garon, chief, you smell of vinegar. I ain’t drinking that.”

“Better than smelling like you, Bren Fasko.”

“All right, gentlemen,” said Zeela, holding out her hands. “Bren is right – we can’t drink that water. You may be able to wash in it, but I wouldn’t fancy drinking it.”

Garon closed his eyes and thumped his fist down on the rocky surface, instantly regretting it. “There must be something we can do.”

“Other than sit here, I don’t expect there is much else we can do,” said Zeela.

“Well, we all knew it was coming, didn’t we?” said Bren, drawing his knees up to his chest and looking up ominously at the rocky ceiling.

“I thought it was just rumblings in the media myself,” said Garon. “Never thought it’d happen.”

“I did,” said Zeela. “It was inevitable really.”

“Not inevitable, Zeela,” said Cobalt. “The last thing I heard was that your government was trying to broker a deal with ours.”

“It obviously went horribly wrong,” said Garon. “Probably anti-interspecies protestors again.”

“You surprise me, Garon,” said Zeela. “I would have thought you’d have been keen on keeping our race pure.”

“Sweetheart,” said Garon, flashing her a smile, “I like the ladies no matter what planet they come from.”

Zeela frowned and shook her head, but she couldn’t help but stifle a smile. Garon was an insufferable big head sometimes and loved himself, but she couldn’t deny that he could charm the ladies. That’s when he wasn’t trying to charm the banks numbers.

Her mind started drifting to her own, failed relationships and how she had never truly found someone she really, really cared for. She lived for her job and, no matter how much she hated it, that was her life.

She was about to sink into the misery of her memories again when something caught her attention. There was a sound coming from the tunnel behind her. It was faint at first, but it was getting closer. It sounded like someone – no, two people – crawling through the tunnel.

“Can you hear that?” asked Zeela.

She didn’t need to ask them. Garon, Bren and Cobalt where already looking past her into the darkness.

Zeela scrambled backwards to sit with the others as they stared into the darkness and waited.

“Who’s there?” shouted Garon.

“It’s impossible,” said Zeela. “No one else could have gotten down here.”

But sure enough a face emerged into the dull light followed by a second. The first was an older man, possibly in his late 40’s. He had a thin face with short grey hair. The second person was a young girl, possibly in her early twenties, with dark haired tied back into a ponytail and dressed in an odd mismatch of clothes.

Come to think of it, thought Zeela, the man’s clothes didn’t make much sense either. It was the faces that intrigued her the most though. They definitely weren’t Halleans or Rathtoks. They looked almost Human.

“Who on Hallea are you?” asked Garon.

“Oh, hello,” said the man, smiling widely at them. “This is my friend Mary and my name is the Doctor. We seem to be trapped down here.”

“Join the club,” said Bren.

To be continued...