Nuclear Time

Apollo 23 by Justin Richards

Night of the Humans by David Llewel yn The Forgotten Army by Brian Minchin Nuclear Time by Oli Smith The King's Dragon by Una McCormack The Glamour

Chase by Gary Russell

Nuclear Time

OLI SMITH

BOOKS

1 3 5 7 9 1 0 8 6 4 2

Published in 2010 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing.

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Copyright © Oh Smith 2010

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Executive producers: Steven Moffat, Piers Wenger and Beth Willis BBC, DOCTOR WHO and TARDIS (word marks, logos and devices) are trademarks of the British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence.

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Commissioning editor: Albert DePetrillo

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For Emma,

without whom I wouldn't be a writer

University of Michigan, 23 February 1973

The radio hissed static for a second, squealing as

the dial searched for the right frequency. The garbled

voice of an announcer suddenly faded to silence on the

word 'Brothers', and Doctor Albert Gilroy spun the

volume up to maximum.

In the dark lighting of the computer lab,

silhouetted against the warm orange glow of the

overhead projector, he thrust the sleeves of his lab coat up his arms and prepared his best air-guitar stance as

the soft opening riff built in intensity and the high-

hat skittered away underneath. The electric guitar solo

squealed in and Albert began, vibrato-ing thin air with

his left hand and nodding

7

DOCTOR WHO

his head in a fashion that was completely wasted on

his closely cropped blonde hair.

'Who's that lady?' the radio sang.

'Who's that lady?' Albert warbled an echo.

'Beautiful lady.'

The double fire doors to the lab slammed

noisily open, and Albert scrambled into some

semblance of a dignified stance as he spun around and

pushed his glasses back up his nose.

One of the cleaners was shuffling backwards, bum

first through the doors, dragging a floor polisher

behind him. He turned at the sound of the radio and

squinted to spot the scientist in the dimly lit room. The faintly blinking LEDs that spanned the computer

banks of the lab did little to illuminate the old man, and it took Albert a second to recognise him as Sam, the part-time janitor who refused to retire.

Sam shuffled self-consciously as the awkward

pause lingered. 'Uh, sorry to disturb you, Dr Gilroy.

Bit late to be workin', isn't it?'

'Yeah, I guess, but it takes four hours to boot up

these babies in the morning, so I might as well take

advantage of them while they're still hot.' He gestured

to the technology around him, raising his voice over

the music. 'Not much longer now, though. I'm

expecting a breakthrough tonight.'

'Oh yeah? Something good?'

8

NUCLEAR TIME

Albert smiled wryly. 'Well, either I will have

created something Earth-shatteringly incredible, or...'

He paused. 'Or I discover that I've been wasting my

life for the past four years.'

Sam ran a chubby hand through his thinning hair.

'I see. Well, you let me know when that happens

either way, an' I'll come back and do the floors.' He

started shuffling back the way he had come. 'Have

fun with the Isley Brothers.' He nodded to the radio.

'You a fan?'

'Nah, not for me, but my daughter likes 'em.

Anyway, see you later.' The double doors closed

behind him with a soft thud.

Albert waited a few seconds before bunching his

hands into fists and bicycling them around in time

to the music once more. 'Gotta keep on keepin' on, if

I don't, she'll do me wrong!' He resumed his singing.

'Oh, Dr Gilroy, I forgot to mention.'

Albert made a big show of looking for his pen,

scattering his research papers onto the floor in the

process, as Sam poked his head back around the door

frame.

'I don't suppose you'd have heard if you've been

in here all day.' The janitor paused. 'But the war's over.'

Albert sobered up for a second. 'Oh really?

9

DOCTOR WHO

Wow.' He tugged at his tie. 'Who won?'

Chicago, Il inois, 23 February 1973

It had taken Major Geoffrey Redvers two helicopters,

a plane, a taxi, three buses and four days to return to

Chicago from his post in Saigon. He leaned against the

greasy window pane of the route 57 bus, counting the

blocks until he could see his house. Orange

streetlamps rippled a hazy glow over the empty seats

in front of him and he looked out at the grey

mundanity of the shop fronts that slid lazily past. Still familiar after three years.

This was not a hero's welcome.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with two

fingers and rubbed his eyes, pulling his overcoat

tighter over the freshly pressed and ironed

uniform beneath. 'Waste of time that was,' he

growled under his breath.

No one had been waiting for him at the airport. No

one had been waiting for any of them. Geoff

remembered standing forlornly on the tarmac for nearly

an hour with his brown leather suitcase, just in case

Margaret had been caught in traffic, before eventually

making his way quietly to the taxi rank.

'Goodbye, Vietnam,' he'd muttered as the

10

NUCLEAR TIME

third taxi driver locked his doors and made a

disrespectful gesture. A few minutes later he'd

admitted defeat. He walked hurriedly back inside the

lobby and bought a coat.

The sound of the bus bell broke Geoff's reverie, and

he stumbled groggily to his feet, yanking his luggage

off the shelf above his head. One hand on the

suitcase and the other holding his coat together, he

shuffled past the driver and stepped out onto the

sidewalk, turning his face into the warm evening

drizzle. The hiss of the bus doors closing blended with

the sound of its wheels in the puddles as it pulled away, splashing his polished shoes.

He swore and dropped his bag to inspect the

damage. His fingers fumbled in the half-light,

scratching the wet tarmac as he searched for the ends

of his laces, but he was too tired. For nearly a minute

he stood, doubled over on the sidewalk, screwing up

his eyes to try and clear his vision, his hands

swinging loosely over his shoes.

Then he crumpled. He clenched his fists hard and

straightened up, kicking the suitcase with frustration

as he let out a yell of anger — years of pent-up rage,

anguish and grief condensed into a short, brutal punch

of sound.

Alight came on in the house across the street and he

paused in embarrassment, quickly composing

11

DOCTOR WHO

himself and wiping a hand across his face.

Calm.

He breathed deeply and gathered his coat

together once more over his uniform. Slowly, he

picked up the suitcase, tested the clasp to make sure

that it hadn't snapped, and strode over to his front door, trying to look for all the world like his heart hadn't

been broken.

Margaret opened it before he could knock and

ushered him quickly inside, slamming the door

behind him.

'Shoes off,' she said. 'And be quiet. Sally's in bed.

What did you wear that uniform for? You know what

everybody thinks.'

Geoff leant against the grubby patterned

wallpaper as he tugged his shoes over his damp socks

and looked over to the darkened staircase at the end of

the hallway. Sally had a window above her bedroom

door, and so the landing light was turned off when she

went to bed to help her sleep. He was supposed to

have papered that over the last time he'd been on

leave.

He turned his attention to the hallway, taking in

all the familiar details: the sickly orange glow of the

wall-mounted light fittings, the chips in the kitchen

doorframe from where they had carried the dining

table when they first moved in. He tried to replicate

the feeling that he had felt so many

12

NUCLEAR TIME

times before, that this house was home, a haven,

somewhere that he could keep his family safe and apart

from the horrors of the world outside. But the familiar

warmth didn't come, and he was left feeling hollow

and empty.

From the corner of his eye he realised Margaret was

still waiting for a response.

'I didn't know,' he replied simply. 'But I guess I do

now.'

Margaret stopped fussing and stared at him. Her

soft brown eyes were warm and homely, though

Geoff's had long since lost their shine. She held out her arms and gathered him to her, hands spread across his

back, still wet from the washing up.

'I'm sorry I didn't come,' she whispered. 'Yeah,

me too,' he said.

She had to stand on tip-toe to kiss his forehead, deftly brushing her hazel hair away from her mouth as

she leant in. 'Are you all right, honey? You're home

now, it's over. We're together again.'

Geoff gazed at her with nothing but pain and

turned away. 'No, Marge, I'm not all right. I'm not all

right at all.'

University of Michigan, 24 February 1973

'It's not the memory capacity that's the issue; it's 13

DOCTOR WHO

the accessing of that memory. I believe that the fold-

loop set-up I've created here is at least able to

approximate some sort of intelligence. Not in the sense that it can learn and evolve, but in the sense that it can use the information it already has in a manner

that, to the person interacting with it, resembles

intelligence. It can access the data to an appropriate

depth dependent on the situation, and should have

the ability to tailor the retrieval of that data and apply it to problems that are not directly related to the

specific, um, category it has assigned to said... data.'

Albert snapped the Dictaphone off for a

second. 'Too many datas,' he said to himself. He looked

at the clock before hitting the record button once more.

'Time check, and it's four-oh-five on February the

twenty-fourth, and I'm running the program now.'

The room lit up. Accompanied by a roar of fans as

the computer banks struggled at full capacity to run

the software that contradicted all their traditional

programming. LEDs strobed across the walls,

imbuing the lab with an atmosphere that was more

disco than science.

Albert wasn't dancing. He tapped his pen

feverishly against the side of his neck and

stepped over to the amplifiers that stood beneath the

overhead projector to flip them on. The

14

NUCLEAR TIME

accompanying pop made him screw up his face in

discomfort but, before he could adjust the levels,

something happened. Something that he hadn't

expected to ever experience in his lifetime, something

he had hoped and dreamed and prayed for, but

that he had never truly believed nonetheless.

A voice came out of the speakers.

'Good... morning,' the synthesised though

feminine voice grated softly.

Albert opened his mouth and closed it again. 'It's

late,' she continued. 'Or is there an error in my

clock?'

The second time Albert opened his mouth he

managed to muster a faint squeak at the back of his

throat. Unwilling to take his eyes from the speakers,

he raised a hand slowly and scratched his fingers

through the bristles of his unshaven cheek. Then he

slapped himself.

'Um, yes yes no, you're right. Your clock is fine,

absolutely fine,' he gabbled, darting forward then

realising he had no good reason to do so. He had the

strangest urge to shake the voice's hand but, with no

tangible presence to engage with, he ended up flapping

his arms about instead. 'Holy Lord,' he whispered.

'Who are you?'

'Me? Oh yes, of course, I'm Albert, I'm the one

15

DOCTOR WHO

who's been staying up late, the one who's been, you

know, trying to bring you to life! And by life I

mean...' he added hastily, waggling a pair of air-quotes with his hands, 'Life.'

'So you, Albert, are my creator? I will reassign the

data to that category.'

Albert sniffed and realised he was crying. It

worked! 'Reassigning data! Picking and choosing,

categorising, making logical connections! This is it!

This is exactly it! You work!'

He raised his palms up against the projection on the

wall and watched the hand-drawn flowcharts spread

across the backs of his hands as they moved under the

light — the key to artificial intelligence. He rested his forehead against the golden square and breathed

deeply.

'You're alive.'

The LEDs around the room flared for a second then

died down as the computer banks considered his words

for a second before the voice came again. The inflection programme wasn't quite as effective as Albert had

hoped, but the voice appeared to be choosing its words

carefully in the sentence that followed.

'And I am?'

Albert spun around. He had nothing prepared to

answer

that

most

fundamental

of

opening

questions. He scanned the room quickly: computer

16

NUCLEAR TIME

banks, desks, notes, paper, pens, the projector, the radio.

Nothing really jumped out as inspirational. The radio!

A slow smile spread across his face.

'You are...'

He paused. No, that wasn't right.

'Your name,' he said finally, his grin broadening, 'is Isley.'

17

Chapter

1

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 3.39 p.m.

Golden sands lifted themselves from the dusty

ground and swirled into the air, catching the heavy

light of the afternoon sun as they ballooned out from

the soft, square indentation on the desert floor that was slowly imprinting itself onto reality. With a thunderous squeal and roar of engines, the hefty blue outline of the TARDIS forced itself into the world with all the subtlety of a locomotive. The cloud of dust had barely settled

when the Doctor slammed open both double doors and

slouched in the frame, observing the tableau in front

of him.

'Colorado,' he said, scratching his nose and

flipping his fringe from his deep-set eyes. Rory

19

DOCTOR WHO

appeared in the doorway behind him and peered over

his shoulder.

'Oh yeah?' he said. 'And how do you know that?'

The Doctor looked at him as if he were stupid. 'I

can smell it.'

His companion smirked with disbelief. 'Right. You

can smell where we are?'

'That's what I just said.'

Rory folded his arms. 'OK, so what can you

taste?'

In response the Doctor fell to his haunches and

scooped up a handful of dust. Then he stuck his

tongue in it. He mulled the flavour over for a few

seconds then stood up once more. 'August the

twenty-eighth, 1981.' He glanced at the sky. 'And it's

three o'clock in the afternoon.'

He shot the young man a smug look and shoved his

hands in his jacket pockets before striding out into the sunlight.

Rory took the bait. 'All right,' he sighed. 'How did

you do that?'

The Doctor spun around and flourished his

hands like a magician. 'Magic!' he whispered

theatrically, then turned back in the direction he'd been walking and sauntered away.

Rory felt a hand on his shoulder.

'Ignore him, he's just showing off,' said Amy.

20

NUCLEAR TIME

Rory reached his hand up to touch hers and

turned to look at her. 'I wasn't impressed anyway,' he

lied.

Holding Rory's hand tightly, Amy stepped past

him out of the TARDIS and started after the retreating

figure of the Doctor. 'Come on then, let's go and find

out why we're here.'

Rory barely had time to pull the doors closed

behind them before he was dragged off into the street.

The street?

For the first time since they had landed, Rory took

a

proper

look

around.

The

TARDIS

had

materialised at one end of a small village. Homely

timber houses marked neat grids between the dusty

desert roads. Every garden had a white picket fence

backed with deep green bushes and tightly

trimmed lawns. Various polished automobiles were

parked casually in the drives. Behind the housing,

Rory could make out the wooden spire of a

traditional American church and the outline of a few

taller structures that were lost in the haze of the sun.

Amy came to a halt in front of a large wooden sign

that was positioned opposite the TARDIS doors and

Rory almost tripped over her. He craned his head up

and squinted against the glare to read what had been

painted, surprisingly roughly, on

21

DOCTOR WHO

the whitewashed board.

Welcome to APPLETOWN.

'I'm sorry,' Rory murmured, 'but we seem to have

landed on the set of Desperate Housewives.'

Amy tutted. 'If you ever watched Desperate

Housewives with me like I keep asking you to, you'd know that this is nothing like where they live. For a start all their houses are in suburbia, with roads, not

dusty desert outposts - no matter how neat and tidy

it's kept.'

'Well it looks like suburbia to me,' Rory huffed. 'It

looks like someone's taken a bunch of suburban houses

from a nearby city and plonked them in the ruddy desert.

But then that's probably just me.'

Amy pondered for a second. 'You know, when you

mention it, it kinda does I guess.' She shook her head

and dismissed the notion. 'Anyway, eyes on the

prize, Rory! Let's go and see what the Doctor's up to!'

They found the Doctor on his knees in someone's front

garden, peering at the grass. The pair watched

quietly from the other side of a bush as he first

plucked individual blades from the lawn, inspected

them and tossed them over his shoulder, then bent down

even further and stuck his nose in the grass, breathing

deeply. When he opened his mouth to start grazing,

Amy decided it was time

22

NUCLEAR TIME

to step in and save him at least some dignity. She

clacked open the gate and walked over to him. 'So,'

she said, 'Colorado, eh?'

'Yep.' The Doctor leaned back on his heels and

scratched his head.

'1981?'

'Yep.'

'Cool. So what happens here, then?'

The Doctor looked at her with some puzzlement. 'What

do you mean, "what happens here"?'

Amy gestured around her with a hand. 'You

know, what happens here? Something must

happen here in 1981, otherwise we wouldn't be here, would we?'

The Doctor shrugged and began inspecting the lawn

once again. 'I don't know of anything that happens here,' he said. He looked up again briefly. 'Well, obviously I know lots of things that happen in Colorado in 1981, but nothing particularly interesting springs to mind. Why, do you have somewhere you want to be?'

Rory chose to interject at this point. 'We were just

wondering why you'd decided to land here, that's all.'

'Why?' The Doctor leapt to his feet and

snapped his gaze from one person to the other in

utter disbelief. 'Why? Why not? Why can't I go to Colorado in 1981? Just for fun? To have a look

23

DOCTOR WHO

around? To test my new sniffing and smelling

routine?' He paused for breath. 'I just go places, that's all, and right now I happen to have gone to Colorado in

1981. Is that all right?'

Rory held his hands up defensively. 'OK, OK, sorry,

Doctor, we were just asking.'

'Well it's very kind of you to worry about such

things, Rory, but frankly if I wanted someone to play

the role of Mum in my life I would have grown one

or ordered one or... auditioned one.' He flapped his

arms about. 'You know what I mean.'

'Yes, you mean I'm like an old nagging mother,' Rory

said.

'Exactly!' The Doctor grinned. He looked at Amy

and waggled a finger at her fiancé. 'Sharp, this one.

Sharp!' He dropped back to the ground to resume his

investigation of the grass. 'Aha!' he shouted suddenly.

'At last! Found it!'

'Found what?' Amy leant in to see what he was

looking at.

The Doctor plunged his fingers into the ground and

tugged. 'The edge!' he said triumphantly, and yanked a

large square of turf out of the lawn.

As one, they all leant over and peered at the

metre-square hole in the grass, beneath which lay the

same desert ground that composed the streets and

paths of the rest of the village.

24

NUCLEAR TIME

Rory stated the obvious. 'Well, their garden isn't

going to last long if they simply lay turf on dry

ground.'

'No,' said the Doctor, folding his square and

dumping it on the lawn. He looked around. 'It would

also explain why there're no trees. Never trust a

village with no trees, Rory - it's the golden rule.'

'We could be in one of those new settlements, the

type that are all planned out in advance before being

built in one go - you know, like Milton Keynes,'

Amy said. 'That would explain why everything

looks freshly painted.'

The Doctor tugged at his jacket cuff as he

thought for a moment. 'We could,' he admitted. 'But

in my experience villages tend to spring up around

rivers, or railroads, or fertile farmland, or just...

something useful.' He looked around absently.

'But there aren't any roads,' Rory pointed out.

'There aren't any roads leading in or out of this village at all.' He paused and a shiver ran down his spine.

'Where are we?' he asked finally.

'I don't know,' the Doctor admitted. 'Let's take a

look around and ask a few of the locals.'

Amy was immediately ready for action. 'Right,' she

said. 'Where do we start?'

'Well, I know where I'm starting,' said Rory.

25

DOCTOR WHO

Amy looked at him quizzically. 'The

pub!' he grinned.

The Coffeehouse was the closest Amy and Rory

could find to a pub, and Rory made his

dissatisfaction very clear. 'It's too hot for coffee. Where do people go in America when they want something

cool and refreshing?'

Amy sighed. 'They probably have an iced latte or

something.' She too was feeling the heat and slipped

her jacket off to sling it over her shoulder as they

pushed open the glass-fronted door and stepped into

the dim confines of the shop.

As their eyes adjusted to the interior, they found

themselves in a cosy little room with a counter on

the back wall and space for a pair of tables in the

window, each with two wooden chairs. There didn't

seem to be any staff present, so the pair slumped

around the nearest table, relieved to be out of the

glaring sun for a few minutes. Amy peered through

the glass in search of the Doctor. 'I think he's

wandered off somewhere else,' she said.

'It's not a big place, I'm sure we'll find him again

soon enough.' Rory followed her gaze. 'Good

afternoon, can I help you?'

The pair swung around in surprise. A man was

standing behind the counter, polishing a coffee

26

NUCLEAR TIME

mug with a tea towel. He wasn't young but neither was

he particularly old, and his uniform of black clothes

with a pale green apron was so closely linked in

Amy's mind with a teenager's Saturday job that it

looked incongruous on anybody over the age of 20.

'Oh yes, thank you,' Rory said, talking over the

shock of seeing a man who seemed to have

materialised out of thin air. 'We were after a couple of iced lattes, if you don't mind. Wait.' He stopped for a

moment. 'Have they even been invented yet? Actually

make that a glass of something fizzy, whatever exists

at the moment. With ice.'

The man cocked his head on one side. 'We're out

of ice, I'm afraid. The freezer's broken.'

'OK, well in that case—' Rory's reply was cut short

as Amy kicked him under the table. 'Ouch!' he cried.

'Those boot heels are vicious!'

Amy ignored him and instead jerked her head

towards the window. Rory turned again, and

opened his mouth in surprise.

The village was alive! Where before had stood

empty gardens and abandoned streets, there were

now citizens going about their daily lives: trimming

hedges, clanging spanners beneath the bonnets of cars,

and chatting to each other over white picket fences.

The buzz of a lawnmower filled the air. And in the

centre of it all was the

27

DOCTOR WHO

Doctor, waving at them to come and join him.

Rory leapt up from his seat, calling to the man

behind the counter as he yanked the shop door open.

'Sorry, mate. Maybe next time.'

'What's going on, Doctor? Where did they all come

from?' Amy shouted as she pelted towards him.

'I have no idea,' the Doctor said. 'Maybe they have

a compulsory siesta at three o'clock or something.'

'Well it's pretty creepy,' said Amy. 'It's like, the

moment my back was turned...' She trailed off.

'Exactly,' the Doctor mused. 'It feels like they're

putting on a show, and we're the audience.' 'I

hate shows,' Rory muttered.

'Well, if we hate it we should do something about

it,' the Doctor announced.

'What?' asked Amy.

The Doctor turned and gave her that reassuring wink

he always did when he was about to get them all

into serious trouble.

'Heckle!' he said with a grin.

He walked over to the nearest pair of chatting

neighbours with a friendly wave and his usual How

do you do? I'm the Doctor routine.

Rory put a hand on Amy's arm as she moved to

follow. 'Look, three houses along, top floor window,'

he hissed in her ear.

28

NUCLEAR TIME

Her red hair was dyed a pale ginger by the bright

sunlight as she brushed it away from her face and

strained to look down the road. 'What?' she said.

'Just look.'

The windows of the houses reflected the

brightness of the streets below, but eventually Amy

managed to spot what Rory had seen. Someone was

looking at them from an upstairs window, a grey-

haired mess of a man who quickly ducked away when

Amy caught his eye.

'That's strange,' she said.

'Yeah,' Rory agreed, 'and unlike the rest of the

villagers, he doesn't seem like a happy camper.

Actually, I'd say he looked pretty scared.'

'Shall we tell the Doctor?' Amy looked over to their

companion as he ingratiated himself with the locals.

'Ooh yes, the weather is very lovely at the

moment, isn't it?' she heard him say to a housewife in a floral dress as he leaned lazily on the gatepost. 'I

definitely agree with you there, Mrs...?'

'I think he's trying to blend in,' she whispered to

Rory. 'We'd best leave him to it. Come on!'

She grabbed his hand, and they hurried off down

the street.

The Doctor watched them go with a puzzled frown,

29

DOCTOR WHO

but the woman he was talking to interrupted his train

of thought.

'And here I am, blathering on about the

weather,' she said, 'while you're cooking yourself half to death in that jacket out here!' With a smooth white hand she gently lifted the latch on the gate and beckoned

him into her garden. 'Would you like to come in?'

The Doctor tried to look as nonchalant as

possible as he scanned her face for any clue as to what

was so completely wrong about the village, but he

found only a genial smile. 'Well, that's very kind of you to offer, Mrs Sanderson, a cup of tea or, I mean, er,

coffee certainly wouldn't go amiss right now.'

Mrs Sanderson smiled. 'Of course, Doctor. If you'll

excuse me, Mrs Jones.' She nodded to her neighbour,

whose smile managed to be even more sickly sweet than

Mrs Sanderson's.

'Oh, of course, dear. Don't mind me!' said the other

woman.

The Doctor found himself ushered into the front hall

of a house. He looked around nosily. It was

surprisingly bare-boned in terms of furnishings. 'Very

minimalist,' he said. 'I like it!'

Mrs Sanderson opened the door to the lounge. 'You

must meet my husband, Doctor. He has the day off

today and would be very grateful for

30

NUCLEAR TIME

another man's company, I think.' She poked her head

around the open door. 'Dear? We have a visitor; he's

just dropped by for coffee.'

'Bring him in, bring him in!' came the response as

the Doctor stepped into the lounge.

The whitewashed walls continued into this room

as well, and a modest though comfy sofa was

positioned in the middle of the space, facing a television.

On the sofa sat a man who was neither young, nor

particularly old.

'Hello,' said the Doctor. 'You must be Mr

Sanderson!' He beamed.

'Indeed I am, sir.' The man matched his smile. 'And

you are?'

The Doctor took the proffered hand and shook it

warmly. 'The Doctor,' he said.

'A doctor, eh? Good stuff, good stuff. Pardon me if

I don't get up, I'm just watching the TV.'

The Doctor walked around the back of the sofa.

'Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mr Sanderson, but you aren't.'

Mr Sanderson's forehead wrinkled up to his

thinning hairline. 'I'm not?' he asked.

The Doctor pointed to the screen. 'Well, I only

mention it because your television is switched off.'

The man turned back to the screen as if he were

seeing it for the first time. 'Oh my word, yes,

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DOCTOR WHO

you're right. It must have blown a fuse.' He put his

hands on the arms of the sofa as if to get up.

'No, no, don't worry I can fix it,' said the Doctor. 'Bit of a DIY expert, me.' He crouched down by the side of

the television and began fishing in his jacket pocket for his sonic screwdriver. He pressed the power button on

the set a couple of times to no response and then

pulled the set away from the wall to inspect the

back. He found the cause of the problem almost

immediately: the white power cord was hanging

limply in a coil on the floorboards, tucked away under

the TV stand as if it had never been used.

'Curiouser and curiouser,' he muttered.

Making sure to keep it out of Mr Sanderson's eye

line, the Doctor lifted the plug and looked at it, then

scanned the room for a plug socket. There wasn't one. He tucked the cord back where he had found it and

straightened up.

'Anything the matter, Doctor?' Mr Sanderson

enquired.

The Doctor put his hands on his hips. 'What? Oh,

no, should be easy to fix. But you know what? I think

I'll have that coffee first.' He rushed from the room.

He found Mrs Sanderson in the kitchen, a

cobbled-together collection of cabinets, an oven, a

fridge, a washing machine and what seemed like

32

NUCLEAR TIME

an acre of lino.

'Oh hello, Doctor,' she said. 'Are you all right? I've

not made any coffee yet but if you —'

'You know what, Mrs Sanderson? I can make it

myself if you like. I'm a fussy drinker when it comes

to hot drinks, and I don't want to put you to any

trouble with my petty demands.' He put his hands

gently on the woman's shoulders and guided her

firmly out of the room.

'Well, if you're sure...' she started.

'Of course I'm sure. You go and keep your

husband company and don't mind me!' He slammed

the kitchen door in her face and pressed his back

against the wood panel. He listened intently as her

footsteps crossed the hall and into the lounge before

heaving a sigh of relief. Finally he clapped his hands

together and began to look around. There was only a

small window in the kitchen and the room smelt of

sawdust — he could see grains of it in the hazy light

that streamed through the grubby window pane.

After a couple of false starts he found an old tin kettle in the corner of one of the cupboards and took it over

to the sink, holding it roughly under the tap as he

spun the handle. Nothing happened. The Doctor

frowned, jamming the handle as far as it would go.

Still nothing.

He flung open the cupboard beneath the sink

33

DOCTOR WHO

and peered into the gloom. Inside he could see the

water pipe - or at least where the water pipe should

have been. The pipes leading from the plughole

ended abruptly, with no sign of any attempt to

connect them to a main of any sort.

Spinning around, he darted over to a light

switch and clicked it on, off, on, off repeatedly. Again, nothing.

'It's a fake,' he said quietly to himself. 'The whole

thing, the whole village - it's a fake!' He rested a hand on the door handle. 'But if that's the case...'

The Doctor's face grew pale as the inevitable

conclusion forced itself into his head.

'If that's the case, then who, or what, are the

citizens?'

34

Chapter

2

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 4.13 p.m.

'Hello?' Amy called, as she pushed open the front

door to the house. She looked up the dusty staircase in

search of the strange figure from the window, but there

was no sign.

Rory slipped in behind her and pushed the door

quietly to. 'Quiet!' he said. 'He's obviously not

playing along with that circus outside. I don't think

loudly drawing attention to that fact is going to do us

any favours.'

'OK, Mr Cautious, calm down.' Amy jumped as her

foot creaked on a floorboard. 'See, now you've made me

all jumpy.'

Rory took the opportunity to wipe the sweat

35

DOCTOR WHO

from his forehead and ruffled his dirty brown hair into

what he thought was a slightly better style. 'I don't

like this,' he said. 'It's like a horror film or

something: an idyllic town, a shadowy figure luring

passers-by to their dooms. And a chainsaw, probably,

knowing our luck.'

Amy made a noise. 'Oh hush, horror films

happen in haunted castles.'

'Not American horror films,' Rory replied.

'American horror films happen in places that look

exactly like this!' But despite his misgivings he followed Amy up the narrow wooden staircase.

The landing smelt dark and musty. 'Like

sawdust,' Amy commented as she moved forward

cautiously. There was a door at the end of the

corridor, hung slightly open, and it was towards this

that she was moving.

Rory swallowed then pushed in front of her. 'Let

me go first, just in case,' he said. 'Seriously, we don't know who this guy is or why he's hiding up here; it

could be dangerous.'

Amy opened her mouth to protest but decided to

indulge him instead, smiling affectionately as Rory

flattened himself against the wall on the right-hand

side of the doorway. She tried to look through the gap,

but all she could see was a haze of daylight. She

looked at Rory. Rory looked at her.

36

NUCLEAR TIME

There was a long pause.

Amy broke the tension. 'Oh, stop being so

melodramatic and open it!'

Rory threw his hands up in exasperation,

grabbed the handle and stepped into the room. 'Great,

cheers, Amy. If I get my head chainsawed off, I'm

going to blame—'

He stopped short.

A battered wooden armchair stood in the

centre of the attic bedroom, positioned just far

enough away from the angled ceiling so as not to cause

any discomfort to its occupier. Amy stepped around her

companion, tapping her boots along the floor as she

circled the chair to get a clearer view of the figure

who sat there, bathed in the white glow from the

dirty window.

It was a woman, young, early twenties at the most.

Her face was pale and freckled, framed by a short,

sandy bob and over her skinny frame she wore a

crumpled Star Wars T-shirt and tatty, pale blue jeans.

She ignored the pair as they stood at a distance,

inspecting her. She was nodding her head gently in

time to the tinny music that filtered out from the large pair of headphones that were firmly placed over her

ears.

'Hello?' Amy echoed her call from earlier, and again

received no response. She stepped forward and waved

her hand in front of the woman's eye

37

DOCTOR WHO

line. The woman blinked, but otherwise ignored her.

Rory reached around from behind the chair and

grabbed hold of the headphones. 'How about we try

talking to her without these?' he suggested.

'Don't do that!' a rasping voice yelled from the

shadows behind the door.

Rory snapped his hands away in shock. 'What

is it with you people and appearing out of nowhere?'

he shouted.

Amy raised her hands in surrender, swivelling as

the man they had spotted from the street stepped out

from the shadows behind the door and into the pool

of daylight. Up close, she realised, he wasn't as old as she had first assumed. In fact he was barely 40, but his face was sunken and tired, his skin yellowy and

stained - he was a wreck.

The man stepped forward and looked at her with

pale, watery eyes. 'Why are you doing that?' he said,

gesturing a limp finger to her raised arms. 'I don't have a gun.'

'Really?' Amy looked a little crestfallen. 'Sorry, it's

just that usually in these situations...' She lowered

her hands sheepishly.

The man tried in vain to smooth the wrinkles in

his dirty grey shirt with brown checks that matched

his tie and, once he was satisfied with his appearance,

gestured to the woman in the chair.

38

NUCLEAR TIME

'The cassette is playing her specific reset music; it

means I can talk to her openly without fear of the

military programming kicking in.' He looked sadly out

of the window. 'She was always a good listener.'

'Oh well, that explains everything. Thank you very much, strange man, we'll be on our way now.'

Rory's voice dripped sarcasm. He was not impressed.

The man shifted his focus back to the pair as if

suddenly remembering they were still there. A

spark seemed to rekindle itself in the back of his

mind, and he quickly became a lot more

animated.

'Sorry. My name is Albert. This is Isley. Say hello

to our guests, Isley.' He raised his voice over the

music on the Walkman. Isley turned almost

immediately

and

cocked

her

head

as

she

acknowledged the pair.

'Hello.' Her soft smile was gentle and warm.

'Isley

was

the

first,'

Albert

whispered

conspiratorially. 'In her present state, she won't

acknowledge

another

voice

unless

specifically

instructed to.'

'What have you done to her?' Amy was starting to

get a little riled by the man's incomprehensible

exposition. 'Is she brainwashed?'

Albert looked a little shocked. 'Brainwashed?

39

DOCTOR WHO

Good God, no! She's a robot!' He pointed out of the

window. 'They all are.' His voice lowered again. 'A

town of assassins, special forces - insert one of them

into foreign territory and stand back. No dead US

soldiers at the end, no grieving mothers, nothing for

the media to pick up on. The ultimate stealth soldier.'

There was a pause. 'At least that's what the Pentagon

always focus on. No one bothers to mention my

personality programs. To be honest, I'm glad they

fooled you. I've never been in a situation where people

weren't aware what they were; it makes me very proud.

At least I succeeded in that.' He cracked an insincere

smile.

'You're quite the Frankenstein.' Rory's voice was

steel. 'But your story's as bad as that book. If you've

managed to create something like that, in whatever

time period, let alone 1981, it's a big deal! It's not the kind of thing you can keep under wraps, no matter how

classified it starts off.'

'You'd be surprised. The effort involved in

keeping this project a secret is particularly thorough.

What you're about to witness is the final destruction of the evidence. Tomorrow there'll be no killer robots or

any other kind of intelligent machine. My designs

have been burned. The breakthroughs are never to be

repeated. The world will be none the wiser because they

might as well never have existed.' Albert paused.

'Actually, the

40

NUCLEAR TIME

world would probably be slightly better if they had

never existed, but regardless I don't think anyone'll

notice.'

Amy walked to the window. 'But, why are they

living

in

a

town?

Where

are

the

original

inhabitants?'

Albert took a step backwards, as if surprised. 'It

was purpose built.' He looked from one to the other.

'Wait... Don't you know where you are?'

'No, we just stumbled across it,' Rory explained. 'But

this doesn't make sense. Why purpose-build a town if

you're planning on destroying them?'

'Because that's how they work!' Albert seemed to

think he was stating the obvious. 'They blend into

everyday life - shopkeepers, housewives, mailmen,

grocers, butchers, pensioners... until barn!' He slapped a fist into his palm. 'We either trigger them or their disguise is exposed, at which point they

immediately terminate all witnesses, including any

designated targets we happen to have assigned.

By building this town, we've managed to convince

them all, temporarily, that they're still successfully

working undercover, at least long enough to all stand

in one place. After that we can...' Here he clasped Isley's hand tightly, and she squeezed back. 'Wipe them out in

one go,' he said finally.

'I think we should leave,' said Rory. 'I'm not

41

DOCTOR WHO

liking where this is going.'

Albert pushed a white strand of hair away from his

forehead. 'Yes, you must. You must leave right now,

there isn't much time. Don't go to the military base. If you survive and they find you, you'll wish you'd stayed

here.' He waggled a finger. 'And don't run, whatever

you do. You can't run. You have to walk, leisurely and

calmly. If the androids suspect, even for a second, that you know what they are, they'll kill you immediately.'

Amy edged slowly to the door. 'Come with us,' she

said. 'We can get you to safety.'

'And you can help us get out of here alive,' Rory

pointed out.

The man shook his head. 'No, no, I need to stay here,

with Isley.' He squeezed her hand again. She squeezed

back, even tighter this time. 'We started this together; we're going to end this together.'

Amy opened her mouth to retort, but was

interrupted by a soft click from somewhere on Isley's

chair. The group froze and Albert suddenly looked at

them in horror. His lips moved to speak but his voice

was cracked and broken.

'The cassette's run out,' he whispered finally. 'I lost

track of the time, the tapes should have been swapped

by now...'

Amy suddenly realised that Albert was no

longer holding Isley's hand out of affection - she

42

NUCLEAR TIME

wouldn't let go. Amy stepped forward to help him, but

Albert shooed her away with his free hand. 'Don't you

dare,' he said.

Amy stopped and took a guilty step back,

watching in horror as the man in front of her offered

no resistance to the vice-like grip that was crushing his hand. He looked at her with sad eyes and

acknowledged her sympathy with a curt nod. 'It was

time anyway.'

'Come on, Amy,' Rory muttered, taking her by the

shoulders and pulling her back.

Amy tried to shake him off. 'We can't just leave him!'

She stumbled onto the landing.

'Yes, you can,' Albert called. 'Because if you don't,

you'll die too. And don't RUN!'

His last word was stretched and twisted into a

cry of anguish as the pain became unbearable and he

dropped to his knees. In a second, Amy found herself

scrambling down the staircase and sprinting

towards the front door, in spite of Albert's warning.

She couldn't help herself and it was too late to care

whether Isley had clocked them as targets.

Amy felt ashamed.

'There was nothing we could have done. We have

to get to the Doctor!' Rory yelled in her ear as he

flung open the door and put his arm up to shield his

eyes against the sudden daylight.

43

DOCTOR WHO

A horrible splintering noise tore through the heavy

summer air, and Rory yanked Amy into a nearby bush

just in time as a shower of timber and broken glass

cascaded onto the path where they had just been

standing.

Amy was the first to recover, pushing herself out

of the tangle of twigs and leaves that scratched her face and hair. She turned to look at the pile of wreckage

that lay in the middle of the lawn, and her hand

instinctively flew to her mouth. In the middle of it all was Albert's body. Twisted and broken, the man's

corpse lay flat on its back, his head twisted at an ugly angle to face her, dead eyes staring blankly into hers.

'I don't care what Albert said,' Rory shouted. 'If we

don't get a move on, it'll be us next!'

They ran as fast as they could, away from the

house with the hole in the roof, tripping and

stumbling on the desert grit beneath their feet,

hauling each other along as they careened around the

first corner.

Rory looked around. 'Which house did the

Doctor go in?'

Amy stopped and considered quickly. 'That one.'

She pointed.

They tore through the front gate and slammed into

the front door. 'It's locked!' Rory shouted. He beat

his fist against the whitewashed wood in

44

NUCLEAR TIME

exasperation.

The door clicked lazily and swung slowly open to

reveal the Doctor standing in the frame. His jacket

sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hair was

flopped in a ruffled mess over his face. He seemed

completely unfazed by the out of breath pair as they

stood panting on the threshold, bits of bush still

tangled in their hair.

'Oh, hello,' he said. 'Come in.' He stepped aside and

beckoned them into the hall.

In his right hand he was holding a severed arm.

Amy and Rory found themselves ushered into a

darkened

lounge,

the

curtains

swiftly

pulled

together so the Doctor could work without fear of

anyone on the outside looking in. Small cracks of

sunlight highlighted the dust that swam in the heavy

atmosphere of the room. Amy felt for the light switch.

'Don't bother,' the Doctor told her. 'None of the

electrics have been wired up.'

He disappeared into the darkness at the centre of

the lounge, and after a few seconds Amy heard the

familiar whirr of the sonic screwdriver. A moment

later and its soft green glow filled the room. Amy

started as she saw who, or rather what, was sitting

on the couch.

45

DOCTOR WHO

Mr and Mrs Sanderson had both been almost

completely dismantled by the Doctor, their

various appendages and the circuit boards beneath

carefully laid out on the worn carpet like a life-size

Meccano set. Even though he was missing his right arm

and most of his lower body, Amy still recognised the

now obviously plastic face of Mr Sanderson.

'But, that's the man from the Coffeehouse!' she

exclaimed.

'A copy,' the Doctor told her. 'By my count, there are

about fifty different models in the village - not counting the duplicates.' He tossed the arm he'd been holding

over to Rory who caught it clumsily in the crooks of

his elbows. His skin crawled at the grotesque

accuracy of the plastic flesh that contrasted so

completely with the steel ball of the shoulder joint. He squinted closer at a small, inch-square stamp on the

chrome finish.

'This says "Property of the United States

Government". Hang on,' he said, looking up. 'By your count? You mean you knew all along they were

fakes?'

'Never underestimate a firm handshake. It can tell

you all you need to know about a person, Rory. Also I

used these.' The Doctor pointed at his eyes. 'Sometimes

the people in the background are the most interesting.'

46

NUCLEAR TIME

Amy crouched beside the deactivated head of Mrs

Sanderson and prodded at the open hatch behind her

temple. It sparked savagely and she jerked her finger

back. 'Why didn't you warn us, Doctor?' she said

quietly.

'Because these things are programmed to react with

deadly force to anyone who finds them suspicious.

If I'd told you, you'd both have started running around

making a fuss before I'd had the chance to sort

anything out.' He

fixed them both with an

admonishing glare. 'Much like your entrance just now.'

Amy turned on him so abruptly that the Doctor took

a step back. 'Someone's died, Doctor! We could have

died!' she shouted.

The Doctor was aghast. 'What? Who died?'

'The guy who made them. Isley killed him, we

distracted him so he didn't notice she'd been triggered.

But it's not our fault! We didn't know - you could have

warned us, and you didn't because you thought we

were too stupid to be told!' She was shaking with

emotion. 'How dare you!'

The Doctor's face went ashen and he ran over to

Amy, but he was brushed aside as Rory stepped between

the two and wrapped his arms around Amy. He held

her tightly, and she buried her head in his shoulder.

'He was called Albert,' Rory said quietly.

47

DOCTOR WHO

The Doctor paused, then nodded slowly. He

reached out a hand to touch Amy's heaving

shoulders but seemed to think better of it and

withdrew. 'I'm sorry,' he said simply. 'I should have

had more faith in you.'

'Yes, you should,' Rory agreed. 'Just give us a

moment.'

The Doctor turned and walked slowly out into the

hallway. Amy could see him leaning against the wall,

rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He looked tired,

but then he screwed up his face in concentration. In

the silence, Amy thought she could hear the noise of a

plane in the distance.

A second later, the Doctor burst into the lounge once

more. 'Wait, wait, wait!' he said.

Rory glared at him. 'I said give us a—'

'We haven't got time, Rory! What did you say the

name of this town was?'

Rory shrugged. 'Appletown. But—'

'That's it! I knew it didn't make sense! What's the

point of filling a town solely with robots that are

designed to live amongst humans?' The Doctor

slammed his fist against the wall. 'And the

buildings!

Flimsy

wooden

skeletons,

barely

convincing for any length of time. And no trees! It's a

stopgap, something to keep the androids pacified, to

stop them getting suspicious until...'

'Until what?' Amy asked.

48

NUCLEAR TIME

The Doctor looked directly into her eyes, and Amy

saw that he was scared, really, really scared. 'An Apple House is the term used by the US Army to describe the

prefabricated buildings that were built for the testing of nuclear weapons during the 1960s.'

Realisation dawned on the pair.

'The clean-up operation,' Amy gasped.

'But it's not the 1960s,' Rory countered.

The Doctor held a finger to his lips and pointed at

the ceiling with a long, thin finger. The group held

their breath, and eventually the engine drone Amy had

heard became more apparent. A heavy, hornet

buzzing that was growing inexorably louder with

every second.

'I think,' the Doctor said, 'that we should get back

to the TARDIS.'

They were at the front door in an instant, Rory

cannoning into it with such force that the wooden slab

flew off its flimsy hinges and crashed onto the path

outside. The Doctor tore ahead, then halted abruptly.

Amy and Rory stepped out behind him, blinking

around his silhouette as they tried desperately to see

what he was looking at.

The front gate clanked softly in a light breeze and

the bushes rustled gently, highlighting the terrifying

silence that had fallen on the village. Amy's eyes

scanned the street, falling across row

49

DOCTOR WHO

upon row of impassive plastic faces. The villagers had

gathered outside, waiting for them, but this time there

wasn't a smile between them. She felt the Doctor's

hand grasp hers and squeeze it tightly in an effort to

stop her trembling.

'It's Isley,' she whispered in his ear. 'She found us.'

The young woman stood, head of the pack, on

the other side of the garden gate. Her clunky

headphones were snapped in two and each

speaker hung limply across her chest from the

connecting wire. Her hair was ruffled, but other than

that she looked no different to when Amy had first

encountered her in the attic. Amy felt her fear replaced with a cold anger as she realised the obvious ease with

which the android must have dispatched Albert.

Isley cocked her head unnaturally and regarded the

trio. 'You know,' she stated matter-of-factly.

The Doctor nodded slowly. 'Yes,' he said. 'We do.'

There was a pause.

'Run!' The Doctor yelled at the top of his voice.

Amy found herself pulled violently sideways

towards the neatly trimmed privet hedge, and her hand

slipped from the Doctor's as he vaulted into the next-

door garden. Rory did the same and she

50

NUCLEAR TIME

scrambled to follow. She made the first jump with

relative ease, again with the second and third, but

on the fourth hedge she caught her boot in a branch

and was sent sprawling flat on her face across the thin

turf.

Rory heard her cry out and quickly turned to haul

her to her feet. He tried not to look at the advancing

crowd as she scrambled to her knees, instead snapping

his head this way and that in search of the Doctor.

'Come on,' he told Amy gently as he heaved her

upright. 'It's not that far.'

But when they turned again, the Doctor had

vanished.

The Doctor had surprised himself with his own

athleticism and felt a rush of adrenalin course

through his body as hedges and fences swooped past

beneath his boots in quick flashes of green and

white. He whooped with triumph as he reached

the end of the gardens and skidded into an alleyway

that ran between the next block of houses and one of

the large buildings he had seen when he first entered the village. Its rusty brown wooden cladding towered over

him, casting a deep shadow over the houses at its feet

and the Doctor could feel the sweat cool on his brow as

he paused for breath. Confident that he had shaken

51

DOCTOR WHO

his hunters for the time being, he turned to flash his

companions an excited grin, but there was no one

there.

'I've lost them again!' He ran a hand through his hair, and opened his mouth to shout. Then he thought

better of attracting the attention of the pursuers he'd

just lost. Then he felt guilty for not thinking of his

companions first. Then he decided that if he was going

to bring companions along on his travels he really

should start taking better care of them. Finally he

cupped his hands around his mouth and staggered in

slow circles around the narrow alleyway as he

shouted. 'Rory! Amy! Over here!'

There was no response. He opened his mouth to

try again, but the words died in his throat as he

circled once more and suddenly stopped short. There

was a figure standing in the dark shadow of the

building, an outline that was moving slowly

towards him with an awkward, jerking motion. This

wasn't the mechanical movement of an android; it

was

something

much

stranger,

something

unnatural, something completely wrong. Despite

its stuttering motion there was still something

familiar about that gait.

The Doctor opened his mouth in surprise as the

figure made a final step towards him and a shaft of

sunlight fell across its face from between

52

NUCLEAR TIME

the nearby houses, highlighting a gaunt, defined facial

structure and a mop of foppish brown hair hanging

limply across the man's forehead.

It was then that the Doctor realised that he was

looking at himself.

53

Chapter

3

California International Conference Centre,

3 August 1975

Albert stumbled across the beach that bordered the

Asilomar conference grounds, oblivious to the salt

water that ebbed and flowed over his tatty leather shoes as he swerved in and out of the surf. He took another

swig from the crystal bottle and wiped his face with his sleeve as the unbuttoned shirt cuff slapped at his face.

Finding the bottle empty, he spun around in

frustration, hurling it out to sea with a hoarse yelp and staggering on the spot for a second as he tried to spy the satisfying splash of it hitting the surface.

The light was fading and the glare of the

55

DOCTOR WHO

sunset, refracted a thousand times on the crests of the

waves, dazzled him. He turned his back on the sea and

loped back in the direction of the grassy dunes,

spluttering an incomprehensible mix of anger and

grief.

He ran out of balance at the steps to the wooden

walkway, swearing as he slammed his shin against the

first stair. He grabbed the handrail and swung himself

awkwardly into a sitting position. The beach swam in

front of him, but the tears in his eyes may have had

something to do with that. He rested his head in his

hands and listened to the steady roar of the sea as it

lulled his pounding heart.

At least the sirens had stopped.

Behind him the flames had died down and the

towering column of black smoke which had seemed

so solid and impassive only an hour before was

gradually dispersing.

Albert didn't bother trying to look up as the sound

of footsteps clumping along the wooden planks of the

walkway approached him. He fixed his eyes forward

and concentrated on the nearest rock, making no

acknowledgment of the presence behind him as the

noise ceased.

'Dr Gilroy?' a gravelly voice enquired.

Albert mumbled something he hoped sounded in

the affirmative.

56

NUCLEAR TIME

'Dr Gilroy!' It wasn't a question, it was an order.

He turned his head and leant backward as he

tried to take in the man who had so rudely

interrupted his breakdown. Smart khaki trousers hung

casually over polished black boots and there were no

creases in the jacket that was belted tightly around the man's waist. Albert gave up trying to count the medals

after he got to three and continued his attempt to force his eyes upwards to meet the man's stare, eventually

finding himself glaring at a clipped moustache that

seemed almost pasted onto a scarred and leathered face

and eyes so grey that they matched his hair.

'What?' Albert finally managed to enunciate.

The man held out a large hand, and Albert

allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. He

stumbled backwards a few steps and jabbed his

finger accusingly at the stranger. 'What?' he repeated.

The stranger waited patiently for a few

moments as Albert felt for a spot on the handrail for

support before continuing. 'Dr Gilroy, I am Colonel

Geoffrey Redvers. You do not know me, but I am

certainly aware of your work.'

Albert flung his arms up in exaggerated

frustration. 'What work? Eh? What work? It's all gone

now! If you want my work, you shouldn't

57

DOCTOR WHO

be standing here; you should be sifting through the

wreckage of the storeroom.' He gestured over to the

tree line where smoke was still drifting between the

branches. 'Burnt, all of it. Gone.' The enormity of the

situation hit him once more and he wailed. 'And Isley!

Did you know that I hadn't turned her off for over two

years? Two years! And still so much to do.'

Geoff displayed no emotion. 'You can rebuild it,'

he stated simply.

'Her.'

Geoff raised an eyebrow.

'Isley was a her.'

Geoff shrugged. 'You can rebuild her.'

Albert stepped forward and shoved him in the

shoulder, looking for a fight. The man didn't budge.

'Oh yeah? And where am I gonna get funding from

now, jackass? I'm a laughing stock. Completely

discredited. No one in that conference centre believes

that I ever had anything. And now they're right. I've nothing left but my notes, and they're not exactly a

formal proof.'

'The notes you left in Michigan?' Geoff asked

casually.

'Yes, the notes I left in Michigan.'

'Well, I'm afraid you don't have those either. My

department picked them up this morning.'

Realisation dawned on Albert.

58

NUCLEAR TIME

'Wait wait wait. You did this?' His hand flew to his face and he began to pace up and down the

sand, the sun bathing him in a hazy golden glow. 'No.

This isn't happening! You can't do this to me!'

Geoff sighed, 'I know that this has come as a bit

of a blow. But I have a proposition for you.'

'I'm not stupid, Colonel. It's not a proposition.

A proposition implies that I have a choice.' 'It's a

lot of money.'

Albert's face hardened. 'It had better be.'

Geoff stepped off the bottom stair and onto the sand,

walking around the bedraggled scientist. 'Come with

me.' He tilted his head along the beach. 'There's a

helicopter waiting in the bay. I presume you won't be

wanting to say goodbye to your associates.'

Now that they were on a level it was obvious that

the colonel towered a good foot over Albert. With his

tight uniform highlighting his hefty build, he stood in

stark contrast to the thin and unkempt figure beside

him. Albert hunched his shoulders in defeat and

reluctantly began to follow Geoff along the waterfront.

'No. My career is over. Disappearing is probably the

most dignified thing to do.' He fumbled with the hem

of his shirt as he tried in vain to tuck it back into his trousers. 'Yesterday I was going

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DOCTOR WHO

to be one of the most important men in history.

Yesterday I was going to change the world. Today I

am nothing.' He pointed back the way they had come.

'And no one even noticed. To them it's just another day

of canapés and wine.'

'The world doesn't need changing just yet. A lot of

people would rather it stayed just the way it is - at

least until this country is ready.'

'And what makes you so sure that you're

ready?'

Geoff shrugged. 'That's our job, to gain the

advantage, to nip work like yours in the bud before

our enemies notice that it even exists.'

'You mean the Russians.'

'Maybe. Everybody has the potential to be an

enemy if you wait long enough. It's just a matter of

time. And when that time comes, we'd like to be

prepared.'

Albert didn't respond, and the pair walked in

silence for a few minutes until they rounded the

headland and the squat black shape of a helicopter came

into view. A guard of four black-uniformed soldiers that had been standing casually around the makeshift landing

strip suddenly acknowledged the approach of the

colonel. They

snapped

to

attention, saluting

hurriedly as he strode past onto the landing strip.

The pilot started the rotors, and the helicopter

60

NUCLEAR TIME

was

barely

stationary

by

the

time

Albert

approached. The roar of the blades drowned out the

urgent orders that were thrown around the site as

the squad prepared to embark. One of the soldiers

flung a helmet into his hand and he jammed it onto his

head, ducking into the back of the cabin with Geoff.

The pilot turned awkwardly in his seat and smiled at

him. 'It's great to have you on board, sir.' He grinned.

Albert turned to look out of the window and

offered no reply. 'I hope you know what you're doing,'

he muttered over the radio.

'I was thinking the same thing about you,' came the

crackled response.

A few seconds later, the chopper lifted off in a

blizzard of sand and was soon pulling away from the

headland and moving out to sea. As the craft swung

around, Albert could still see smoke rising from the

conference centre as the firemen extinguished the last

of the flames, before the view slid softly away and he

squinted his eyes against the dying embers of the sun.

61

Chapter

4

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 4.57 p.m.

Time paused, and the Doctor could feel it.

His whole body seemed to slow as he stepped

towards the man he knew to be himself. Light flowed

like a liquid in his vision as if the universe itself didn't want the two to meet, and the golden hue of the

afternoon transformed into a haze that fogged his vision.

The world became a dream, and in the centre stood

two Doctors.

The Doctor screwed up his eyes and stumbled

backwards, one, two steps, until the sensation eased

and his mind began to focus again. He felt sick, but he

was sure the other Doctor was waving at him.

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DOCTOR WHO

'What do you want?' he managed to ask,

squeezing his temples with his thumb and

forefinger to try and clear the headache.

In response, the other Doctor held up an arm and

pulled back his sleeve to reveal his gold watch. He

twisted his wrist and turned the watch face towards

the Doctor, pointing at it urgently. Then he opened his

mouth.

'Teerrr ees ooon teeemm.'

The words were twisted and garbled, emphases in

all the wrong places, a horrible, disturbing sound,

and the Doctor could see the man was struggling to

mouth the correct words.

A shiver ran down his spine as the other Doctor

continued.

'Teer ees no teemm! Oorrri, Eeemi, tem leeiiv.'

'I don't understand! What are you trying to tell me,

what's wrong?' The Doctor could sense the urgency in

his double's voice. 'What's happened to me?'

'Teer eees no teemm!' the man repeated.

The Doctor suddenly understood. 'No time? Time

for what?'

'Ooorrri, Eeemi, leeiivv tem.'

'Rory and Amy? Why? What's going to happen?' Now

that his head had cleared, the Doctor could see the

sweat glistening on the other Doctor's brow, the

untidy chaos of his hair. Something had

64

NUCLEAR TIME

happened, something was going to happen. To him.

The other Doctor's sleeve seemed to pull itself

back over the watch of its own accord as he extended

his hand higher and pointed to the sky.

'Seethe boomb.'

There was no mistaking that final word. The

Doctor followed the man's finger and looked at

the sky before letting out a yell of anguish. The

dark shape of the plane was visible now as it circled

overhead, a black vulture above the village,

preparing for one final decent. The drone of its

engines was louder now than it had ever been before.

'He's - I'm right, there's no time to go back before

they drop the bomb.' He flexed his hands in frustration.

'But, I can't leave them! They'll die!'

The other Doctor shouted something that the Doctor

couldn't comprehend, an unnatural warble of sound

that ended with 'Taaaaarrdiz.'

'The TARDIS?'

'Cann zzdopp eet. Weel Zavay teeem.'

'What? How?' The Doctor's frustration was

mounting. He was painfully aware of each relentless

second that was ticking by whilst his double tried to

communicate.

The other Doctor said nothing in response,

instead feeling for his inside jacket pocket, the

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DOCTOR WHO

other hand smoothing his hair over his face.

Eventually, the other Doctor found what he was

looking for, flourishing open the psychic paper and

holding it out for his opposite to view.

The Doctor stepped forward once more,

wincing as the haze returned; he squinted

through the suddenly heady glow of the sunlight,

desperately trying to make out the faint diagrams that

had imprinted themselves on the white slip. Eventually

he stepped back, and his eyes met the other Doctor's.

'You're right,' he said finally. 'That could work. But

the TARDIS has never done anything like that

before. There's no telling the effect on the

infrastructure - it could completely destabilise her!'

But the other Doctor seemed to have finished,

holding up his hand to silence the Doctor. They looked

at each other one last time, before the other Doctor

shrugged his jacket off and into his hand before

slinging it awkwardly over his shoulder.

'Wait, you can't go!' the Doctor called after him. 'What are you? My future? I would remember being you if

you weren't, but if that's the case...' He swallowed

uncomfortably and trailed off. 'What am I about to

do?'

But the other Doctor had gone, shuffling

backwards around a corner and looking about

66

NUCLEAR TIME

himself as if searching for someone else. Then the Doctor was alone in the alleyway once more. He rubbed his

eyes as though waking from a deep sleep and walked

forwards into the cool shade of the warehouse between

the brutal shafts of light that glared from between the

houses. Then the noise of the engines above invaded

his mind and jolted him into action.

The Doctor's hefty boots pounded the sandy

ground as the TARDIS came into view, the deep blue

of its wooden frame an oasis amid the desert brown that

surrounded it. He didn't slow as he covered the last

few metres to the doors, key gripped in his hand,

aimed at the lock.

Just in time, the double doors swung gently

inwards, and the Doctor cannoned into the

control room, his lungs shocked for a second by the

sudden

encounter

with

the

TARDIS's

air-

conditioned environment.

He took the stairs by leaps and bounds,

stumbling to the central console and splaying his hands

across the panels as he reached for fourteen buttons and levers at once. The scanner snapped on in the wall

behind him, a detailed three-dimensional model of

the surroundings, searching and scanning for the

plane above the town. It found it, and the model

immediately split into a

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DOCTOR WHO

shower of possible trajectories and velocities, one

strand highlighted in red, as the digital image of an

atom bomb began to descend.

But the TARDIS was already in flight. The

Doctor whirled around the console, seemingly

propelling himself from lever to lever simply with the

force of each movement. 'Come on, come on, right spot,

right time, we can do it you sexy, sexy thing!'

He brought a fist down on a control panel hard,

and the howl of the engines exploded into a scream.

Yanking the smaller view-screen around with him, the

Doctor suddenly swapped sides and paused, eyes

transfixed on the readouts that swam across his vision

faster than anyone human could have comprehended.

His fingers tapped feverishly on the side of the monitor as he muttered under his breath. 'Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...' Pause. 'Now!' The last word was

punctuated by a brutal kick to the underside of the

console.

It clanged loudly, the reverberations echoing

around the towering control room for seconds after

the impact, and when the Doctor had stopped

nursing his injured foot he realised that the engines

had ceased.

Gingerly he rested his foot back onto the glass floor

and, painfully slowly, lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

68

NUCLEAR TIME

Hanging barely a foot from the Doctor's head

was the bomb. A large, ugly heap of metal engulfed in

a static ball of energy, white hot fire frozen abruptly at its highest velocity, halted only a few centimetres from his upturned face. Behind the bubble, its reflection

in the metal ripples that arced away from the central

column cast a thousand tiny suns around the control

room.

He stared in wonderment at the object for a

moment, then a slow grin spread across his face. 'I did

it,' he said to himself. 'I only went and did it!'

Hesitantly, he raised his hand up to the object,

transfixed by its violent beauty.

Suddenly, the calm hue of the control room

switched to a dark crimson as an urgent alarm blared

loudly out of the gramophone speaker on the console.

He snatched his hand away. 'All right, all right, I get

the point.' He scowled, reaching out to press a key.

'It's not often one gets to see an atomic explosion at

the point of detonation.' But his sulk was swiftly

replaced by a worried frown as the siren continued.

He looked back at the ball of energy, opening his mouth

in horror as, agonisingly slowly, the flames of light

began to swirl within the confines of the force bubble.

Time hiccupped, and the bubble's diameter

expanded by a millimetre as the TARDIS groaned under

the strain of containment. The Doctor found

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DOCTOR WHO

himself thrown against the railings of the console by

an incredible shockwave.

'Stasis leak.' He struggled to breathe as his arms flailed across the hard metal floor that strobed beneath him

in the red light. 'I have to get out of here.'

His

body

twisted

and

convulsed

as

the

atmosphere began to boil, suffocating him as he

pawed his way along the floor towards the doors. His

arms trembled and shook with the effort required

to pull his body even an inch, and by the time his

fingers were scrabbling at the edge of the wooden

panelling his face was drenched with sweat. Tears of

exertion ran down his cheeks as he prised open the latch and the door inched slowly open. It took his last ounce

of strength to fling his body over the threshold and onto the stony desert ground beyond.

'We've lost the Doctor!' Amy shouted as she tried to

catch her breath. 'What is he doing?'

It doesn't matter. We know the route; we can meet

him at the TARDIS.' Rory looked over his shoulder.

'That is, if we manage to keep all our limbs until we

get there.'

The citizens of Appletown were swarming along

the street towards them, spilling over into the

gardens Rory and Amy had passed through

70

NUCLEAR TIME

only seconds before. No longer attempting to appear

human, the androids clambered over fences and through

hedges with an almost insect-like movement of limbs

that contrasted grotesquely with

their pastel

fashion sense. Amy nearly retched as she watched

one woman, sporting a fetching mini dress that she

would have killed for, get caught awkwardly in one of

the fences as it collapsed beneath her, only to free

herself through a 360-degree rotation of her forearms

that twisted the rubber skin around her elbows until it

ripped to expose the steel skeleton beneath.

She turned and headed straight for the garden gate,

leaping into the road to dodge a pair of grasping

hands and rolling back onto her feet, nearly losing her

balance as she pushed forward to try and outrun her

pursuers. She could hear Rory panting behind her as

they rounded the street corner and the large

Appletown sign loomed up in front of them.

She picked up the pace for one last sprint to the

TARDIS as Rory drew alongside, the final few

houses hurtling past as they pelted down the street.

Three, two, one, the last buildings fell away and they

entered the open desert, sand and rocks stretching for

miles in every direction, the horizon a haze that blurred into the pale blue sky, and that was all there was.

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DOCTOR WHO

'But...' Amy panted as her lungs burned and she

slowed in bewilderment.

'It was there. It was right there!' Rory said.

But it wasn't any longer, and Amy rushed to the

shallow dent in the ground that was the only indication

the TARDIS had ever been there at all. She stood in the

centre of the square and flung her arms up in

frustration.

'Doctor!' she shouted. 'Come back!'

They stood in silence for a moment, their ears

straining for the familiar sound of the engines, but

there was nothing but the wind and the faint drone of

the plane as it passed over the village.

Rory scanned the sky for the aircraft in

puzzlement. 'I thought the Doctor was implying that

we were about to be nuked,' he said. 'But the plane is

leaving and we're still alive.'

'Well, thank heavens for small mercies,' Amy

snapped. 'In the meantime we're stuck in the desert

with nothing for miles but a town full of homicidal

robots for company.'

Rory looked over his shoulder nervously,

expecting a hoard of villagers to emerge from the

buildings any second.

'I think we should get as far away from here as

possible,' he suggested, but Amy shook her head

solemnly.

'The Doctor wouldn't leave us behind. He'll

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NUCLEAR TIME

come back - and when he does we need to be here.'

Rory shuffled uncomfortably. 'But there's got to be

some sort of human outpost somewhere, some sort of

observation tower for the testing.'

'I'm sure there is, but it'll be miles out of range of

an atomic blast and we have no idea what direction

it's in,' Amy retorted. 'We could just be walking deeper into the desert, how long do you think we'll be able to

survive out in the open in this heat? And that's not

even considering the fact that we'd be sitting ducks to

Isley and her friends out in the open.'

'OK, OK, you've made your point.'

Amy sniffed, and silence descended once more.

'I guess we should try and find somewhere to hide

then.' Rory suggested eventually. 'If we stay out of

their way long enough, maybe the citizens will reset.'

'Considering what's happened so far, I wouldn't bet

on it being so easy,' Amy said as she strode past him.

'Come on,' she said, 'we'll circle around and enter from the east.'

Rory looked around. 'Which way is east?'

'I don't know, it just sounded better than "a

different direction to the one we came in by", that's all.'

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DOCTOR WHO

Rory undid another button on his shirt and

reluctantly began to follow her, glancing over his

shoulder with every step. He couldn't shake the feeling

that they were being watched.

74

Chapter

5

Utah Military Research Base, 27 May 1977

'Coffee?'

'What? Oh yeah, sure. Put it by the limbs.'

Albert didn't bother to look up as Geoff entered the

workshop that the majority of the base had

nicknamed 'the magician's palace'. It certainly looked

the part, with great swathes of coloured polythene,

clothes and sheets of plastic flesh hung from wires all

around the central workspace. The tamer items stood

near the doorway: wooden crates filled with robotic

limbs, polished arms and hands complete with

bolted aluminium fingers hanging limply over the

edge of the boxes, independent generators whirring

gently

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DOCTOR WHO

and making the hands twitch in a scarily lifelike

manner every few minutes.

Further inside were rows of shelves containing a

large number of human-like heads — metal skulls coated

in the cutting edge of plastic technology. Rubber

eyelids lay carefully over gel eyeballs and the only hint of the microchip technology that stood in for a brain

was the open hatch above the right ear on every model

and the soft blue glow pulsating from within.

The back wall displayed the various readouts,

charts and graphs that were being fed out from the

small, handheld device in Albert's palm. Only fifteen

centimetres square, the box contained the entire

processing power and coding that had, four years ago

now, once taken up the entire computer lab at Michigan

University, and which in turn was connected by a spray

of wires to the centrepiece of the whole operation:

The android.

The flickering readouts rippled across the metal

skeleton, catching its steel bolts and reflecting tiny points of light around the room. This one was a woman, a

baggy T-shirt slung over the unskinned torso protected

her inner workings, but her head was almost human.

Her round face sported a wide pair of big blue eyes, a

freckly nose and ruby lips all framed by a short,

sandy bob to complete the

76

NUCLEAR TIME

illusion. Isley II.

If Albert had any emotional attachment to the robot

he didn't show it, instead wiggling specific wires with

the end of his biro and flicking his eyes to the

screen in search of a change in the data, repeating the

process at least twice for each connection.

Geoff was used to being ignored by the

scientist, especially now that the delivery dates, which had seemed so far away only a month ago, were

looming perilously close.

'And the admin girls and boys upstairs want you

to turn your music down. They can hear it over three

floors.'

Albert gave up switching the wires and

dropped the device on a nearby table, scratching his

ear with the pen. 'Really? Would they prefer to listen to me swearing and drilling? I'd take Cher over that any

day.'

'Well,

maybe

just

mix

up

the

cassettes

occasionally.'

The scientist sucked through his teeth as he took a

swig from the polythene cup. 'Sheesh, people have no

taste any more.' He looked down at his coffee.

'Speaking of which, what roast is this?'

'We're out; I had to use the canteen stuff.'

Albert ran his tongue over his mouth in disgust. 'Warn

me next time,' he said.

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DOCTOR WHO

Geoff moved forward into the lab and began to

inspect the android carefully. He waved a hand in front

of its face, but the eyes didn't follow it. He raised the other hand - nothing again. Suddenly he clapped

both hands together, and the rubber eyelids blinked

involuntarily. Albert carefully perched his drink on

the workbench with his control box and walked over

to join him.

'Only her involuntary reflexes are switched on at

the moment. I'm still trying to refine the trigger from

standard to military mode and I don't want her trying

to kill me if I get it wrong,' he said.

Geoff nodded and reached out to touch Isley's face,

but the scientist slapped it away.

'No touching!'

Geoff did as he was told. 'To be honest, I didn't

expect you to go so quietly when we asked you to

implement the military programming,' he said gruffly.

Albert sighed. 'I wasn't exactly surprised,

considering who's bankrolling me. I presumed robot-

soldiers would be on the agenda from the start.

At least this way I can also work on the civilian AI

model simultaneously. That's the magical part. With the technology you boys had already, it wouldn't have

been hard to create an android that just kills people.

But I can make an android so lifelike that it can

appear to be human

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NUCLEAR TIME

for days, even weeks before it's triggered to kill - that's the key. And making a human-like machine is what

I've always dreamt of. So I guess I'm happy.' He

shrugged.

Geoff looked at him earnestly. 'It's not all bad. Think

of the lives we can save when we don't have to put

human beings in danger. If we can create an

assassin, of any nationality, with full combat training -

a smooth and effective kill, no collateral damage and no US citizen put at risk.'

Albert matched his gaze. 'Yeah and think of all the

other people we might decide suddenly need

assassinating once it becomes a risk-free venture.'

Geoff turned away. 'Our job is to keep people safe,

Albert, not to terrorise the world.'

'Keep telling yourself that.' Albert picked up the

control box once more and swapped a couple of wires

around before screwing the back plate on tighter.

Taking that as a sign that the conversation was over,

Geoff walked towards the exit, but paused with his

hand on the door handle. He turned back.

'Hey, uh, have you seen Star Wars yet?' he

asked. 'I know it's only been out a week...'

Albert raised his eyebrows. 'No, I've not left the

building in three days.'

Geoff looked suddenly sheepish. 'It's just, I've

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DOCTOR WHO

got a couple of spare tickets, thought you might want

to come along.'

'Why'd you get spare tickets?'

'They weren't spare when I got them. I bought one

for Marge and one for Sally.'

'Oh... And why aren't they going?'

Geoff's military facade shattered for a moment as

he choked up and suddenly Albert no longer saw his

boss. In his place was a man who looked a shadow of

his former self: drawn and grey and very, very tired.

'She left me this morning,' was all the soldier could

manage before he turned and walked quickly out

of the laboratory.

80

Chapter

6

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 5.15 p.m.

The smell of smoke made the Doctor cough as he

gradually regained consciousness. Blearily, he

opened his eyes and realised his clothes were

smouldering. Pale white trails were rising from

beneath his body and, as he raised an arm to shield

his face from the sun, he noticed that his sleeves had

blackened along the back. 'Oh, swear,' he said half-

heartedly, dropping his head back to the ground and

waiting for his strength to return.

He gazed into the deep blue of the afternoon sky and

wondered how long he'd been unconscious, and

whether it was long enough to get a tan.

Then his memory came crashing back.

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DOCTOR WHO

The Doctor sat bolt upright. He reached a hand up to

his face and winced as he realised it was sunburnt.

That long? This wasn't good.

Getting to his feet, he looked around quickly. The

TARDIS stood, an incongruous monolith, in the exact

centre of Appletown. Roads radiated out from the town's

central space like the spokes of a giant wheel. He

looked to the sky in admiration; the bomber pilot

must have been extremely skilled to perform so

accurate a delivery.

He walked over to the TARDIS, slipping off his jacket

and wrapping it around his fist as he reached out to

touch the sturdy wood of the frame.

He was surprised when he found it quite cool to the

touch and quickly unwrapped his hand before placing

his palm flat against one of the panels. 'That's

strange,' he said. 'You must be dissipating the energy.'

He paused for a second and frowned. 'I wonder how.'

He scanned his surroundings once more, but this

part of the town was eerily quiet and he quickly realised that he hadn't managed to explore this far before. He

took a moment to get his bearings before deciding on

which

direction

he

would

find

his

waiting

companions. He needed to get them back to the

TARDIS as soon as possible - there was was no telling

how long the stasis field would hold.

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NUCLEAR TIME

He spun on his heel and walked in the opposite

direction to the one that he had intended.

Within five minutes the Doctor was lost. He looked

at his watch, then up at the third identical row of

houses he had passed in as many minutes, then back at

his watch, then up again. Something wasn't right, but

he wasn't sure which it was, the watch or the houses?

He looked at the timepiece on his wrist more

closely, peering at the three hands as they rotated

slowly across the gold roman numerals, the

second hand smoothly counting down; six, five, four,

three, two, one, twelve...

It was running backwards.

The Doctor considered the implications. He

scanned the rooftops of Appletown, holding his wrist

against his ear as he listened for any noise that might

indicate a loose cog in the mechanism of his

timepiece. Then he recognised a familiar shape

through the white haze: the dark outline of the

warehouse he had stood under only a few minutes

before, the warehouse where he had met himself.

He dawdled in the road for a second, eyeing up

the

building

with

uncharacteristic

hesitancy.

Abruptly he held up a finger, as if preparing to

make an excuse as to why he really, really

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DOCTOR WHO

shouldn't go and test his troubling theory, but found

he had nothing to say. He scratched at his forearm

where his rolled-up shirt sleeves had left the rough

material of his jacket to itch his skin, and then made

up his mind. He shoved the hand with the watch into

his pocket and walked on.

A few moments later he was skirting the sunny side

of the building, looking this way and that in search

of what he hoped he wouldn't find. He passed the

large, bolted wooden doors of the warehouse and felt a

chill run down his spine that was more than just the

sun being blotted from view. Then he saw him, his

past self, standing open-mouthed and gazing right at

the spot that the Doctor had appeared from.

'OK, OK, bear with me,' he muttered as he

slipped his jacket over his shoulder and shrugged it

on, but his past self didn't seem to understand and

stepped forward. 'Nope, you wait right there. I

remember that headache.' He held up a hand and

shuffled his pockets for the psychic paper. 'And I

remember how this went, so let's just get on with it.'

His fingers felt the soft leather wallet and he pulled

it out, trying to picture the maze of buttons and levers that had performed the stasis miracle on the bomb

as it imprinted itself onto the slip. He started as his

past self warbled something

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NUCLEAR TIME

incomprehensible and anguished, a blur of

sound.

'Koow duk tat. Tiiir rowu,' he finished.

'Yeah, whatever you say.' The Doctor flipped open

the wallet and held it out for his other self to see, but his face fell when he saw his past self's blank

expression.

'Right, backwards communication, how do you

do this?' His mind raced to try and map his sentences

onto a soundscape that would make sense in reverse.

He swallowed and opened his mouth. 'You can save

them, you can save them, stop it,' he whispered,

practicing quickly to himself before beginning.

'Meeth Yarvas, te dops nack.' He raised his

eyebrows to see if he had managed to convey

anything that made any sense, before realising that the

reaction to his sentence would have preceded his

speech anyway.

'ZZidart heathe?' his past self responded. The

Doctor knew what that meant.

'The

zzzidart,

yes,

use

the

TARDIS,

the

instructions I've given you, I mean, am about to give

you, they're for the TARDIS!' He spoke slowly and

loudly like a tourist in a foreign country with no grasp of the native language. 'You've got to use them now! You can save them from the nuke! I mean... bmobe

heathe!' He shouted over the other

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DOCTOR WHO

Doctor's tirade of nonsense, pointing to the sky with

urgency.

'Oh my days, I really didn't make an effort back then,

did I?' he muttered to himself.

Luckily the next words his past self spoke were more

comprehensible. 'Iirore, Yima.'

The Doctor raised his eyes to the sky. 'Thank

heavens for companions with nearly palindromic-

sounding names!' he said.

'Leave them, meathe veal, Iirore, Yima. Meet on

see reathe!' Sadness crept over him then as he

remembered hearing the words he was speaking now,

and the false hope that they had implanted in his

mind. 'You know what, past me?' he said quietly. 'The

terrible thing is, despite what I'm saying, I don't know if they live or die. I have no idea what terrible things might happen to them in our future. But there's one

thing I do know, and it's that we'll all die if you don't get a move on!' He yanked his sleeve down and pointed to his watch. 'Meet! Own! See! Reathe!' he yelled. 'Now

go!'

But his past self just stood there, recognition fading

from his face. The Doctor looked at him and realised

that his words had already conveyed their importance

long before he'd even arrived.

'Sorry,' he said. 'There's no point shouting at

you now, you've done what I asked already and

right now you have my entire life to live

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backwards through. But I'm not sticking around to

watch that all over again, I'm going. I'm going, and I'll fix this.' He paused. 'I promise, Doctor, I'll fix this.' With a curt wave, he stumbled backwards along the alleyway,

away from his past self, into the shadows and out of

the other Doctor's sight. He watched mournfully as

he saw his past self stumble backwards and begin to

circle, shouting his companions' names backwards at

the top of his voice. Then he turned and walked away.

'It was a good idea, a very good idea.' The Doctor strode back into the central square, and began to pace up and

down in front of the TARDIS. 'Go back on our time

line and dissipate the energy gradually rather than

letting it all be released instantaneously in the future.

Safer for you, yes, and for me, if it works.' He pointed an accusing finger at the inanimate time machine.

'But how long does it take to diffuse an atomic

explosion? Tell me that? It had better be soon enough,

because look at this.' He cupped his hand and turned

it upside down, flicking his gaze from the ground to

the TARDIS as a small cloud of sand lifted itself

from the dusty road and ascended towards his palm,

spilling into his hand as he turned it, unpouring the

dust that he would soon scoop from the desert floor.

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Then time froze, and stuttered.

For an instant the sand hung in mid air, tiny grains

sparkling as they caught the sun and the Doctor

crouched to inspect the shimmering trail that linked

his palm and the road. 'See?' He whispered, and

broke the spell. The sand flashed quickly through

various states of suspension, then hissed onto the floor once more. 'The universe does not appreciate a man

whose effects precede his cause.' He straightened up.

'And it's not going to put up with it for ever.'

The Doctor patted the side of the TARDIS and turned

to leave. 'You just do the best you can,' he said.

He turned his face to the sky, searching for the

bomber as it glided backwards, retracing its approach

over Appletown. The plane would've passed over the

military observation tower en route to the target for a

last-minute visual on the situation. He could follow

the flight path.

If the bomb wasn't going to detonate, then he'd need

to warn the troops.

88

Chapter

7

Florida Airbase, 3 February 1980

The grey expanse of tarmac stretched as far as the eye

could see and shimmered in the pale glow of a low-

slung winter sun. Albert emerged, blinking, from the

shadowy confines of the hangar, scratching his eyes

as they readjusted to a three-dimensional reality after

his twelve-hour shift at the monitors.

He stuffed his hands in his lab coat and strode away

from the steel building. Through the haze of the

horizon he could already see the black dot of the

helicopter as it approached. Behind him he could hear

the sound of jeeps hissing on the dewy tarmac as they

approached, but he kept his gaze

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fixed on the aircraft.

Car doors slammed behind him. A squad of

soldiers taking point around the designated landing

area and suddenly Geoff was at his side.

'Any idea what happened?' he said, wiping the

condensation from his moustache.

'Her pass wasn't cleared at the embassy and she

thought her cover was blown. I don't know the exact

details; it's chaos on the monitors. She just went

rogue.'

'This isn't good,' said Geoff.

'No, it isn't.'

The noise of the rotors drowned out the rest of

their conversation, and Geoff's hat was sent

skittering away across the airfield. Albert wrapped his

lab coat tighter around him in the sudden chill, the

hems billowing in the breeze. His wispy hair pulled

away from his face as he stepped forward to greet the

sergeant who was ducking out from the helicopter

hatch. They shook hands briefly.

'Is she in there?' Albert nodded towards the rear

of the aircraft.

'Yes sir. I'm hesitant to move her out of the

Electro-Magnetic Field though, she's pretty badly

beaten up and the civilian-reset won't work if her

innards are on display. I'm not gonna mess you

about, it was a nightmare getting her off-site.'

'You did good, Sergeant,' Geoff interjected.

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The sergeant saluted. 'Just doing my job, sir.'

'We can take it from here,' Albert said. 'This'll sort

out the reset issue.' He pulled a chunky box from his

coat pocket, attached to which were a pair of

headphones. The sergeant looked puzzled. 'It's a

Walkman,' Albert explained. 'They're all the rage.

Where've you been? Now, if you'll just release her.

Please,' he added.

The sergeant turned and gestured to the pilot to

shut off the spinning blades before approaching the

helicopter once more. He opened the rear hatch and

turned to look over his shoulder at the two men. 'The

EM field extends nearly to your feet, so be ready with

the headphones.'

Albert nodded.

A figure stepped out of the hatch: a young

female with a sandy bob and freckled nose.

Geoff turned to Albert and raised an eyebrow. 'You

didn't tell me you sent Isley in,' he murmured.

Albert ignored him.

The sergeant offered the woman a hand as she

stepped down to the concrete, but she brushed it away,

stumbling as her feet touched the ground and her legs

struggled to bear her weight. It was plain to see why.

He legs were in tatters, swathes of plastic hanging

limply from the dented exoskeleton beneath, and

her shorts were filled

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with bullet holes. The sergeant had draped his

regulation jacket over her shoulders and Albert was

relieved at that. He had no wish to see the damage

underneath.

Isley looked around uncertainly for a second. Only

one gel-pupil had adjusted to the light; the other was

clouded over. She spotted the men and gave an

awkward

smile

of

recognition.

Wresting

her

twitching hand from the hatch-frame she started

towards the pair, her left leg wobbling strangely with

every step.

The soldiers on point tracked the limping figure

slowly and silently as she crossed the tarmac

towards her creator. Nobody made a sound,

nobody breathed.

Albert smiled encouragingly. 'Welcome home,

darling,' he said.

Her legs gave out two metres before she could reach

the pair, and she dropped to her hands and knees with

a crunch of metal.

Albert ran forward to help her, holding the back

of her head with his hand and tilting it so that he

could look into her face.

'She's outside the EM field, Albert, be careful,' Geoff

called out.

'She won't switch to military mode if you don't

mention that she's a robot,' Albert called back. There

was an abrupt rattle as every soldier

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cocked his weapon. The deadly word had been

uttered.

'It's all right, it's all right! I've got it.' Gently, Albert slipped the headphones over the woman's ears before

she could trigger and clicked the play button on the

Walkman. 'I was just testing you.' He winked at the

stony faces around him.

Geoff's body blocked the light as he peered over

Albert's shoulder. 'What's that then?'

'The Isley Brothers. Puts her in a neutral state so I

can interface with the military and civilian programs

without her trying to kill me.'

'Any particular reason it has to be the Isley

Brothers?'

Albert sighed. 'Because I like them and I'd rather

listen to them than modulated static whilst I'm

working. Get some imagination, Geoff.' He pushed a

finger behind the woman's ear and her maintenance

hatch popped open. From his other pocket he produced

a tiny microphone and slipped the plug into a socket on

her skull before tapping her head sharply as if testing

a sound system. 'Isley? Isley, sweetheart, can you

hear me?'

Isley's mouth moved silently for a second before her

voice box synced up. 'Yes, Albert, I can.'

'Good stuff, well done, girl. Now me and the

colonel need to ask you a few questions. Is that OK?'

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'Yes, of course,' she responded.

'Good.' Albert handed the microphone to his

partner, feeding the wire over his shoulder.

'Isley,' said Geoff. 'Tell me what happened in Cuba.

Our information is scrambled.'

Isley turned her head to look at Geoff with a

puzzled frown on her face. 'I did as requested. I located the target, but my cover was compromised and I

switched to military mode as per my programming.'

'Yes, yes, we know all that. But did you kill the

target?'

'The target was one of the people I executed.' Albert

and Geoff swapped an uneasy glance. 'One of the people?' Geoff asked.

'I executed all witnesses that were aware of my...

nature.'

Albert snatched the microphone back, Isley's

impassive face turning to follow it.

'Wait, wait,' he said. 'Those weren't your orders. We

were standing by to airlift you out once you destroyed

the target — it didn't matter if your cover was blown after that. Why didn't you just destroy the target?'

'I was not aware that only the target was

specifically designated for execution. I was

programmed to locate the target and switch to

military mode, that is all.'

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'What?' Geoff was shocked. 'Albert, why didn't you

specifically program her to kill the target?'

'Because we didn't know what the target looked like at that time! I had no information to give her that

would isolate him amongst the other victims.'

Geoff stepped backwards and began pacing back

and forth in front of the android. 'Oh, this is brilliant, just brilliant. Our heads are going to be on the block

for this, you know that? We're going to be burned at

the stake.'

Albert ignored him and leaned in towards Isley,

speaking hurriedly. 'Isley, you need to tell me how many people you executed. It's very important.' He looked

at Geoff. 'Look, if it's one or two, we'll be fine; it's not a big deal.'

'It's still one or two more people than we

should've killed!' Geoff snapped. He put his hand

to his forehead. 'Dear Lord, think of the paperwork,'

he muttered.

'Fifty.'

The pair swung their heads to look at the

android.

'Wait, what was that?' Albert's voice trembled into

the microphone.

'Fifty. I terminated fifty witnesses,' Isley

repeated impassively.

The microphone shattered as it was thrown to

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the tarmac with the full force of Albert's strength. He

swore, he swore long and hard and loud, and he didn't

stop swearing for a good two hours after that.

96

Chapter

8

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 5.38 p.m.

Amy didn't breathe and, apart from the occasional grunt

as he shuffled across the lawn beneath the garden

hedge, neither did Rory. Their initial hopes that the

androids might have forgotten about them had been

dashed almost immediately as they attempted to

re-enter Appletown, discovering almost too late that

the residents had fanned out with military precision

and were sweeping across the village with relentless

ease. Rory had grabbed her and pulled her to the

ground in someone's back garden as he saw Isley's

sinister outline staring out from an upstairs window,

and they had proceeded to shuffle flat on their

stomachs

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through the terraced hedges and lawns from then on.

'These stains will never, ever come out,' Rory

hissed as he looked mournfully down at his pale blue

shirt, which was now streaked a dirty green and

brown.

'Is that all you can think of right now? I'll buy you a

new one if we get out of this alive, how about that?'

'Sounds fair,' Rory muttered.

They reached the corner of the next hedge, and Amy

curled up as small as possible in the nook, out of

sight of anyone passing by on the road that lay on

the other side of the greenery. She encouraged Rory

to do the same. They'd run out of back garden.

'We're going to have to cross the road.' Rory's face

fell.

'Give us a second,' Amy whispered back. 'I need

to catch my breath.'

Rory reached out and touched her shoulder

comfortingly. 'Take your time,' he said.

Amy tilted her head back and edged it up in an

attempt to see over the top of the hedge, before yanking it back down again, just in case. 'What I don't

understand,' she said, 'is how we outran them before

- they're machines for God's sake, we should have

been murdered the moment we

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stopped to look for the TARDIS. And then it's like, the

moment we started to move back inside the village,

they were swarming all over the place again.'

Rory rubbed his chin. 'Yeah, I was thinking about

that,' he answered. 'And you know what? I think

they wanted us to escape.' Amy gave him a withering

glare. He held up a placating hand. 'Bear with me.

Look, they were reset when we got here, right?

Well, now they're awake they probably have even

less of an idea where we are than we do. I think they were testing us, trying to see if we would lead them to

civilisation - it must be a nightmare for a bunch of

robot spies to be without the full information.'

Amy rested her head against the hedge behind her

and sighed as its leaves bowed comfortably around

her. 'So I guess now that we've proved we have

absolutely nothing to offer them, they won't be so

lenient next time.'

'Well, it's just a theory.' Rory shrugged.

Amy was silent for a second, gathering her

thoughts. 'OK, enough. We're freaking ourselves out

here. Let's just get somewhere safe until the

Doctor arrives. I don't want to think about anything

else right now.'

It was Rory's turn to peer over the hedge now. The

faint smell of leaves and general atmosphere

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of freshly cut grass seemed oddly comforting

considering

the

circumstances.

He'd

never

encountered danger in an environment that

reminded him so much of home before, and it was a

chilling thought to consider that such things could

happen on any street - even his.

'Let's go,' he muttered, and they did, dashing over

to the gate, fingers holding the catch so as not to

make a noise then ducking out across the junction

towards the opposite block of houses. Rory snapped

his head back the way they had come as Amy struggled

with the catch on the next gate. He looked around:

more houses, the warehouse, garden after identical

front garden and, standing motionless in the middle of

the road, Isley - two blocks away and looking straight

at him. He did a double take, not quite certain

whether he was seeing things, and in that moment she

flashed him a smile.

'Gotcha,' she mouthed and suddenly she was in

motion, sprinting at full pelt towards them, no

acceleration, no build-up, zero to twenty miles per hour in the time it took for Rory to blink.

He threw himself after Amy, a sliding tackle into

the gate as she moved to hide behind the hedge,

grabbing her sleeve as his legs scraped across the

ground, grit scratching at his calves.

'She's found us. Get inside the house!' Rory

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yelled. Amy dithered. 'Now!'

He ran to the nearest bay window, turning his head

away and flinching even before his elbow hit the

polished pane. There was a thud and tinkle of glass that sounded far too gentle for the pain Rory experienced as

the impact shot up his arm. Then he was bundling

Amy in through the splintered window frame as fast

as he could.

'What about the front door?' Amy squealed as she

tumbled onto a bare wooden floor.

'If it was locked, we'd have been dead before I broke

it down,' Rory responded as his hefty body was

cushioned by hers.

She heaved him off her and jumped to look out of

the window as a ripple of noise spread across the village.

Front doors slammed across Appletown, a silent

alarm had been raised and the villagers were

descending on their prey.

Rory scanned the room for anything useful but,

like the Sandersons' house, the lounge was furnished

only with an awful beige sofa and a modest television

set.

'What if someone had been in here?' Amy

shouted. 'We could've been walking into a trap!'

Rory threw up his hands in exasperation. 'Now is

not the time to be talking, dear! Just get out of the

back door now!'

They ran across the hallway towards the rear

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of the house, through the open-plan kitchen and

towards the large glass double doors that led out into

the back garden.

One of the doors was ajar.

The pair halted at the sound of a voice.

'You didn't tell me we had guests dear.'

'I didn't?' another voice replied from the

garden. 'Well, that must have been because I wasn't

expecting any.'

A woman stepped into view on the other side of the

glass panelling, the paisley-patterned picture of a

perfect housewife who was joined on her right by a

moustachioed, dungaree-wearing gardener, complete

with tanned skin, sleek black hair and a chest that

looked like it could house wildlife.

'Back!' Rory yelled.

But the front door was also blocked. Isley's dark

shape blotted out the light that should have streamed

through

the

frosted

windows,

and

a loud

hammering began as her fists beat out a deadly

rhythm on the wood panelling outside.

Rory looked at Amy smugly. 'See, it was

locked.'

But Amy was already pounding up the stairs to

the floor above. She turned at the top of the landing

to see Rory still dawdling in the hallway.

'What are you doing?' she yelled.

Rory looked up at her then dashed through the

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open door to the lounge. There was a crash that made

Amy flinch; the sound of glass cascading to the

kitchen floor as the sinister couple switched off their

house-proud personas. In the confusion, she barely

registered that the drumbeat on the front door had

ceased.

Rory returned a moment later, struggling up the

stairs towards the frightened girl and swaying under the weight of the bulky television set. He chipped its wood

cladding on the banister as he clambered upwards.

'Find a bedroom with lots of furniture, we'll barricade

ourselves in!' His voice was muffled by the large object.

'What's that for? Passing the time while they try to

break in?' Amy was scared and confused.

'Just get in a room and get ready. I'm going to buy

us some time.' He reached the last stair and turned

just in time to see the housewife and her husband

standing impassively at the foot of the staircase,

heads tilted in unison, regarding the young man with

a piercing gaze.

'There really is no point to all this fussing, young man.'

The woman placed a brown-slippered foot onto the

first wooden step. 'You're only wasting your own time.'

She rested a hand on the banister and began to climb

the stairs as if embarking on the most mundane of

upstairs tidying.

Rory hefted the television over his head,

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stepping backwards in an attempt to keep his

balance. He locked his arms and heaved the set in a

wide arc that sent the heavy wooden box crashing

down onto the surprised head of the android. The

vacuum tube imploded, and Rory made a vain

attempt to shield his face with his sleeve from the

shards of glass and wood that streamed outwards

from the figure as she was sent sprawling back

towards her husband by the force of the blast. Some

smaller splinters skipped through his fingers and Rory

screwed up his face as a sharp cut slashed across his

cheek, missing his eye by millimetres.

At the foot of the staircase, the woman clenched her

fist and, unflinchingly, began beating at the

wooden

frame

that

still

covered

her

face,

splintering it after only a few blows. The metal rivets

and panelling tumbled to the floor in a pile of sawdust

and scrap metal.

The woman turned her head once more to face the

shocked pair who stood open-mouthed only a few

metres above her. Amy gasped.

Where once had been the friendly face of a

housewife, with permed hair and laughter lines, there

was now nothing but a metal skull. The glass of the

television screen had shredded the rubber skin

completely, and sparking wires sprayed out from

between the steel bones. One of her gel-

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eyeballs was still in its socket, and it swivelled slowly to meet Amy's horrified gaze.

Casually, the husband tossed the remains of the

set back into the lounge and shoved his wife to one

side as what was left of the woman's hand felt roughly

about for the banister. But Amy was already being

bundled into a nearby bedroom, Rory slamming the

door shut behind them and leaping to grab the top

of a nearby wardrobe as he did so. His feet lifted

from the floor as he attempted to use the weight of

his body to tip it over across the frame.

Amy spotted a desk in the far corner and began

dragging it across, just as the wardrobe crashed into

place. Rory moved over to help her heave it onto the

top.

'This isn't going to hold them five minutes,' Amy

panted.

'Well, I'm out of other ideas,' Rory responded. 'They

don't seem to appreciate having their disguises

destroyed though; maybe they'll take the time to

devise an approach which doesn't involve them

losing half their skin.'

He was interrupted by the steady clump of feet from

the other side of the barricaded door as the husband's

heavy gardening boots made their way across the

landing.

'Then again...' Rory held up his hands. 'I'm

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probably wrong.'

There was the squeak of a door handle being

turned and the pair froze, eyes fixed on the silver bar

of metal. But it remained stationary.

'Next door.' Amy breathed.

She was right. There was a soft thud as the

bedroom door to their left was closed again gently, then the footsteps resumed until they shuffled to a halt right in front of the terrified couple.

Another squeak, and this time the handle

moved. It angled downwards slowly and there was a

solid thump as the door encountered the wardrobe a

second later. It rattled in frustration for a second,

then the handle slipped slowly back into its original

position.

Rory sighed as the footsteps began to retreat down

the stairs once more. 'Then again...' He mimicked

his previous gesture. 'I could be right after all.'

'Why do I always panic a little bit whenever you

say things like that?' Amy's tone was chiding, but she

wriggled under her fiancé’s arm and held him tightly.

'I hope you're not talking about those frozen pies

we had in September,' Rory replied half-heartedly.

'Because if you are, it's your fault for throwing the

packaging out before I had a chance to read the

cooking instructions.' He paused. 'And

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you were only sick for a day - I had to take the week

off work.'

Amy grunted in reply as her attention was

diverted by Rory's arm, hung lazily over her

shoulder. She grabbed it with both hands and

examined it animatedly. 'Babes, you're bleeding!' she

cried.

Rory looked down. 'Oh yeah,' he said,

inspecting his arm as if seeing it for the first time. The striped sleeve of his shirt had been shredded by

fragments of the television and beneath the tattered

fabric his forearm was criss-crossed with gently weeping red scratches. 'I didn't notice that before.' He screwed up his face. 'It hurts like hell!' He winced as he gently drew the cuff away from his arm and licked his

thumb in a half-hearted attempted to clean himself

up.

Amy batted his faltering fingers away and took

over. 'We haven't got time for you to play the

squeamish nurse, Rory. Grit your teeth and imagine

you're bandaging up any other patient - and do it

quickly!'

Rory raised an open palm and made a face as if she

were stupid. 'And what exactly am I supposed to tie it

up with?'

In response, Amy grabbed a handful of his shirt

up near his right shoulder and yanked hard,

ripping off what was left of the sleeve in

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one smooth stroke. She pressed the improvised

bandage into his hand. 'There, maybe now you'll stop

considering grass stains to be a big issue.'

Rory slumped to the floor to tend to his wound as

Amy slotted her head through a gap between the desk leg

and the wardrobe to listen at the door. He grunted as he tugged the bandage tight and began winding it quickly

around the bloodied area.

'Is that you?' Amy asked suddenly.

'Is what me?' Rory looked up.

'That smell.'

'What? No!' He paused. 'Wait, what kind of

smell?'

Amy wrinkled her nose. 'It smells like...' She mulled

the scent over for a second. 'Burning,' she decided

finally.

Rory hopped to his feet and strode over to her,

quickly grabbing the edge of the wardrobe and

tugging it away from the frame by the tiniest of

fractions. A sinister grey curl seeped out from under

the door.

He ran to the window. 'Blimey. They don't muck

about, do they?'

Amy joined him. 'They've set fire to the house. The

whole house!'

'Guess it's easier than trying to break in,' Rory

muttered.

Spread out across the street in front of them

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was a sprawling group of villagers. Orange light

flickering across their faces in a manner that

reminded Amy of her first bonfire night.

She looked down into the front garden, and saw

with little surprise that Isley and the house's occupants were looking up at her, petrol canisters swinging

nonchalantly from their hands like so many

watering cans. The metal head of the housewife

spotted the pair's frightened faces as they looked down

at her single eye from their attic room and, with one

hand holding her husband's, she reached up another

to wave a fond farewell. A few minutes later and all three of their heads were obscured by thick black smoke as it

billowed out from the downstairs windows, heralding

the red gobs of flame that hissed and crackled their

way upwards across the dry wooden cladding of the

building towards them.

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Chapter

9

Washington DC, 28 February 1981

The inquiry hearing lasted six hours and thirty-seven

minutes and Albert and Geoff sat quietly on the front

bench as the independent tribunal heard the multitude

of testimonies that were brought forward. Their

faces displayed no emotion when the room was

dimmed and the slides were projected onto the back

wall of the courtroom. With each new photograph of

each new body, they remained silent, staring

impassively into the middle distance. Eventually the

judge could bear it no longer and, following an

impressive speech regarding the lack of respect for

human life displayed by certain people in certain

sectors

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of the military, she adjourned the hearing.

Albert hauled himself painfully out of his tight

wooden seat, shaking the cramp from his legs, and Geoff

patted a comforting hand on his shoulder as he stood

to join him. Together, the pair walked resolutely from

the courtroom, heads held high, their eyes refusing to

meet the gaze of the crowd.

The ornately carved wooden doors slammed

ominously behind them, breaking the silence and

sparking a flurry of chatter from the courtroom inside.

An angry hubbub of dissatisfaction and protest - the

tribunal wanted their heads.

Both men turned quickly down a side corridor that

opened into a small, glass-walled courtyard at the

centre

of

the

Halls

of

Justice

and

swore

simultaneously.

'Well that was a bit of a mess,' Geoff growled.

Albert snorted with derision. 'Yes, Geoff, yes it was a

bit of a mess. A bit of a mess that we could have

avoided if you hadn't pushed the project into a dry run

without proper analysis of the combat programming.'

'Oh, what, so it's my fault they slashed the

budget?' Geoff gestured to himself sarcastically. 'I'm

sorry, I thought I could trust the man whose job it was to program the damned thing, the man who claimed it would work because he was so insanely brilliant.'

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Albert began pacing up and down the

courtyard, the flagstones creating a circular path for

him as he kicked at the bordering plants that hung

limply out of their flowerbeds.

'It was programmed to destroy anyone who was

aware that it was an android - that's what you wanted!

What's a few civilian casualties here and there, when

your precious US military technology needs to be kept

top secret?'

'Fifty corpses isn't a "few here and there", it's a massacre! God knows how they're going to square this

with Cuba.'

'Oh yeah, and you'd know about that wouldn't you?

How many innocent civilians became collateral

damage on your watch? Or is Vietnam different

somehow?'

There was silence for a second, and Albert

realised he'd gone too far. His fears were quickly

confirmed as he found himself violently shoved

backwards and pinned to the glass window that

looked out onto the courtyard with the full force of

the colonel's strength. The window cracked.

'Don't you dare bring up Vietnam.' Geoff was so filled with rage that his voice faded to a harsh whisper.

'You have no idea of the things I've seen, the things I

had to do, the things that were done to me and my

men. Sitting in your ivory tower with your pet

projects - no wonder you've lost

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perspective. That is if you ever had any.'

It took all of Albert's strength to push the soldier off, and when he next spoke his anger matched the

colonel's. 'Oh so that's how it is, is it? That's how you see me?'

Geoff was silent.

'And I suppose we're conveniently forgetting that

it's your involvement in my work that's keeping you from an enforced retirement package, old soldier?

What are you, pushing 50? What exactly would you

be without me? What exactly do you think you have left to offer the people in there?' He pointed back

towards the courtroom, and Geoff found his hard

stare unavoidable. 'I've been your virtual prisoner

for three years. My existence wiped from the records,

my every move monitored; the knowledge in my

head a permanent green light for execution if I

even think about talking to someone. Perspective is not something I have much access to.'

'You didn't seem that fussed when we were

writing you a fat paycheque every month,' said Geoff.

'And what was I going to spend it on? My

girlfriend? My wife? My kids? I virtually sleep in the

workshop so a house was out of the question.'

'There

were

the

inter-departmental

singles

nights.'

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NUCLEAR TIME

Albert laughed bitterly. 'Oh great, yeah thanks, that's

fantastic, cheers, Dad. You might as well pick a

girlfriend for me yourself. It's pathetic.'

'As pathetic as building your own girlfriend?'

The words hit Albert like a slap in the face, and

he faltered for a minute before continuing. 'Isley is the only thing that is mine; her face, her body, her mind

are the only aspects of my life that I have control over.

You've taken everything else from me, every single

thing, and now we can't go back - there's no way out

of this! You took my life away six years ago on that

beach in California and burned it, and then this was my life. This was my life because you gave me nothing

else, Geoff - nothing! And now even that's gone now.

You might as well have put a bullet through my brain

and saved me the effort!' Tears were flying down

Albert's cheeks now as he waved his hands about in

anger and frustration, his shirt already soaked with

sweat.

Geoff just stood there in silence and weathered the

abuse until, finally, the scientist dropped to the

ground, cradling his head in his hands and sobbing

uncontrollably.

'I'm sorry,' was all Geoff could say. He slumped to

his haunches and put his arms around Albert's heaving

shoulders. 'We'll sort it out. I'll sort it out. I promise.'

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Albert slumped back and rested his head against the

side wall, looking upwards into the bright rectangle

of sky above his head, the evening sun dipping down

below the roof arches. He breathed in slowly and

exhaled deeply. His eyes were red and raw, but there

was still a spark shining dimly amongst the tears.

'So...' Albert breathed again. 'What do we do now?'

Geoff straightened up once more and followed

Albert's gaze upwards. He sighed. 'We've been

ordered to go and oversee the clean-up operation.

They're getting rid of everything, destroying the

evidence. Officially the last six years never existed.'

Albert wiped an eye with his palm. 'And how

do they intend to do that? We've got fifty

operational models in the basement. They're

virtually indestructible.'

'Ever heard of Appletown?' Geoff asked.

Albert shook his head. 'Where is it?'

'Colorado. It's an old nuclear testing site; they're giving us the go-ahead for one more nuke. Off the record, of

course.'

The scientist cracked a haunted smile then, 'Ha,

don't ever let me accuse you of not being thorough.'

He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, nowadays

almost completely grey. 'But what

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NUCLEAR TIME

about the Limited Test Ban treaty? It's not going to be

easy covering up a mushroom cloud.'

'President Reagan's administration has decided the

Cold War needs some hotting up - no more skulking

and stockpiling, it's time to show that we won't be

intimidated. The President feels this is a good enough

justification to test the boundaries of what the USSR will put up with. We're asking for trouble, deliberately.'

Albert exhaled slowly. 'Jeez.'

Geoff smiled back. 'Jeez indeed.'

117

Chapter

10

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 3.28 p.m.

The desert had been swept clean across a quarter-mile

radius from the edges of Appletown, and the Doctor

was glad of his boots as he stepped over the border

and into the rough wasteland. Here the rocks were

bigger, the ground more uneven and the undisturbed

sand held a darker hue than the recently overturned

land that made up the foundation of the nuclear test

site.

Out in the open, the scorching heat of the sun was

heavy and oppressive and the deep blue sky hung

dense and low. The Doctor had long since slung his

jacket over his shoulder, but the itchy fabric against

his back was still making him

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DOCTOR WHO

sweaty and uncomfortable. He unhooked a button on

his shirt and shielded his brow to peer into the

shimmering blur of the horizon. The ground rippled

like water, but he was sure that the darker streaks of a building were beginning to appear in the golden haze.

Spurred on by this encouraging brown smudge, the

Doctor resumed his saunter, whistling a jaunty

tune and watching in mild wonder as small fragments of

gravel bounced along the ground toward his boots

with each step that he took.

Then time stuttered once more.

The Doctor yelled in agony as every molecule in

his body was shunted forwards half a metre without

any intermediate shift, and he choked on air that

was suddenly being sucked into his mouth rather

than exhaled. He doubled over in pain, stumbling

backwards as his boots scuffed the coarse ground.

Another shift, gentler this time, and the

Doctor's personal time was restored to its anti-

clockwise progression. He placed a hand on his

tender stomach. Things were only going to get worse

as he continued — the more he interacted with the

world around him, the more the universe would protest.

But he didn't have a choice.

He resumed his walk once more, moving

briskly to hide the shake in his legs, from himself

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NUCLEAR TIME

more than anything. The horizon maintained its

constant line as the minutes ticked inexorably away,

and the Doctor found himself wishing for the slope

of a distant mountain range to slide into view,

something to show that he was making progress.

He glanced over his shoulder. Appletown was

no more than a reflected cascade of sunlight behind

him, and in the dead silence of the desert he began to

feel rather lonely.

He

found

a

boulder

further

along,

and

unceremoniously dumped his jacket on it before

slumping onto its vaguely horizontal surface. He

reached down to retrieve a spray of brush that had

been snapped off its parent stalk. It was black and ashy, reforming into a more organic-looking composition as

he rubbed his fingers along the stalk. He moved to put

it in his mouth and have a chew and then thought

better of it. He fumbled in the inner pocket of his jacket and whipped out the sonic screwdriver.

The familiar crackle of its Geiger setting made him

gingerly return it to the ground, the stalk

reattaching to the bush as he moved it closer.

Fascinating. If he could already see the effects of his

actions before he caused them, did that mean that he

was obliged to follow a particular course? For these

moments, moving backwards through a

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universe of progression, was every minute detail of

his life mapped out before him? He rubbed his chin

and shivered at the implications, then patted the thick

cotton of his jeans with a loud series of slaps as if

announcing a change in mood.

He turned back in what he was sure was the

direction he had been walking in and opened his mouth

in surprise. Whilst he had been ruminating, three dark

green dots had appeared on the horizon, and now they

were steadily growing larger before his eager eyes. The

dots became blurs, and the blurs became rectangles,

and soon the atmospheric haze retreated to reveal three

large, camo-painted army trucks thundering in the

Doctor's direction.

'Civilisation!' The Doctor grinned.

But his face fell as the trucks approached,

reversing towards him at high speed. Their rear

hatches were cracked and broken, hinges dented and

deformed like the rest of the vehicle by a spattering

of bullet holes that covered their back ends.

The Doctor's hair spread across his face in the

gust that accompanied the vehicles as they sped

past him in the direction of Appletown, the

unfastened ends of their covering tarpaulins snapping

and cracking along the metal side panels. The

soldiers in the cabins looked at him wearily as they

drew alongside - a tired sadness

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NUCLEAR TIME

like they were too exhausted to care but thought they

should at least pretend. The Doctor rubbed his nose

and hoped that the dark brown stains that streaked

the green paintwork of the trucks were only rust, then

turned and continued on his way. He had no desire to

return to Appletown just yet.

It was half an hour later when the Doctor checked his

watch once more, hopping awkwardly from foot to

foot in an attempt to gauge the length of his shadow

against the position of the sun against the hands that

ticked across the gold-plated timepiece.

Roughly he jammed his thumb into the air,

blotting out the sun, and felt some consolation in

the discovery that his personal time line was running

neither faster nor slower than the world around him; a

perfect negative progression. The Doctor wasn't

entirely sure whether that was a positive thing or not.

He checked behind himself, and a smile spread across

his face as he spotted the familiar shimmer of the

trucks returning from their excursion to the town.

'About time!' he shouted, 'I was getting lonely. Now,

how about a lift?'

Dark eyes fixed firmly on the reversing convoy he

began sidestepping swiftly from side to side,

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trying to line himself up with the approaching

vehicles. His gaze alighted on a faint set of tyre

marks a few metres to his right and, with a hop and

a step, he planted himself firmly between the

tracks. Triumphantly he raised his arms and began

gesticulating wildly in an attempt to alert one of the

drivers to his presence.

The trucks roared ever closer and the Doctor began

to splutter as engine fumes coalesced out of the

atmosphere around him, dust blowing away from the

markings on either side defining the tracks as they

approached. But still they made no sign of

acknowledgement,

continuing

to

approach

at

considerable speed.

His face fell. 'Middle of the desert, in a hurry,

weapons testing site, and the fact that to them I must

appear to be waving goodbye...' The right-hand vehicle

was almost upon him now, a rapidly diminishing gap of

only a few metres. 'Not exactly the kind of situation

where you'd need to check your mirrors!'

He leapt into the air as high as he could as the

clanking back panel of the truck slammed into him,

long fingers grasping for a handhold on the camo-

painted wood. He hooked his elbows over the edge

and hung on for dear life as his boots kicked

dangerously close to the rocky ground that was now

hurtling past beneath his feet.

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There was a rough jolt as one of the wheels

glanced a particularly large boulder and the Doctor found himself flipped into the rear of the truck, his stomach

catching the panel as he toppled into the shadow of the

covered compartment, winding him. It took several

empty gasps for his lungs to kick back into action

and he gulped in great mouthfuls of stale air as he

rolled slowly onto his back and cradled his head in his

hands.

Eventually he opened his eyes and immediately

wished he hadn't. So he closed them again.

Cautiously, he reopened one eye.

Standing over him, impossibly still, swaying gently

with the motion of the truck, were seventeen citizens of Appletown, and in his direct line of sight was Mr

Sanderson.

The truck lurched again and the Doctor slid across

the floor, grabbing the man's pinstriped trouser leg to

halt himself. It felt warm and soft to the touch - too

human for comfort - and he snapped his hand away

quickly, wiping it on his jacket as he swayed slowly to

his feet.

His face drew level with the man he would

dismantle nearly two hours from now. 'Yeah,' he

muttered, half to himself and half to the impassive figure.

He jutted his jaw and stared into the grey-green gel-

eyeballs as they blinked gently. 'Sorry about that,' he

finished.

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DOCTOR WHO

Absently, he lifted his hand to his neck and began

to scratch. Then he stuck a couple of fingers down his

collar and rubbed down his collarbone, and his other

hand soon joined it as the Doctor began to scratch

himself all over.

'Urgh!' he declared. 'I'm all itchy!' With a

concerted effort he stopped scratching and drew his

fringe away from his face. 'Why am I itchy? I'm not

usually itchy, am I? I'm far too busy to worry about

being itchy all the time.' He spread his palms, then flipped them face down in front of him and began to rotate

slowly, watching intently as the hairs on the backs of

his hands lifted gently and moved ever so slightly. He

stopped as he turned to face the rear of the truck. 'An

electromagnetic field,' he murmured.

He strode over to the back wall of the driver's cabin

and yanked open a metal hatch. Inside was a large coil

of metal wrapped around a series of blinking tubes

that lined a large iron core.

The Doctor screwed up his face as the itchiness

increased even further and whistled through his teeth.

'Phew, that's one serious bit of kit for the eighties.' He turned to the nearest figure. 'You're an expensive lot

to maintain, aren't you? Don't you know there's a

recession on?'

The figure snapped its hand up and slapped the

Doctor's hand away from the panel in an

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NUCLEAR TIME

awkward motion. The Doctor ducked out of

instinct, yelping in pain as he knocked the open hatch

closed to avoid the second blow. But the blow didn't

come. The Doctor squinted into the shadow at the

sunken face that looked back at him. 'Hold on a

minute.' The sonic appeared in his hand, emitting a

sharp burst of emerald light. 'You're not an android.'

He flipped the device in his hand and examined the

catch. 'You're one hundred per cent human being!

Why are you in a truck full of killer robots?' He

paused for a second. 'Hold on, why am I in a truck full

of killer robots?' He shook the thought from his head

and refocused his attentions on the human.

The man stared at him blankly before uttering a string

of incomprehensible syllables and slumping back onto

the wooden plank that stood in for a seat along the

edges of the truck.

The tarpaulin covering of the vehicle flapped loosely

at the edges, and the Doctor examined the figure in the

brief shards of sunlight. Grey hair, grey eyes, a dirty

brown tie that matched a dirty brown-checked shirt,

crumpled beneath a grimy lab coat that must surely

once have been white. This man had been through

hell.

Realisation dawned slowly on the Doctor, as the

previous exchange between his companions flooded

his mind. Albert.

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'Oh,' he said slowly. 'Oh dear.'

He stood there for a minute, unsure what to do.

Without any means to communicate he was at a loss,

but Albert looked at him with a mournful familiarity

that made the Doctor assume he might come to know

him better. He certainly hoped so.

'All right, budge up, then.' The Doctor shoved his

hands in his jacket pockets as he slid the man across the bench so that he could sit down. 'Oof, that's better.' He wiggled his boots out in front of him. He hadn't realised just how cramped his feet had become during the long

walk. He turned to his companion. 'Right. Er...

Right,' he finished limply.

He let the motion of the truck wash over them for a

while, gently rocking from side to side and watching

as the grey shapes of buildings dawned on the horizon

through the open rear of the truck, like a film in a

darkened movie theatre. Finally, he decided he could

stand the tension no more.

'Oh, c'mere!' he said to the scientist, wrapping his

arm around the man's thin shoulders and hugging

him tightly to him. 'Thanks. Thanks for helping my

friends escape. If you did. I'm sure you did.' He choked and looked at Albert with eyes that were tired of

looking at death and turning away. 'And thanks for

being here, so that I could tell you that.'

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There was a grinding squeal and the Doctor broke

away from the scientist, turning to discover that the

truck had halted. Huge corrugated iron doors loomed

ahead, blotting out the light, and he realised that

they had arrived at the military outpost.

The gates began to shudder, the noise swiftly

drawing into a loud clang and they began to swing

rapidly open at the hands of a group of soldiers who

began chaining them to hastily erected posts. The

Doctor could hear the accompanying trucks reversing

into position around him, and he pushed carefully

through the static bodies until he reached the wooden

panelling at the rear of his own vehicle. A swift hop and he was over the side, crunching to the ground with

ease.

In response, the soldiers lazily drew their

weapons up to their faces, aiming at the Doctor down

the barrel of a series of large and intimidating rifles.

'Oh dear,' said the Doctor. 'What will I do now?'

He was cut off by what he assumed was the loud

barking of orders, no doubt to enter the truck he had

just exited.

'Yes, yes. I complied, I went quietly, no

problemo, relax.'

He walked forward, into the shadow of the

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compound, keen eyes examining the handful of men

who backed away in front of him, guns still trained,

and he realised that they were shaking.

'I have a very bad feeling about this.'

The Doctor pulled his jacket tighter. Something at

the back of his mind was beginning to panic about the

dust and grime that had started to coat the tweed as

he patted the material down. He ignored the clanging

from behind him as another squad of soldiers began

to unload the cargo from the truck; docile citizens

lined up and were carefully unticked from a checklist.

The vista in front of him was much more terrifying.

As they edged backwards, in time with his steps,

the Doctor could see that his guards were seriously

injured. One of them could barely walk, staggering

whenever weight was applied to his right foot, dark

patches on his torn trouser leg, flapping over a

seeping bullet wound.

The man in the centre was no better off; slowly

unwrapping a bandage from around his head. And

the other soldiers, their faces blackened and bruised,

their uniforms crumpled and torn; all of them had

suffered horrendously.

The Doctor refocused his gaze to his

surroundings, dreading what he knew was coming into

focus as his eyes adjusted to the low light.

Sprawled all over the compound, great pools

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NUCLEAR TIME

of crimson soaking the sandy ground around them,

were the bodies of over three dozen dead soldiers.

131

Chapter

11

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 2.00 p.m.

'Yes, yes. No, sir. We're working as fast as we can.'

Geoff screwed up his face in frustration at the tiny

voice of authority that crackled through the speaker

of a huge plastic mobile phone he had awkwardly

stuck between his shoulder and his ear. In one hand

he held a very large wad of papers bound in a pale

blue folder with a biro jammed between two of his

fingers, while his free hand scratched idly at the

balding pate beneath his itching official hat.

'Look, sir, speaking freely for a moment, it

frankly doesn't make a difference what's going on

over there; it's impossible to move any quicker

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DOCTOR WHO

than we're already doing. The paint's still drying on

the houses for God's sake, and we can't afford enough

electromagnetic emitters to move the androids any

quicker without risking a trigger. There are too many

dead zones they have to pass through as it is, and we

have no idea if the village will actually work.'

He scratched one last time then tore the cap off in

frustration, hurling it at the thick glass of the

observation window. There was a soft bang and it

ricocheted onto the large foldout table that was pushed

up against the wall. Pinned roughly to the

unvarnished tabletop was a large map, the majority of

which was almost completely blank - there was just a

large red felt-tipped 'X' scrawled in the middle of it,

surrounded by a village plan printed in faint blue

rectangles. Even the grey contour lines of the

tediously

flat

landscape

seemed half-hearted,

taking a back seat to the compass lines and trajectory

maps that had been imposed precisely and brutally

over the top.

Geoff slapped his folder roughly onto the map

and, with a swift movement of his knuckles, brought the

biro into his thumb and forefinger to write a

humourless You are here in the lower corner of the diagram.

'No, no,' he continued into the phone. 'There were

the funds. You just didn't want to allocate

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NUCLEAR TIME

them to a project that was terminating.' Another pause.

'I am fully aware of how much a nuke costs, but that

wasn't my decision, so you can either have this done

quickly or you can have it done safely. I don't need to

remind you of the security risks involved if it goes

wrong.'

The voice on the other end of the phone

increased in volume, and Geoff winced, hurriedly

reaching up and pulling the handset away from his

ear.

'These are my men, sir! I'm not going to put their

lives in any more danger than I have to!'

A lower, more threatening tone accompanied the

response.

'Yes, well, a lot of things will probably happen after

this is over, but they are my men for now, and until I am relieved of the responsibility I will do it my way. Yes, sir. Goodbye.'

There was a dull thud as the mobile was

slammed down onto the table, closely followed by Geoff's elbows as he slumped into his chair and sunk his head

in his hands. The folder was jammed underneath his left

arm and he elbowed the wad of papers onto the floor to

clear himself some space. He hadn't eaten all day, but

his stomach was now too painful for him to even

consider filling it.

He rocked backwards, pushing his palms up and

over his face into his hair and playing with

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DOCTOR WHO

the wispy strands over his bald spot once more. His

ashen face was bathed a warm orange by the

daylight from outside, tinted through the safety

glass. The sun might have been hidden by the

slanted corrugated roof that overhung the view, but

he could still feel its warmth in the claustrophobic

atmosphere of the room.

The observation tower stood three storeys high, tall

enough to look out over the huge, barbed-wire-topped

walls that marked the boundaries of the compound.

The desert glow beyond resembled a sickly orange fog

and Geoff screwed up his face in disgust.

Without looking, he reached down to his belt and

unclipped his walkie-talkie, turning his head slightly to speak into the grated microphone. 'Albert, I don't

care what you're doing, I want you up here now!'

There was a crackle, then a response. 'What's the

problem?'

'Don't ask what the problem is, just get up here and

I'll tell—'

Geoff's attention was diverted once again by the

view through the glass. Was that a man on a bicycle

riding into the desert? He shook his head and looked

again.

'Hello? You broke off?'

Geoff blinked and it was gone. 'Too twitchy,' he

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NUCLEAR TIME

growled. 'Gotta stop doing this.' He thumbed the

button again. 'Just get up here.'

'Lord. This is a bit dramatic, isn't it?'

Geoff spun around at the sound of Albert's voice as

the scientist gestured to the orange observation glass.

'It's to stop us going blind,' he responded. Albert

nodded slowly. 'Does it stop us getting cancer, too?'

Geoff gave a harsh laugh. 'Cancer's too long-term

for the government to take the blame. They'll no doubt

tell us it's our diet when we're all on life support in ten years.'

Albert yanked a half-eaten sandwich from his

pocket and took a large bite. 'What's the deal then?' he asked between chews. 'Is the mood lighting making

you feel all urgent again?'

'Yeah, you won't be joking after you hear this.' 'Ruin

my day.'

'There's a Russian spy plane just passed over the west

coast, heading our way. They've obviously heard

something's going on.'

'I thought that was the point.' Albert took

another mouthful.

'Yeah, well let's not even start on the political mess

we've been stuck in the middle of. They were meant

to arrive after the nuke went off. Now

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they're early, so Command wants us to get a move on.'

Albert didn't look as agitated as Geoff had

hoped. 'Did you tell them it's not like we've been sitting around here doing nothing all morning?'

Geoff didn't reply, instead flicking his gaze to the

scientist's sandwich and back. He raised an eyebrow.

'What? I'm not meant to be doing everything

myself! Things don't stop just because I have

something to eat.'

'I didn't say anything.'

'You didn't need to.' He went to toss the crust into a

bin. 'I'm not hungry now, anyway.'

'Whatever.' Geoff reached for the radio again. 'I'm

telling the men to start putting the androids on the

trucks.'

Albert's face fell for a second, and he quickly

disguised his look of dismay with a cough and a

fumble in his pockets. He brought out a pen and

clicked it a few times before realising that there was

nothing for him to do with it and put it away again. 'Er, really? Now?' He choked for a second.

Geoff looked at him suspiciously. 'Yes. That's not

going to be a problem is it?'

'I just... I just had some things I wanted to do.' Albert thought of something suddenly. 'Besides the EM field

hasn't been set up in the courtyard.'

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'They've been in the transport fields long

enough; it'll take them at least half an hour to come out of reset - plenty of time to load the trucks. Just make sure the soldiers don't say anything stupid.' He paused,

reluctant to talk budgets with Albert. 'You do know

that the EM generators cost about three times as

much as the village? At least this way we'll be able to

scrape a few nickels back on the parts if we don't set

them up. To be completely frank with you, we need the

brownie points with command. Our futures aren't

looking good.'

Albert opened his mouth as if to protest, but

decided against it. He nodded sullenly.

Geoff turned back to the radio. 'Action stations. Action stations. All personnel to the courtyard. We're going

to load the trucks. Watch your mouths out there -

there's no EM field, so the less the androids hear, the

more likely it'll be that we all live through this.'

A scattering of 'Yes, sir' responses came

crackling back, and the colonel returned his

attention to the scientist who stood hunched in his lab

coat by the door.

'You will tell me if there's something wrong,' Geoff

said, his voice hinting at a softer undertone. 'This

operation is too delicate to have you going rogue on

me.'

Albert smiled. 'Oh I'm not going anywhere.'

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Suddenly the walkie-talkie screeched once more,

and Geoff rolled his eyes. 'Is there a problem, Post Five?'

he snapped. 'Need a diagram?'

'Uh, no, sir,' the timid sergeant responded. 'Just

thought I'd inform you that we have a houseguest.'

Geoff looked puzzled. 'A houseguest?'

'Yes sir. Seems to have come from Apple- er, I mean

the village.'

There was a pause.

'On a bicycle,' the sergeant finished

sheepishly.

The relief Geoff felt for discovering that he wasn't

hallucinating was overshadowed by the surprise

Geoff felt for discovering that he wasn't hallucinating.

'A bicycle?' he echoed.

'Yes, sir. And that's not the only strange thing about

him, sir.'

'Surprise me.'

'I think he's foreign. He can't speak properly and

he walks all... funny.'

Geoff sighed. 'He sounds like the worst spy I've

ever heard of.'

'But he's not a spy, sir.'

'No?'

'He has an American Health and Safety Pass —

Access All Areas.'

'Sergeant, such a thing doesn't even exist. Who

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ever heard of a Health and Safety officer with

complete military clearance? You know what? Don't

answer that. Just bring him up.' Geoff released his

thumb from the call button angrily and dropped the

walkie-talkie into a nearby paper bin. It rattled

satisfyingly in the tin container. 'I am surrounded by

idiots,' he said, almost sadly.

Albert was silent, and Geoff turned to look at him

with such sadness in his eyes that the scientist thought he was going to cry.

'What have we done?' said Geoff.

'I don't know.'

'You know this means war, once the Russians spot

the nuke.'

'I know.'

Geoff welled up then stifled it quickly, sleeve across

his face before emitting an exhausted laugh. 'Not much

use for infiltration androids anyway, I guess, in that

case.'

Albert laughed in sympathy. 'No, I guess not. But

at least our part will be over when this is done.'

'Do you think it'll stay with us?'

'What?'

'The fact that we were here at the start. Do you think

we'll be able to forgive ourselves?'

Albert turned away, moving to look out of the

window. 'I never had a choice.'

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Geoff didn't respond and after a few seconds he

dropped to his haunches with an exasperated groan

and began gathering the papers that had spilled out

of his blue folder. From the middle of the file a

particular sheet slipped out and zigzagged away

across the floor. He reached out to grab it and, as he

turned the sheet over, he noticed that something had

been written on it. Scrawled roughly in chunky red

felt-tip, the message read I am living backwards through time. There is no point asking me any more questions. There was a gap then of a few lines before one final phrase.

I'm sorry.

'Strange,' Geoff muttered.

'What is?' Albert looked around. The colonel flipped

the sheet over in his hand but the rear was covered

merely in the same inscrutable typeface that the other

small-print sections of his folder contained. The

scientist peered over his shoulder.

'A joke?'

'Maybe, but this folder came straight to my

hands

from

the

Pentagon.

There

were

no

intermediaries.'

'Maybe it's a test to see if you actually read the whole thing. If it is, I don't think you've passed.'

Geoff placed the sheet carefully on the foldout table.

'Ridiculous.'

Albert began shifting restlessly. 'OK, well, if

that's everything, Geoff, I think I'd better get

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downstairs to do some overseeing.' He moved

towards the door.

'No, wait,' Geoff called after him. 'There is one more

thing.'

He moved over to a stark grey filing cabinet and pulled

out a bunch of keys, Albert watching him intently as

he fiddled, painfully slowly, through the collection

for the correct one. The drawer finally open, Geoff

reached inside and pulled out a parcel wrapped in

browning Christmas wrapping paper. 'Sorry,' he said

apologetically. 'It was the only paper left in the

house.'

He hefted it in his grip and Albert extended a hand

to take it, but Geoff didn't move. 'It's sort of a...

goodbye gift, y'see,' he began. 'Probably shouldn't

give it to you now, but it seemed appropriate given

the circum—'

A loud bang cut him off, and the door to the

observation deck slammed open, nearly striking the

scientist in the back as he hopped out of the way.

Geoff hurriedly pushed the package back into the

drawer and slid it closed. 'What... what is the meaning

of this?' he stammered guiltily. 'You can't just barge

into a confidential meeting!'

'Sorry, sir.'

It was the nervous sergeant. Geoff didn't know his

name, nor had he any wish to. He knew the men on

the base weren't really working for him;

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there was a greater agenda from a higher authority

driving their actions. 'We've brought you the, ah,

Health and Safety guy.'

Albert raised an eyebrow as a tall young man

hopped backwards into the room with astounding grace

for someone who couldn't see where he was going. Bow

tie, drainpipes, tweed jacket, fancy hair - he would

have blended in well in the hipper areas of Michigan,

but as a Health and Safety government official he

looked frankly ludicrous.

The man turned to spot the pair, waving a swift hello

accompanied by the strangest sound the scientist

and the colonel had ever heard.

'Yibtoog. Yeerrur yah nee meiy,' the man

intoned solemnly.

Albert looked at Geoff. Geoff looked at Albert.

'Anything?'

'Nope.'

The scientist shoved his hands into his pockets and

slipped around behind the sergeant and his two

guards. He grinned over their heads. 'Well, good luck

with that, then. I'll leave you to it!'

'Wait, where are you going?'

Albert considered lying, but he was in a hurry. 'I've

got my own goodbyes to make,' he said, before

closing the door behind him.

Geoff didn't have time to respond. He turned to

find the strange man standing over by the map

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on his table. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

he growled, stepping over to haul the man away. But

when he realised what the stranger was doing he

stopped in his tracks, hand resting on the nearby

chair.

The man had picked up the sheet of paper. He

inspected it thoroughly for a few moments before

carefully taking the red felt-tip from the far corner of the table and beginning to trace over the message scrawled

on the back.

Geoff raised his eyebrows in shock as the

writing began to vanish with each stroke of the pen. A

moment later and the paper was blank, the felt-tip

clattering to the lino floor. The man turned to point at him, then at the backs of his knees, a comical look of

surprise on his face. He motioned to the chair. 'Ewe tat zow?' he said.

'I am so not in the mood for this.' Geoff closed his

eyes in anger. 'What's that, Mr Crazy?' he said,

mimicking the Doctor's gesture. 'You want the

chair?' He heaved it swiftly and violently. 'Well, take

a seat why don't you?' The chair slammed across the

room into the man as he spun around. The plastic

seat hit his legs and he dropped suddenly and

unexpectedly onto the seat, his face screwed up in

pain. The soldiers standing at the back of the room

exchanged glances, but the sergeant shook his head.

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'He's in control,' he said.

sednoo dnoad eye,' the man started

shouting mid-sentence. His voice was tinged with

frustration and sadness.

Geoff began pacing up and down in front of the

prisoner. 'I haven't got time for this, Mr Crazy,' he

snarled. 'So stop with the gobbledegook and start

talking.'

There was no response.

'Who's side are you on?' he yelled.

Still nothing.

'What are you doing here? Where are you

from?'

The stranger looked up at him impassively and

shrugged. Geoff broke.

'Where are you from? Where are you from? Where

are you from? Where are you from?!' Each demand

brought his face an inch closer to the man until he

could see flecks of his own spit on his prisoner's

cheeks.

The man slowly raised a hand and reached into the

inside of his jacket pocket to withdraw a thin leather

wallet. He flipped it open. 'Won?' he said.

'Health and Safety?' Geoff roared. 'Do you have any

idea what's going on here?' He drew back a clenched

fist, but the clack of the sergeant's boots as he stepped forward, ready to intervene, made him hesitate and

rethink.

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The man slapped the wallet closed and stuffed it

back inside the jacket, raising a finger as he did so

with a sharp exclamation of 'won eye'.

'I give up,' Geoff said rubbing the back of his jaw.

It ached from his explosion of anger. 'Take him

away.'

The sergeant stepped forward, sweat glistening on

his top lip. 'Er, where, sir?' he asked. 'Do you want us to let him go?'

'Of course I don't want you to let him go!' Geoff

snapped. 'If he's a spy then he knows too much, if he's a US citizen he definitely knows too much, and if he's not a US citizen or a spy then nobody will care what happens to him. Load him in the trucks with the

androids and return him to the village.'

'Are you sure? He'll die! Uh... you know he

doesn't exactly seem to be too with it. Sir.'

'Don't question me, soldier.' Geoff spat the last word.

He swivelled his head menacingly. 'You've missed the

party, sonny. There are too many deaths on my

conscience already from this project for me to be

swayed by a... freak. Maybe you should think about

how much you know about the classified nature of the work you're doing here before you start questioning

orders.'

The sergeant swallowed.

'Exactly,' Geoff continued. 'This isn't going to end

happily, I can tell you that right now. And if

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any of us -' He looked around the room at the other men -

'live to see tomorrow, then I suggest that you head

directly to the nearest church, because you'll have

been blessed my friends. And it will truly be a

miracle.'

'Yes sir,' the sergeant choked, snatching the

stranger's proffered hands as he stood up from his

chair and hauling him to the exit. The nearest soldier

grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

Suddenly, every man in the room froze.

'What on God's green earth is that?' Geoff

whispered hoarsely.

Drifting up from the steel staircase outside the open

door was the sound of screaming. There was a sharp

burst of gunfire that cut off abruptly, and then suddenly the alarm kicked in, a howling klaxon that made all

talk virtually impossible.

The soldiers thrust their palms against their ears,

and Geoff had to shout to make himself heard.

'They've been triggered!' he yelled. 'The

androids are on the loose!'

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Chapter

12

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 2.38 p.m.

Albert closed the door to the observation room as slowly as he felt was necessary to avoid arousing suspicion,

and his soft brown loafers barely made a noise as

he padded down the rough iron staircase to the

outpost below. Even at the bottom he could still hear

Geoff's roaring voice, and he smiled wryly to himself,

half in sympathy at the poor stranger and half in

relief that he wasn't in the same room to suffer the

colonel's wrath.

The shanty town of the outpost glistened in the

early afternoon sun as he walked through it. He was

surprised to see that there were still large groups of

men sitting around on the various crates

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and barrels that were strewn around the dusty

walkways between the hastily erected officers'

messes, soldiers' messes, sleeping quarters and

storerooms.

'Oi oi, chop chop!' He gave a sharp clap with his

hands drawing the attention of the stragglers as they

turned their heads lazily to look at him. 'No one's

waiting for you, so if you don't want to be in the

village when the nuke hits I recommend getting a move on!'

There were groans and moans as the men eased

themselves away from the shady metal walls and into

the harsh light, trailing behind the scientist as he

strode purposefully towards the unmarked transport

trucks that had been walled into the complex.

He paused at a particularly stubborn group who

were playing cards on the kegs behind the mess

and made a show of peering over the shoulder of the

closest man. 'Two aces, boys,' he said cheerfully. 'I'd

get out while you still can.'

The men threw down their cards in unison.

'Thanks a lot, sir, I was clearing up!' the lead player

protested, quickly grabbing the notes on the table

before any other members of the circle had a chance

to reclaim their cash.

Albert waved back at them over his shoulder

without looking round. 'Don't care!'

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His stride was too quick to be casual as he

rounded the corner to the parking lot, a tarmac

section of road that had been boxed in by the huge

imposing walls. The trucks had been positioned at

as much of an angle as possible. With their delicate

interiors and tyres that were certainly not fit for the

rocky terrain off the beaten track, it still meant a lot of awkward manoeuvring of the cargo to take it down the

covered interior corridor that led to the main courtyard, and the vans that would transport them on the final leg

of the journey.

Foldout steps had been lowered from the backs of

the vehicles, and a stifling hush had fallen on the

area, a stark contrast to the low chatter Albert had

experienced up until now. Silently, the future citizens of Appletown were being guided carefully down and out

into the open as if they were the most delicate things

imaginable. Only their basic motor functions were

active after so many hours of being bathed in the

interior EM fields of the trucks. Sweat dripped from

every soldier's brow, each of them fully aware that

one false move could be his last, and it was with a

gentle touch that Albert silently pushed through the

flanking guardsmen with their itchy trigger fingers.

He watched intently as his creations were

escorted to their deaths. Every one of them, every

personality, had been designed and created by

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him. There was Mr and Mrs Sanderson, the happily

married couple, Dave Jones the gardener, that

woman in the paisley dress who he'd modelled on

his mother - Miranda. The line began to ebb and, as

he finished counting the androids off in his head, he

knew that there was only one more citizen left to be

unloaded.

He tapped the nearby captain on the shoulder. 'I'll

take it from here,' he whispered.

The captain looked around sternly, before

recognising

the

scientist.

He

acknowledged

Albert's authority with a curt nod and moved aside.

'By the way, Captain, do you know where my

bag is? I think I left it in the driver's cabin. Do you

mind fetching it for me?' Albert used his most

disarming of smiles. The captain frowned, annoyed at

being ordered about by a civilian. 'Now please?'

Albert added. Without a word, the captain

disappeared around the front of the truck.

The interior of the vehicle was bathed in a soft red

glow that made the smooth metal walls feel close and

intimidating as Albert walked through the now-empty

racks where the androids had been hung for the duration

of their transportation. Only one was still occupied,

deep in the far corner of the structure where the

scientist knew she would

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be. He grimaced as he gently undid the clasps

around her wrists and let her fall softly onto his

shoulder.

'There there, Isley,' he whispered. 'Let's get you out

of this abattoir.' A gentle pressure on her neck and her motor functions re-engaged, allowing her to stand

without support. He took her by the hand, and

together they walked out of the lorry and into the

harsh sunlight where the captain was waiting

impatiently by the steps with Albert's shoulder bag.

Albert nodded appreciatively. 'Cheers.'

The remaining soldiers still stood at attention,

flanking either side of the route towards the central

courtyard. But rather than follow the escort, Albert

ducked to the right, pulling Isley with him. There was a quickly hushed chorus of protests, but the scientist

ignored them and fixed his eyes straight ahead as he

led the android to a small cluster of barrels in the

corner of the car park that semi-obscured the pair

from the platoon's condemning eyes.

He sat her on one of the small crates within the

semicircle and perched next to her, his long legs

making his knees bend awkwardly. 'Do you remember

who I am, Isley?' he asked carefully.

The android's head swivelled and turned

groggily. 'Hello, Albert,' she said.

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Albert's eyes watered. 'That's my girl,' he

whispered.

`Do you want to talk to me, Albert?' Isley's

intonation circuits had yet to reboot, despite the extra complexities and improvements of a system that had

been active for so much longer than all the others.

Her voice was flat but feminine and shocked Albert

with memories of the computer lab in Michigan over

eight years ago.

'Yes, Isley. Yes I do.' He reached for his bag and

snapped open the clasp to rummage inside. 'Now,

you're about to go on a long journey, sweetie. We're

going to take you to a brand new house, built just

for you.' He looked around nervously and lowered

his voice. 'You remember? Like the one we talked

about?'

'The one where you said we could live together and

mind our own business as long as everybody else

minded theirs.'

A tear rolled down Albert's bristled cheek. 'Yes,

exactly, Isley, that's the one. But you're going to

have to go there first, on your own, you understand?'

He sniffed loudly. 'But I'll see you later. I promise.'

Before the android could respond, Albert's

fingers closed around the object in his bag and he

smiled through his grief, drawing out a small metal

box wired to a pair of headphones. Gingerly,

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he took Isley's hands and turned them over before

ceremoniously placing the Walkman into her open

palms.

'Happy fifth birthday, Isley,' he said.

She examined the device impassively. 'My song?'

she enquired.

Albert held up his hand. 'Not this time. The

Walkman's only half the present - there's a new song for you today.' Another rummage in the bag produced a

small cassette tape. 'Now be careful with this,' he

continued. 'It's my only copy.'

Isley turned the plastic case over in her hand and

slipped it into the open slot of the player. She moved to place the earphones over her head as Albert had done

with her so many times before. Albert touched her

wrists gently before she could do so and carefully

rested the earphones back onto her shoulders.

'Not this time,' he said, reaching over to the box and

spinning up the volume dial before pressing play.

The tinny power chords of a piano cut through the

silence as the scientist stood up and proffered a hand

to his companion - an invitation to dance. She took it

solemnly.

Hand in hand, the pair walked together into the long

undercover walkway of the corridor. Strip lighting

flickered erratically above their heads,

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DOCTOR WHO

and the soldiers glared angrily at them from the

alcoves between the ribbed supports.

A pair of reinforced double doors swung open

in front of them just as the vocals kicked in, and Albert slid one foot forward in an atrocious attempt at a slide whilst making gun-fingers at his partner.

'Just a small town girl. Living in a l000nely

w000rld!' he sang as they moved through the

second gate.

The soldiers guarding the final doors that would

open

out

into

the

courtyard

looked

on

in

astonishment at the sight that confronted them. The

ageless young girl in her creator's souvenir Star Wars T-shirt, pale jeans and trainers, alongside the greying

scientist with his combed-back hair, spectacles and

lab coat made such a ridiculous pairing that one of

the men couldn't help but grin as they approached.

The scientist winked at him as he began an elaborate

air guitar display, legs bowed out sideways as he

strode forwards, strumming the air, his partner

nodding in time.

But the other guard was less impressed. He

scowled as he slid the huge bolt across the steel doors

and began to haul it open, revealing the large open space beyond, and the mass of cybernetic bodies that were

standing there.

Albert and Isley stepped towards the threshold.

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'A singer in a smoky room — the smell of wine and cheap

perfume!'

'Android lover,' the guard spat.

A second later he fell to the floor, his neck

snapped instantly.

Isley withdrew her hand. 'Gotcha,' she said coldly.

Albert had been two steps ahead of her when it

happened and turned back in horror, mirroring the

action of every single head in the courtyard, android

and human alike.

'He said android,' Albert whispered hoarsely,

speaking aloud the panicked thought of the

surrounding soldiers.

There was a hail of noise as every rifle in the

compound was cocked simultaneously and aimed

squarely at the suburban mass in the middle of the

dusty courtyard. The mass fanned out into a perfect

circle, facing their attackers head on.

Nobody moved.

Albert gently edged the door behind him closed as

Isley walked out in front of him. It squeaked painfully

in the silence.

Suddenly, someone broke. From up above, on the

wrought-iron balcony that spanned three-quarters of

the courtyard perimeter, a stream of bullets spasmed

wildly into the centre of the circle. Clouds of dust

pricked up around the android's

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DOCTOR WHO

feet as the bullets buried themselves in the dusty

ground.

But the citizens were too fast.

There was a blur of motion that made Albert feel sick

and suddenly, without any physical change, the

innocuous civilians switched over to their military

protocols, transformed instantaneously into killing

machines. Corduroy trousers covered piston legs as

they pounded into the stomachs of the nearest

soldiers, bonded titanium-alloy fists crushing human

arms as they tore the weapons from their weakened

grip, fingers still randomly twitching at the triggers.

Even Isley herself had disarmed the once-grinning

guard beside her and stood, feet planted firmly on the

ground as she raked the upper level with cold, precise

bursts whilst her victim writhed in agony on the floor.

Barely a bullet missed its target at the hands of his

creations.

Albert stumbled blindly through the panic, hands

waving at the air in protest as he begged the robots to

stop. The butt of a rifle smacked him in the back of the head and he was sent sprawling across the ground,

his body dragged several metres before he regained

awareness. Looking upwards and through grit-filled

eyes he could see Mr Sanderson standing over him,

casually ripping a magazine from the belt of a dead

soldier as his

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NUCLEAR TIME

body flew past him through the air. There was a soft

series of clicks as he reloaded and aimed the barrel

squarely at Albert's head.

'No.'

Albert flinched, but the bullet didn't come. He

opened his eyes to find Isley standing in the android's

place. He looked around, and spotted the man

stumbling backwards with some surprise at the force

of the shove the young woman had given him. But his

microchip brain was not built to bear grudges, and

tactical considerations soon took over as he swivelled

his head in search of a new target.

With one hand, Isley hauled the prone man into

the air, and pushed him into a corner where a small,

tarpaulin-covered object had been tucked away. 'Hide,'

she stated simply.

Albert cradled his head in his hands, confused more

than terrified. 'But why? You're not programmed to

save my life. I've known about you, what you are. I

built you! I've always known - surely that's all you

need to hear!'

Isley paused and tilted her neck. 'I know,' she said.

'But I need you.'

Then she turned away, the muzzle of her rifle

flashing almost immediately as she finished off a soldier mid-fall as his body plummeted from the balcony.

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Albert reached a hand to his cheek and

realised that he was blushing. 'I need you too,' he

whispered.

Then the alarms went off.

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Chapter

13

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 2.47 p.m.

Geoff cannoned onto the balcony just in time to dodge

a hail of bullets that sent him scrambling for cover behind a nearby crate. The nervous sergeant and his prisoner

joined him soon after.

'What happened?' He grabbed a pistol off a

nearby soldier who was desperately trying to patch

up a wound in his arm and fired off a few covering

shots.

'It was Dr Gilroy, sir,' the soldier panted through

clenched teeth. 'He was... singing or something.'

Geoff blanched. 'Albert did this?' But there was

no time to dwell. He turned to his comrade. 'Quick,

sergeant. Where's the EM generator?'

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'The what, sir?' The sergeant was shaking with fear,

jolting as bullets rattled on the underside of the steel floor beneath him.

'The EM generator! You must have been trained to

set it up!'

The sergeant pointed directly in front of where they

were crouching. 'In the crate, sir.'

That was all Geoff needed. A few well-placed shots,

and the padlock disintegrated. He tossed the weapon over to the sergeant and began clawing at the splintered

wood, tearing the front panel open. The interior was a

mess of wiring and bolts, but the familiar shape of the

iron core and its metal spiral were fully intact.

He began fiddling around inside, desperately

guessing at which wires needed to be hooked up to

which sockets, his calloused fingers unused to such

delicate movements. 'How do you switch this thing

on?' he growled.

'I don't know, sir.'

'I wasn't looking for an answer, soldier! I could have

guessed you wouldn't have a clue!'

The screams of his men below were lessening. There

were so few of them left now that even the soft groans

of pain were becoming audible. With a howl of

exasperation, Geoff stood up and kicked the machine,

hard.

It was then that he heard an entirely different

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noise altogether: a kind of soft, buzzing sound, like

that of a mechanical insect. He turned his head slowly to see the strange man with the strange clothes holding

a strange device - a hefty, bronzed tool with an emerald light at one end - which he was pointing at the

generator.

'Sabotage!' Geoff mouthed over the noise. He

turned quickly, grabbing the stranger and heaving

him over the iron railings with a brutal yell of

exertion. There was a dull thud as the body hit the

ground below, and Geoff braved a glance downwards

to inspect the damage. The man had landed

awkwardly but the drop hadn't been far enough to

injure him in any visible manner. Not that it

mattered anyway - the androids were already

surrounding his prone figure in preparation for the

coup de grace.

Geoff spun around and returned his attention to

the crate. It was humming now - the prisoner's device

had charged the mechanisms inside, overloading

the circuits so that the coil glowed a deep red.

It crackled.

Geoff felt like someone had just handed him a

grenade and pulled the pin. His mind flashed back to

Vietnam, and he had a sickening feeling of fragility, like his bones were hollow.

Mustering all the strength he could manage, he

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heaved the device up and into his arms until it was

balanced precariously on the edge of the rail, suddenly

overcome with a desire to get the device as far away

from himself as possible. He inched it forwards slowly

and felt the wood splinter further in his grip.

Below, forty-seven rifles were cocked instantly. Geoff

pushed one last time.

All eyes tracked the trajectory of the crate as it

plummeted down into the courtyard. It just missed

the stranger and shattered instantly.

Silence.

A smell of burning sawdust drifted lazily

through the stifling summer air as the shavings that

coated the heap of exposed metal began to smoulder.

Then the generator detonated.

The electromagnetic tsunami that ensued was

invisible, but every man in the room could feel it as

it radiated out from the ruined device at the speed

of light and crashed against the walls of the

courtyard with a violence that was expressed only in

the suddenly flopping figures of the androids. Like a

line of dominos, the future citizens of Appletown

stumbled and fell as their programming was brought

to an abrupt halt and a state of reset was resumed.

The sound of falling weapons and bodies

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pattered around the silent compound like a soft drizzle

as Geoff carefully pulled a handkerchief from his

pocket and wiped his eyes with a trembling hand.

The massacre was over.

'It was you.'

Time was of the essence, and Geoff had had no

time to sympathise with his wounded men as he'd

strode into the courtyard, a tight ball of fury, spitting orders in all directions. The survivors were allowed

only the most rudimentary of first aid before being set

to work, grouping the docile citizens in preparation for the embarkation before they recovered from the shock

of the reset.

The huge iron doors to the compound had been

opened and, silhouetted against the vast sandscape

beyond, the three army trucks hummed reassuringly

with the power of their own personal EM fields. A

cluster of soldiers gathered around them as they

checked off the populace, careful not to stray too far

from the dead zone, just in case.

Geoff fixed Albert with a stare that was filled more

with disappointment than anger.

'You killed my men. Thirty-seven soldiers dead, more wounded, and all because of your feelings for her.

Because you couldn't keep it professional. Yet again!'

He spat as he pointed at the young

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woman in the battered T-shirt as she was loaded into

a vehicle. 'For God's sake, Albert, she's just a, a, a

thing!' he finished pathetically. He drew a palm over his face and composed himself. 'You got too close.

You were always too close. To me and to the project.

I should have made you shut her down the minute

you started implementing those "improvements" over the other models.'

Albert opened his mouth to respond, but Geoff

waved him into silence.

'I don't care what you have to say. This is it, it's over, and this is goodbye. Just get on the truck.' He turned

away so that Albert couldn't see the tears in his eyes

and looked over his shoulder. 'Guards? Take it from

here, will you?' His gaze alighted on the prisoner. 'And put that freak in with him.' He gestured. 'They can

keep each other company until the nuke goes off.'

The sergeant stepped forward and took Albert by

the shoulder. 'Sir?' he said.

'Yeah, let's go,' Albert muttered. He turned and began

walking towards the central vehicle.

Every soldier in the compound stopped to watch

him board. Every solder staring at him with hollow,

condemning eyes that made Albert shrink in his coat

as he shuffled to the back of the van. And every

soldier was certain in their heads that this was the

punishment the scientist deserved.

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Every soldier, except Geoffrey Redvers.

By the time Geoff had finished with the observation room it had been almost completely destroyed, and the

broken man sat huddled amongst the splintered

wreckage of the foldout table, walled in by upturned

cabinets, nursing his bruised hands and weeping like

a child.

Blinded by tears, he reached out and began

scrabbling through the papers and folders that

littered the room on his hands and knees until he

found what he was looking for: the parcel, in its

brown Christmas wrapping paper, torn and peeling

away at the edges. He clutched it to his chest and

squeezed.

There was a loud rip and the contents spilled into

his lap. A shower of bills, travellers' cheques, a

passport and other strange items were sent

spinning across the room by his crudely kicking feet.

The passport hit the wall and fell open on the rear

page just as Geoff wiped his eyes on his sleeve in an

attempt to calm his heaving shoulders. Groggily, he

stumbled to his feet and walked over, his thick fingers

reaching down to pick it up. He stood looking at it for a few minutes, running his thumb over the tiny

photograph of Albert. The passport had a different

name and with it the chance of a different life.

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The promise he'd made to try and sort things out.

All gone now.

He folded the little navy book back into his

pocket and blew his nose loudly into his

handkerchief, turning once more towards the tinted

glass to watch the golden sun as it moved steadily

across an orange sky.

Then time stopped.

Fell apart.

Was rewritten.

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Chapter

14

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 2.41 p.m.

The Doctor stood in the centre of the courtyard, his

head snapping this way and that. His riding

companion had been unloaded and stood, head hung

low as a colonel spoke to him in an even lower timbre of hushed nonsense. The Doctor's guards had long since

abandoned him and retreated to the borders of the

compound, in the shadows beneath the large balcony,

to steadily undress their wounds. The blood on their

bandages seemed to evaporate as they steadily

unravelled and folded the white cotton into small tin

cases.

The Doctor didn't know what to do, and the

steadily increasing pain in his chest was beginning

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to distract him from his train of thought. He

walked over to one of the bodies, out of the way of

the precisely lined regiments the unloaded citizens

of Appletown had been organised into. 'Those things

must be quick, impossibly quick,' he muttered.

'There's not a scratch on them.'

Kneeling down he idly placed two fingers on the

soldier's neck, feeling for a pulse, but there was

none. He counted the corpses.

'Thirty-seven,' he whispered. His voice soon rose

to an anguished shout as the impact of what he was

about to have to witness became more and more

profound. 'This can't happen, how could this happen? I

don't want to have to see this. Please!'

As if in response to his cry, the Doctor's fingers

twitched and he looked down at the young man's face.

Where before there had been nothing but cold skin, there now appeared warmth and the faintest of pulses

began to tickle at his fingertips. The ground around

his knees became dry and coarse once again as the

wounds on his legs closed, and the Doctor looked

around nervously. 'It's about to start.'

As he stood up once more he realised that the

soldiers had almost finished laying the androids out

in a complex pattern around the courtyard, a

broken fan, radiating out from a central point. The

Doctor ran over to it, his keen mind taking in

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NUCLEAR TIME

every detail of the scene and the one person out of

place - Albert, now hunched in a corner, beside a

tarpaulin. Sharp exhalations of breath began to chorus

around him and his walk sped up to a run as all

around him the soldiers began to ignite with tiny sparks of life.

A broken crate was lying in pieces just outside of

the shadow of the balcony, and he dropped to his

knees to investigate it, nearly losing his balance as

the stabbing pain intensified. His palms and wrists were aching like hell. Through gritted teeth he examined the

debris. 'An EM generator. They can't have activated it

in time... How was nobody prepared for this? Why

wasn't it already operational?'

He looked up at the railing above him. The

colonel who had been overseeing the unloading now

rested his elbows on the metal bar of the first floor and looked back at him with cold, steel eyes. A man who

had lost everything.

'No,' said the Doctor, lifting his head and railing

against the sky. 'It doesn't have to end like this. Just because I've seen the future doesn't mean that's how

it has to be! I change things all the time! My actions,

anybody's actions, can divert the course of history,

how can it matter which direction I approach it -

there can't be only one outcome, there musn't!'

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The pain in his chest was almost unbearable now

and it took the entire force of his will not to fall to the ground. But there was another sensation building now, a

familiar, tingling sensation on the backs of his hands —

an itching.

Behind

him,

an

android

twitched.

The

electromagnetic

flash

was

echoing

now,

intensifying, focusing into a tight wave of energy that

was hurtling into the crate. Splinters of wood, nails, bits of wire zipped past his face as they slammed into the

slowly reforming box. The final bullet fired returned to the barrel of its gun with a loud crack.

'No!' the Doctor screamed once more. 'This can't

be how it ends!'

Then, suddenly, as if in reply, time stuttered once

more.

And the Doctor could see it all.

Frozen, in the final second of the massacre,

bullets and blood and bodies suspended in space, dying

screams silent in their throats, the Doctor could see

everything.

The great white path of the future, the one he had

been travelling along all this time, the path of least

resistance, the future in which the Time Lord had

interacted the least. It burned his mind like a bulldozer, the force of time, desperately trying to flatten the

effects of that one man who had dared

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NUCLEAR TIME

to contradict the laws of cause and effect, to make him

tiny and insignificant in a universe where action

always must precede reaction, because this was the way it should have been had he never arrived - and

in this version the Doctor was relegated to the

position of observer only.

But it wasn't the only way. And mere observation was

definitely not the Doctor's style.

He might have been blinded by it if he hadn't been

so outraged. But now he concentrated and focused

and fought the feeling that his head was going to

explode until finally he managed to dim the

blazing light in his brain, lowering the brightness that made everything else seem unreal and insubstantial.

With the greatest of efforts he spotted the tiny, hair-

thin paths that blossomed and branched off that

central path like strands of a web, billowing and

splitting in a breeze of dynamic interaction. The

paths of the alternative, the futures he could have

travelled if only he'd done something. There was still

time.

He took a deep breath, checked his watch and

stepped out onto a strand.

The frozen moment skipped forwards and

reversed. And the Doctor screamed in agony as

every cell in his body was reconfigured into sync

with the flow of the universe. He collapsed

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to his knees and crawled agonisingly across the open

space of the courtyard as the sound of dying erupted all around, deafening him. He rolled out of the way of

the stomping boot of a soldier as the man made a

dash for the exit, only to be cut down metres before

he reached the iron gates. The Doctor looked at his

watch. 'Three minutes? That's it? Three minutes into

the past? I'll revert back before I can do anything! I

need something bigger, something more drastic,

something big and annoying and against the laws of

physics. I need half an hour at least!'

Then he remembered: the person out of place. He

scanned the courtyard, dodging his head between

the moving bodies, android and human alike until he

could see Albert, still in his corner, still huddled

against the tarpaulin. He mustered his strength and

began to drag himself forward.

There were now only two minutes left before he

reached the point at which he had crossed over. Two

minutes left before he resumed his backwards

journeying from the beginning of the loop. He

reached out a trembling hand to the scientist and

Albert grabbed it in sympathy, pulling him the last

short distance into shelter.

'Are you OK?' Albert asked. 'That was quite a fall.'

'No time for chit chat,' the Doctor panted back.

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NUCLEAR TIME

'You need to tell me now - what happened? Why did

this start? What caused it?'

Albert tried to turn away, but the Doctor

grabbed his face and turned it back until he was

staring deep into the man's terrified eyes.

'I said there was no time! Now tell me!'

'It... it was me,' Albert stuttered. 'I did it, I

walked with Isley to the dead zone and someone

shouted something. I shouldn't have done it, but I

wanted to see her one last time while she was

conscious. I love her!'

The Doctor released his grip and laughed

desperately. 'That's it, that's all I needed to know.' He looked at his watch. 'And thirty seconds to spare!'

He began to back away, moving over to the

landing site of the crate, now being lifted down in

the balcony above by the colonel. He snapped his

head around quickly. 'I just need something to make

sure I'm in sync for that moment. I need to find out

what's going to happen next and change it, boot

myself into the past even further to keep myself

flowing forwards!'

He looked back at the scientist and raised his

eyebrows, but the man simply looked at him with

surprise as the hands on the Doctor's golden

wristwatch reached their original starting point and

his time line reverted once more. He was

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scooted three minutes into his future, to the starting point of the loop and the apex of the pain.

One side of the Doctor's face smothered itself in grime

as he collapsed prone to the sandy ground. 'The fall,'

he gasped as he realised. 'Albert said he'd just seen

me fall!'

Suddenly the Doctor experienced a feeling he had

never felt before. His legs, chest and arms picked

themselves up from the desert ground and began to

soar into the air, his head and hands crooked

downwards by the still-present force of gravity. 'I'm

falling upwards.' He murmured to himself, the pain

vanished now that the impact was yet to come. 'This

is it, my one chance.'

He twisted in the air, mind racing. If he was

falling he must have been pushed, and if he'd been

pushed it must have been from the balcony that was

rapidly drawing level with his head. He grinned to

himself as he tensed his entire body. He set his jaw and growled. 'But if I don't reach the balcony,' he said, '1

can't have been pushed.'

At the last minute he kicked out his foot,

hooking the toe of his boot under the textured lip of

the iron floor above him, the force of his future battling the brute strength of his body. Time shuddered

and ground to a halt, a movie reel with the cable

unplugged. The Doctor became suspended, the

nexus in a storm of conflicting

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NUCLEAR TIME

pathways and alternate time lines, laughing,

triumphant. 'An impossible trajectory!' he yelled, before plummeting into the past.

177

Chapter

15

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 2.23 p.m.

'Sorry sir. We've brought you the, ah, Health and Safety guy.'

The Doctor cannoned onto the floor of the

observation room, his guards immediately rushing to

haul him up to his feet. 'I have got to stop doing this,' he croaked.

Geoff stepped forward. 'Well, well, well, what have

we here?' He rubbed his palms. 'My stress reliever has

arrived.'

But rather than looking scared, the Doctor merely

dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. 'Yes

yes yes. Can somebody please tell me the exact time?'

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DOCTOR WHO

Geoff stopped and stared at him.

'Sorry, sorry, introductions - I'm the Doctor, health

and safety something something. And you are?'

'Colonel Geoffrey Redvers - project leader.'

The Doctor looked decidedly unimpressed. 'Good

stuff. And you.' He turned his attention to the

scientist. 'I've met you before although you haven't

met me yet.'

'Dr Albert Gilroy.'

'I know, now - time anyone? Before you

interrogate

me?

Please?'

He

looked

around

desperately. The nervous sergeant next to him

checked his watch.

'Two twenty-five,' he said.

The Doctor grinned. 'Twenty minutes, good.

Nothing's set in stone yet.' He looked at Albert and

Geoff. 'We -' he waggled a finger between the three of

them - 'have some things to sort out.'

'No,' said Geoff. 'I have some questions to ask you.'

'Really?' said the Doctor. 'Like how I know about

you transporting your androids to the courtyard

as we speak, despite having never entered the

compound before? Like how I know that you're about

to populate the village out there,' he gestured towards

the tinted window, 'with killer robots that are

programmed to think they

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NUCLEAR TIME

are human before you drop a nuke on them? Like how I

know that there are fifty distinct models of androids,

but some duplicates? Like how I know that two of

them are made to act like a happily married couple

called Mr and Mrs Sanderson?'

There was a shocked silence.

'Well, they're not happily married,' Albert

interjected finally. 'That would be unrealistic. They

just make do.'

Geoff set his jaw. 'How do you know all this?'

The Doctor straightened his bow tie and

adopted the swagger of someone who was on top of

the situation, in the hope that it would persuade the

others that that was the case.

'This is going to be impossible for you to

believe,' he said, 'but I am living backwards

through time.'

A snort of derision echoed around the room.

'This is no laughing matter,' the Doctor scowled. 'And

if you don't take me seriously you will all die.'

Geoff stopped laughing. 'Is that a threat?'

'No, it's not a threat; it's a fact. A series of events are about to unfold which will result in an almost one

hundred per cent mortality count for you, Colonel.'

Albert was fascinated. He moved towards the

prisoner and touched the sleeve of his jacket as if

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DOCTOR WHO

expecting it to explode. 'But how can you be living

backwards through time?' he asked with an air of

disbelief. 'You're responding to everything we say. If

you know the future then you must surely know how

this conversation is going to proceed. It's not

possible.'

The Doctor sighed. 'Time is complicated, but its

processes are based upon simple, fundamental rules —

namely that the actions I perform in the future must have some cause in the past. But if I do something, or

create a situation that is impossible to produce from the already determined set of events that have

happened to you up until that point, then the time line

shunts me into your past long enough for me to

manipulate those causes so that such a situation can occur. If it's a small thing, then I only live forwards a few seconds, but bigger events need more interaction and

so I have to reorient for longer to create the necessary chain of events.'

Albert looked around mockingly. 'But if that is

the case and you do revert, then surely your

backwards self must also be wandering around

somewhere.'

'Good question!' the Doctor beamed. 'OK, I can

see that what we need here are my props.' He pulled a

piece of string from his pocket and laid it carefully on the map-table beside him. 'This here,

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NUCLEAR TIME

is time,' he said. 'You're experiencing things from left to right: cause and effect, cause and effect. I'm

experiencing things from right to left: effect, cause,

effect, cause.'

He produced a pair of scissors from his pocket with

a flourish. 'If I change something here,' he jabbed at a spot on the piece of string and snipped it with his

scissors, 'the string to the left of this cut no longer

connects because the causes don't match the effects

of the right-hand section. So what happens is this —

we find the beginning of the necessary causes that

need to be changed on the left —' Another jab and

another snip — 'and I flip this middle bit of string over, because for this section of string I am travelling

forwards through time. Like I am now.' He flipped

the middle section of string and began tying it back

onto the end pieces.

'If I do things correctly then this right-hand knot

here should be a smooth transition that now all makes

cause-and-effect sense, and all you chaps will see is that I walk and talk backwards from left to right up until

the first knot, then suddenly I'll start talking normally for a while whilst I alter the future until, suddenly

again, I begin talking backwards once more.

'A linear progression for you, but from my point of

view I go backwards along the string until I hit

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DOCTOR WHO

the right-hand knot, then I jump to the left-hand knot

and go from forwards for this middle section, until finally I jump back to the left-hand knot once more to

continue

my

backwards, right-to-left journey,

thereby avoiding any overlap. Happy?'

'It's an interesting way of looking at things.' Albert

scratched his stubble and thought carefully. 'But what

if, during your forwards progression, the causes don't

add up to the effects on the final strand?'

'Then the final strand ceases to exist altogether, a

new piece of string is tied on instead and that

becomes the new future. That's it in basic sort of

terms. In reality, it's more of a ripple, running along

the final piece of string and changing it into a

different colour to signify a new future. Or a different texture... This analogy is confusing me now.' He

grabbed the string from the table and quickly

bundled it back into his pocket.

Albert sniffed and lost interest. 'OK, now I know

you're insane. I just wanted to be certain. Geoff, he's

yours. I'll leave you to it.' He moved towards the exit, but the Doctor grabbed him by the arm.

'What? But I thought you understood!'

'Like I said, it's a nice theory - but it's not

exactly practical, is it? You're just showing off to try and buy some time.'

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NUCLEAR TIME

'Wait, wait. OK, fine, you got me.' The Doctor held

up his hands and slipped the psychic paper out from

his sleeve and into his palm. 'I'm actually from the

Pentagon, access all areas, and I've been fully briefed

on your mission, which is why I know everything.'

Geoff rubbed a palm over his eyes. 'This is

getting silly now. First you said you were from

Health and Safety, then you were travelling

backwards through time, now you're a Pentagon

official.'

'Ah.' The Doctor held up a finger. 'Actually I'm a

Pentagon official who was working undercover as a Health and Safety officer. See?' he said. 'Um, just ignore the backwards-in-time bit; I knew that was never going

to fly.' He thrust his pass in Geoff's face. 'Look!'

Geoff took the psychic paper gingerly and

inspected it. 'Well, it appears to be genuine. Not

that I believe it for one second after that little

ramble.' He sighed. 'So if you are from the Pentagon, what are you doing here? It's not like you guys to get

your hands dirty — especially with something as world-

changing as this. I thought you'd all be cowering

under your desks thinking up incredible alibis.'

The Doctor waggled his hands by way of

explanation. 'I'm from the hands-on division.'

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DOCTOR WHO

He paused and scratched his chin. 'But you're right,

it's all a bit... extrovert this operation, isn't it? Why the nuke in the middle of the desert, and why build

the town?'

'I thought you were meant to know all about this

project.' Albert's eyes narrowed as he shifted his

weight from foot to foot, anxious to leave.

'I know all about it. I just don't know why. That's bureaucracy for you.'

'The androids are practically indestructible,' Albert

began. 'Their circuit boards and vulnerable joints are

fused over once the model comes off the production line

- we can't risk anybody on the other side getting

hold of one. Nuking them all in one go is in fact the

cheapest option available. And you'll notice the theme of cheapness running through this whole explanation.'

The Doctor tutted. 'Yeah, tell me about it. State-run

services, always the first to cut corners. I'm always

telling my Pentagon buddies we should go private;

"soldiers of fortune" has a much better ring to it than

"the armed forces".'

'Er, yeah. So anyway, not only are the models too

expensive to maintain in the current economic climate,

they're also expensive to keep still - what with the EM

fields and whatnot. The village is a low-cost

substitute, designed to make them think they're

undercover long enough to nuke

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NUCLEAR TIME

them without us blowing up a small fortune in

generators at the same time. Luckily we still had a

few skeleton buildings lying around from the sixties.'

The Doctor fished around in his pockets for his sonic

screwdriver, but thought better of whipping it out in a

room full of armed guards. 'Did you not ever consider a

focused sonic pulse to dismantle the androids? I found

it pretty simple myself... in theory.' He coughed quickly.

Albert looked at him like he was from another

planet. 'A focused sonic what?'

The Doctor laughed bitterly. 'Oh dear. Nineteen-

eighties technology against futuristic robots. You had

no chance did you? Didn't you two ever stop and think

that you might be getting a little ahead of yourselves?'

His tone of voice hardened. 'Didn't you two ever

stop and think that maybe, just maybe, creating

something where the best way to destroy it was with a

nuclear bomb might be a bad idea? This world hangs by a thread, nations poised to destroy each other

within minutes, and you know what the only thing

stopping that happening is? The fact that, until now,

everything the other side has produced - vehicles,

soldiers, buildings - could still be destroyed with

conventional weapons. It's always been possible to inflict casualties on your

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DOCTOR WHO

enemy without ripping apart the planet. And that fact

has saved the lives of millions.' He began to pace

around the room, his body tense with rage, hands

gesturing wildly at the vista that lay beyond the

observation glass. 'But now, but now... you've managed to make the impossible. A weapon that can only be destroyed by a nuclear weapon, where the other side

has no choice but to use them when your androids begin carving up their people.' He stopped stone dead in his

tracks. 'You know this means war?'

'It means war either way, Doctor.' Geoff's eyes were

cold and unfeeling. 'That's the point. If the androids

live, their existence will be discovered by the other

side; if they die, we'll have broken the Test Ban Treaty, a sign of aggression against the Russians. The

government want to test the limits, to escalate the

situation so that the other side is forced to admit that they won't push the button, no matter what.' He

paused. 'By tomorrow, we'll either have won the Cold

War, or we'll all be dead. That's it — no other options.'

'Not if we can stop the nuke.'

'The plane's in the air already, there's no going back.'

'Well radio them, call it off!'

Geoff shrugged. 'I don't have the authority. It's out

of my hands.'

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NUCLEAR TIME

'Well I might still have a few tricks up my sleeve

regarding that anyhow.' The Doctor looked around.

'The most pressing issue at the moment is making

sure your soldiers—' He broke off suddenly.

'Where's Albert?'

The scientist had vanished. Geoff snapped a gaze

at the soldiers by the door.

'He just left, sir. Said he didn't have time to sit

around chatting. And that's his words, not mine, sir.'

The Doctor's face went pale. 'We have to get after

him. It's him I need to stop.' He rushed to the door.

'Wait, where do you think you're going?' Geoff

clicked his fingers and the Doctor found himself

pinned against the door by the guards. 'I'm not letting

you outside, Pentagon official or not. We can't risk a

rogue element in the unloading.'

'We haven't got time for this, Colonel,' the Doctor

snapped. 'Albert is about to do something that will lead to the massacre of your platoon — he's the rogue element you should be worrying about.'

'Have we switched back to your "I've seen the

future" story now, then?'

The Doctor yanked his hands free. `Go with

whatever story you like, but I have to go. Five

minutes with Albert, that's all I need, then you can

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DOCTOR WHO

load me on a truck to the village and I'll be out of sight and mind.'

Geoff faltered at the sincerity in the stranger's voice.

'Albert wouldn't betray me.'

'He doesn't know he's going to betray you!'

'What's he going to do?'

The Doctor turned and looked Geoff in the eye before

muttering one single, heartbreaking word. 'Isley.'

Geoff let out a yell, his suspicions confirmed. 'I knew

it. I knew he couldn't keep his distance - the extra

programs he wrote for her were nonsense. I told him

time and time again he was putting us all at risk with

that music player business.'

The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

'Five minutes, Doctor, then I'm putting you on the

trucks.'

But the Doctor was already out of the door, boots

clattering down the iron staircase. 'Thank you!'

Albert tapped a nearby captain softly on the

shoulder. 'I'll take it from here,' he whispered, as the last of the androids were unloaded from the truck. He

had already retrieved his bag from the front cabin and

was toying nervously with the Walkman in his hand.

He wrapped the headphone wire around a finger, then

unwrapped it again as

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NUCLEAR TIME

the captain turned his face to acknowledge him. 'Don't

do this, Albert.' The voice was low and quiet, but its

authority was undeniable.

Albert turned, quickly stuffing the Walkman into

his coat pocket. 'What are you doing here? Shouldn't

you be cuffed to a radiator or something by now?'

The Doctor pushed through the row of soldiers that

divided the two men until he was face to face with the

scientist. 'You don't understand what you are about

to do.'

'I'm just...' Albert's eyes filled with tears. 'I just want to say goodbye. What's wrong with that?'

'She's a machine, Albert, she doesn't understand the

way you see her. She's not even aware of how you feel.

How could she be?'

Albert choked, as the Doctor gently took his hand

and began leading the man away from the lorry. The

scientist protested and tried to pull away but the

Doctor's grip was firm and unyielding. He nodded to the

captain to resume the unloading.

'I know what it's like, Albert, to love something that

you created, but it's not real love, is it? It's pride - you just think you're in love because you made her look so

beautiful.'

'She is beautiful.'

'They all are, Albert, everything you've created is

incredible. You're decades ahead of your time,

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you know that? But they're not people, they're

weapons. You can't forget that - they're guns

dressed up like men and women.'

As the Doctor backed away, Albert following

reluctantly, he waved a hand behind his back to a

group of soldiers who had just finished playing cards

around a small circle of barrels in the shade of the

officer's mess. They vacated their seats without a

word.

'I've never been in love, Doctor.' Albert slumped onto

the cool steel seat.

The Doctor settled beside him and rested his head

against the corrugated iron wall. 'It's never too late.'

Albert laughed. 'Of course it is. This was my life.

She was my life. There is nothing for me beyond this.' He turned, suddenly intense. 'Have you really

seen the future?'

The Doctor opened his eyes and tilted his head. 'Yes,'

he said with complete sincerity. 'You told me what

happened when I found you amongst the survivors.

You said that you'd walked Isley to the dead zone and

someone shouted something. It triggered the military

programming - no one had a chance. Geoff had no

choice but to put you on a truck. You died in the village at Isley's hand.'

His honesty was brutal, and it hit Albert like a bullet

through the heart.

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NUCLEAR TIME

'But the point is,' the Doctor continued, 'you

wouldn't have done it if you'd known what would

happen. It might seem like the most important thing

in the universe to say goodbye to her now, but it

won't be worth what happens next - you said so

yourself. You told me yourself.'

Albert leaned forward and rested his head in his

hands. He took a deep breath, a long sniff, and when he

looked back at the Doctor his eyes were dead and cold.

'You're right.'

The Doctor smiled weakly. 'I'm always right,' he

said.

'So what happens now?'

'Nothing and everything.' The Doctor shrugged. 'The

future is already changed - you didn't trigger the

massacre. That was it. We changed history by having a

conversation.'

'But... everything you lived through...?'

'Will soon have no longer existed,' he finished

Albert's sentence for him. 'Time will ripple

forwards from this point, and in this version all these

soldiers will live. You'll never see what I have seen.'

Albert smiled faintly through the tears, his

cheeks glistening in the shadow. 'Then shouldn't we

be looking a bit happier?'

The Doctor turned away. 'You should,' he said.

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'What's wrong?' Albert was concerned once more.

'It's the bomb, the bomb you dropped - or will

drop in an hour's time. That's why I'm stuck living

backwards, I managed to halt it at the point of

detonation

but

to

extinguish

the

explosion

completely I was forced to dissipate the energy into

the past.' He leant forward now. 'But don't you see?

I've changed things, changed the future - including

the hour that leads up to the bomb being dropped.

It's a new piece of string; the old time line won't exist any more.'

'So all that energy dissipation...'

'Will be lost. The lost energy will coalesce at the

point of impact and explode into the future once

again. I can't stop the bomb going off, your

government is still going to ignite a war and worst of

all, and worst of all...' The Doctor struggled to sustain his composure. 'My friends were in

Appletown, at the instant of detonation. I've

condemned them to death to save your men.'

Albert looked aghast. 'Is there nothing you can do?'

The Doctor looked at his watch. 'Not until I revert

to my backwards state. I have to finish the loop with

you and Geoff loading me into the truck - if I try and

preserve as much of the old time line as possible, it

might take longer for the energy to

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NUCLEAR TIME

reach the critical point. Once this forward loop

finishes, I'll be travelling through my arrival at the base, reversed from your point of view.'

'On the bicycle?'

The Doctor rubbed his chin. 'Now there's a good

idea.'

'But how does this reversed state end? Are you stuck

like this for ever?'

'I hope not. The plan was to travel backwards until

the explosion was completely dissipated, then,

fingers crossed, I'd snap back to the instant the

reversion began, pick up my companions and tell

the Colonel to drop a second bomb the moment they

were safe.'

Albert chuckled incredulously. 'A second bomb? Do you think we're made of money?'

The Doctor's glance made him stop short. 'I don't

care about money; I care about Amy and Rory. Their

lives are beyond value.' He ruffled a hand through

his hair. 'Anyway, it's irrelevant now.'

Albert got slowly to his feet. 'Well, go and warn

them now! Tell them to stay away from the village!'

'We haven't arrived yet.' The Doctor shrugged. 'And

every minute this backwards loop continues takes me

further away from that moment.' He leant forward

and stood up to join the scientist,

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moving past him in the direction of the covered

walkway that led to the courtyard. His shoulders were

hunched, his head hung low, the gait of a defeated

man. Albert had to jog to catch up with him, drawing

alongside as the Doctor strode beneath the first

strips of artificial light.

'You know what?' Albert said with a voice made

of steel. 'I don't think you do care about your friends

very much.'

The Doctor rounded on him, and the scientist

started at the sight of the stranger's face - a tight mask of rage and grief. 'How dare you,' the Doctor hissed. 'You have no idea.'

Undaunted, Albert continued. 'Look at you,

Doctor - a man of impossible things. You claim to be

able to diffuse the effects of a nuclear bomb, you live

backwards through time, you've saved my life and

the lives of everyone on this base with nothing but a

piece of string...' He dropped his hands to his sides in exasperation. 'Does that sound like the behaviour of a

man who just... gives up?'

The Doctor looked at him silently for a full

minute, then embraced him. 'You're right,' he said

quietly. 'Thank you.'

They walked the last few metres in silence, a pair

of guards solemnly pulling open the great iron doors to

the courtyard as they stepped, blinking,

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into the natural light once more. The citizens had

been almost completely transferred to the waiting

vehicles at the exit to the compound and the Doctor

solemnly took his place at the head of the final queue,

boots crunching on the sand as he turned to face the

scientist, his back to the trucks. He looked around and

snapped his fingers.

'Guards! If you would please escort me to one of

the trucks. Backwards, if you don't mind.'

He checked his watch. 'In thirty seconds,' he

added.

The five soldiers began to gather hesitantly

around the incongruous figure, faces tilted to the

balcony above in search of confirmation. Albert

followed

their

gaze

and

saw

Geoff,

leaning

nonchalantly over the iron railings. He nodded

solemnly and scratched his face, still unsure why he

was permitting this.

Albert gave a knowing nod to the Doctor, who

smiled and returned the motion. 'I will not be

beaten,' he said, and took a step backwards.

Albert didn't notice the switch, the subliminal flash

and hiccup in time as the man he had been talking to

only seconds before was catapulted backwards half

an hour. But the look of unfamiliarity in the

prisoner's eyes as he was led away and the unnatural

assuredness with which he took each step backwards,

told him everything

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he needed to know.

He turned away quietly and spotted the

nervous sergeant as he prepared to board up the rear

of the first truck. He jogged over to him with a swift

'Hey'.

The sergeant nodded, and then looked up in

surprise as he found Albert's Walkman shoved

quickly into his hands. 'Sir?' he enquired.

'Can you give this to Isley?' Albert asked as he

unravelled the headphones from his pocket and coiled

it up in the man's palm. 'She's in the truck at the

back.'

'Uh, yeah, sure. Anything you say, sir.'

'It'll make the journey go quicker if she's got music

to listen to,' Albert explained. 'And if there's any tape left when she's unloaded, it'll act as an extra

reinforcement to her reset and keep you guys safe a

bit longer.'

'Oh right. Well, thanks, Dr Gilroy.' The sergeant coiled the wire tightly around the player. 'I'll do that.'

Albert's relief was plain to see and he opened his

arms to give the soldier a brief hug of thanks, but he

thought better of it upon seeing the soldier's frightened face and instead stuffed his hands into his pockets

awkwardly. 'Take care of her,' he said finally. 'She's not like the others. She's special, you know?'

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'If you say so, sir.' The sergeant raised his hand

in a half salute, but the scientist was already hurrying away.

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Chapter

16

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 6.07 p.m.

The smoke was warm and thick as it coiled

around the pair, huddled in the corner of the

upstairs bedroom. Amy's head rested gently on her

fiancé’s lap as the thick cloud filled her lungs and

lulled her to sleep. Rory too was struggling to stay

awake; he ran his fingers idly through the girl's soft red hair, the pain in his arm reduced to a dull, soothing

throb.

There was something he should be doing.

'Escape!' The word was muffled inside his head,

and Rory was unsure whether he had actually

spoken it out loud. But the urge remained nonetheless.

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He peered into the blackening haze and, in the

soft glow from the window, he managed to discern

the faint outline of the doorframe above the stack of

furniture which seemed to have fallen in the way. It

took a few seconds for Rory to remember that it was

he who had put them there. 'Well, it seemed like a

good idea at the time,' he told himself.

Carefully, he rolled Amy from his lap and gently

onto the floor, twitching his foot to relieve the cramp.

She stirred quietly, and Rory tilted his head to one side and smiled affectionately, then stopped himself. 'What

am I doing?' he muttered. A sharp slap to the face

and Amy was awake, yelping in pain.

'Ow! What did you do that for?' she scowled,

rubbing her cheek.

'Because we were about to suffocate to death, that's

what,' Rory called over his shoulder as he flung

himself prostrate on the wooden floorboards. 'Now stay

low, the smoke'll be thinnest near the floor.'

'More crawling? I am so sick of crawling.' Amy lifted herself groggily to her hands and knees and began to

follow him. 'Ouch!' she declared. 'The floor's

burning!'

'That's because it is burning.'

'All right, good point.'

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Rory reached the edge of the wardrobe and

snatched at it with a hand, hauling himself up and into

the thicker strata of smoke that was gently descending

to the floor. He yelled with pain as the injury in his arm stabbed at his muscle. Amy took a deep breath and

joined him, yanking at the desk until it nearly slid over on top of her. She jumped to the side just in time and

the drawers smashed a hole in the weakened

floorboards by her feet. A sinister orange glow

blossomed into the air around them as the flames in

the kitchen below lit up the clouds.

'Yeah, I think we're running out of time,' Rory stated

matter-of-factly. He held his breath and heaved at the

wardrobe, inching it away from the door. It squealed

along the floorboards and they bowed with the

weight.

'The floor's not going to hold.' Amy was

already at the door, pulling it open as far as it would

go. Just a little further and she'd be able to squeeze

through. The bowing frame creaked loudly one final

time, and suddenly Amy was on the other side, her

eyes watering as the smoke on the landing smothered

her face.

'Push from the other side!' Rory shouted.

With a concerted effort, the wardrobe slid a few

more

centimetres.

Then

the

floor

gave

way

completely.

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'Rory!' Amy yelled a warning as the blackened wood

crumbled and splintered away. Her fiancé dived for

the handle, catching it just in time to avoid the

flames below and swinging his other hand up to grab

Amy's as his sweaty palms slipped on the roasting

metal.

They tumbled onto the landing, coughing and

staggering over to the edge of the thin corridor where

the structure was still sound.

'Where now?' Amy spluttered as the smoke filled

her lungs.

Nursing his burnt hand, Rory edged his way to the

top of the staircase and shied away at the heat. Huge

flames licked their way up the banisters and the stairs

were all but disintegrated.

'OK, we're going to have to jump for it.' He

gestured through one of the doors on the opposite side

of the landing. 'I just hope this couple built a compost heap in their back garden.'

'Made out of what? They don't eat!' Amy was at

his side as they pushed into a rear bedroom, still

relatively untouched by the flames.

'Hush, you'll jinx it.' Rory held up a palm. He

squinted his eyes and shuffled cautiously to the

window as if not being able to see would magically make

his hopes come true. But when he opened them and

stared down onto the terraced back garden, his

expression changed to that of sheer

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incredulity. 'Well,' he said after a long pause, 'I really wasn't expecting that!'

'Is it safe?' Amy hung back.

'Uh, yeah.' Rory was still speechless.

She pressed her face against the glass to see what

he was staring at, and then she too opened her mouth

in surprise.

'Whoa,' she said faintly.

Displayed before them, and mown into the lawn

with a large, looping script across the back garden of

the opposite house, were the words Follow me, and then what Amy could swear was a smiley face. Both

the letters and the face were upside down. She traced

the line of the message with her finger as it trailed off to one side and she saw that the author had scrawled a

rambling path through hedges and shattered fences that

spanned the length of the terrace. She tried to trace it to its end, but the rest of the trail became obscured in

the shadow of a series of larger buildings several

houses down, and she lost it in the darkness.

'Do you think it's...?' Rory trailed off.

'Well, of course it's the Doctor.' A slow smile was

spreading across Amy's face. 'I told you he wouldn't

leave us!'

'Not quite the TARDIS materialising in the nick of

time though, is it?'

Amy tutted. 'There's having your cake and

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there's eating it, Rory. Think of it this way - you get to spend more time alone with me.' She winked.

'That means you want me to go down first and catch

you, doesn't it?'

Amy slid the window smoothly open and

flourished her hand. 'My, what a sweet offer, you are

quite the gentleman!'

Rory hit the ground and rolled in a way that

would have made his primary-school gym

instructor proud, but it still hurt. He scanned his

surroundings quickly, but there was no sign of any

hostile movement in the gently swaying bushes that

hissed and popped at the small drizzle of burning ash

and embers as they floated gently across the gardens.

'Clear!' Rory hissed up at the open window

before his face was swiftly covered by Amy's

jacket. He pulled it out of his eyes, just in time to

catch his fiancée as she dropped into his arms with a

small squeak.

She turned her face to look at him, their noses

brushing. 'Are you going to carry me the rest of the

way then, lover-boy?'

Rory plonked her on the turf. 'Not likely.'

Amy rubbed her bruised rear. 'I knew this

chivalry wouldn't last for ever. Come on, then!' An

instant later and she was pushing through the

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battered remnants of the privet hedges towards the

opposite garden.

'No sign of pursuit.' Rory glanced over his

shoulder. 'If they thought there was no way we were

going to escape, I feel quite hurt. We don't look that inept, do we?'

'Hush, you'll jinx it,' Amy replied. `Now's the time

to act, not look for motivation.'

The late afternoon air was cooler now that the pair

had moved away from the warmth of the burning

building and the sun cast a long shadow over them as

they stopped short in the middle of the turf, the

message splayed out around them.

'How did he know what was going to happen to

us?' Rory asked quietly. 'He always seems to know.'

Amy looked up cautiously at the dark outline of

the house in front of her, tinged with an orange glow

from the flames behind. 'I don't think he did. Otherwise he'd have written it the right way up.' She pondered

for a moment. 'No, he must have assumed we would

go to this house.' She pointed at the building in front

of her.

'But why?'

'Let's find out.' She flashed Rory a swift grin and

was already pushing open the sliding patio doors

before he could protest.

The young man was left pointing a limp finger

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in the direction of the demolished fences, his other hand stuffed in his pocket. 'Can't we just, you know, do

what the message says?' He tailed off and sighed in

exasperation. 'Fine, I'm coming!'

The house was dark and dusty and smelt of

sawdust; Rory was sick of the smell of sawdust. He

found Amy flat on her stomach and worming her way

towards the front entrance. His shoes thudded softly

as he approached the prone figure and she waved him

down without looking.

'Quiet!' she hissed. 'I'm going to open the front door.'

Rory looked around quickly, and spotted what Amy

must have noticed an instant beforehand. Faint

footprints ran across the entrance hall, softly outlined in the dust, and his eyes followed them as they made a

beeline for the stairs. There were two sets of prints - a pair of trainers and a pair of heeled boots and Rory's

heart sank as he realised where they were.

The front door squeaked ever so slightly as it

opened but there was no sign of movement above the

garden gate that Rory could see through the gap.

Neither he nor Amy were surprised to see the broken

bits of timber frame and glass that littered the lawn in front of them. But there was something missing.

'Where's Albert's body?' Amy asked as she

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quickly pushed the door back onto the latch.

'I dunno. Taken as a trophy?' Rory shrugged.

'They're robots, not tribesmen.'

'Probably best to worry about that once we've found

the Doctor, eh?'

'I suppose.' Amy sidled back through the

hallway towards the rear doors once more.

Rory stopped and waited for a few seconds, ears

searching for any sign of pursuit or discovery, but there was no noise apart from the gentle tapping of Amy's

heels. He turned and followed her into the back

garden.

As the patio doors slid shut, the house became still

once more, a deep, graveside silence. Then a dark

silhouette stirred into action from its vantage point in the shadows at the top of the stairs.

'They've been trimming the hedge-edges!' Rory

muttered as he dodged and weaved through the

trampled flowerbeds and broken fences that

marked the winding path through the rear gardens.

'The whats?'

'The. Hedge. Edges,' Rory repeated slowly. Amy

grinned. 'Just one more time.'

'The hedgedgedges. Happy now?'

'Very.' She smiled sweetly.

'Look.' He reached out a hand and brushed

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DOCTOR WHO

it along the rounded curves of a broken garden

border, then gestured to the clippings on the

ground. 'It's like they didn't realise the path wasn't meant to be here, and they just incorporated it into their

gardening.'

'But that would mean that this path must have been

made before they arrived.'

Rory pondered. 'And definitely before we

arrived. What on earth is the Doctor doing?'

'Ours not to reason why...' Amy recited. 'Ours just

to stay alive.'

They had crossed nearly a dozen gardens by

now and Amy could see the end in sight: a large

warehouse at the end of the block with a hole

smashed into the side the size of a small car.

'Sheesh,' she muttered. 'He's had a bit of fun making

this, hasn't he? How come we're never around to join

in when he starts smashing things up?'

'We just demolished a house!' Rory pointed to the

plume of smoke still billowing out from the broken

skeleton of the house behind them. 'I'm trying my

best!'

'And you're very good at it.' Amy placed a

reassuring hand on his shoulder as they drew closer

to the warehouse. 'But it's all been a bit too easy, hasn't it? I mean, why didn't the androids surround the

building we were in, or acknowledge

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NUCLEAR TIME

the path in their lawns and do something about it?'

'Like I said, maybe they just assumed it was a

part of the landscape. Or...' He paused. 'They could

all be inside the warehouse, waiting to ambush us.'

More cautiously now, they approached either side

of the gaping hole and peered tentatively into the deep

gloom inside, contrasted further by the brightness of

the afternoon sun. The highlights of a fairly large

metal object were all that they could pick out, and

Rory edged silently inside.

He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust until

eventually the pitch black shadows mellowed into grey

shapes and he realised that the object was a large,

petrol-driven, ride-on lawnmower, parked in the

centre of the space. The tracks they had followed

clearly ended beneath its chunky tyres. But it wasn't

the machine that Rory had fixed his frightened gaze

on; it was the person slumped casually on the

modest seat, arms resting gently in her lap.

It was Isley.

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Chapter

17

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 6.30 p.m.

The android's eyes flickered around the shadows of the

warehouse, amplifying the light and searching for

signs of movement. She had been waiting for five

minutes and twenty-seven seconds when the whitened

greys of the space caught a movement behind one of

the tall wooden supports. Her head swivelled to focus.

A girl - brown eyes, red hair, pale skin - was

moving quietly and swiftly across the side of one wall.

Isley flexed her joints in preparation for the kill, a cat, coiled and ready to spring. It took a fraction of a

second for her to leap to her feet and lunge towards the target.

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Suddenly she was jerked backwards, the wire that

still connected the headphone speakers that bounced

lazily over her shoulders tightening around her

neck. With her head racing through analyses of

possible attack patterns and counter moves the girl

might exhibit, she hadn't noticed the second target.

A click, a snap, a spin, a second click and the

sound of a button being depressed registered in her

brain. The cassette hissed through the blank opening

of the tape for three seconds before the music began,

softly drifting into her sensory circuits from the

speakers around her neck.

Rory swore. 'Where's the volume slidey thing? Oh wait,

no, here it is.'

The music increased in pitch and Isley's head

slumped forward onto her chest.

'Cut that a bit fine.' Amy moved over swiftly, trying

to avoid the glazed eyes of the android.

'I was the one whose neck was in reach!' Rory

reminded her as he waved a hand across Isley's face.

'It looks like the magic music works then.'

'Can we talk to her?'

'Albert said she wouldn't respond to anyone except

people he'd instructed her to communicate with.'

'But he did instruct her to communicate with

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NUCLEAR TIME

us. Didn't he?'

As if a switch had suddenly been flipped in her head,

Isley swivelled to face Rory. The pair started, but she

made no further motion. Eventually her lips parted

and she spoke, a flat, emotionless monotone.

'Where's Albert?'

Amy and Rory glanced at each other.

'See?' Amy said.

'Albert has not instructed me to communicate with

you.' Isley clarified, 'But I am not restricted by my

original programming.' There was a pause. 'Where is

Albert?' she reiterated.

Rory clasped his hands together and leaned

forward angrily. 'You killed him, don't you

remember that? You threw him out of a window. We

were there, we saw it.'

Isley shook her head. 'No.'

'No? What do you mean "no"?'

'That isn't what happened.'

Amy crouched in front of the young woman.

'Then what did happen, Isley?' she asked

carefully.

'You and you,' she looked from Amy to Rory,

'discovered me in my room in the house. It took three

minutes, forty-two seconds for my system to reboot

effectively after the military programmes activated, a

process delayed due to the length of

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DOCTOR WHO

time I was shut down by the electromagnetic field. By

the time I was active, you had already left the

building.'

'But Albert was there. You threw him from the

upstairs window — the wreckage is all over the front

lawn!'

Again Isley shook her head, almost in time to the

music. 'I jumped through the window myself in

pursuit. Albert never entered the village.'

Rory was thoroughly confused by now. 'A lying

robot. Now I've seen everything!' he declared

loudly, waving his hands in exasperation.

Amy held up a placating finger. 'Hold on a

second,' she said before resuming her line of

questioning. 'Isley, when was the last time you saw

Albert?'

'The military compound, in the dead zone

between transports, he was talking to your...' Her eye

ticked as she searched her dictionary. 'Friend?' she

suggested eventually.

'The Doctor!' Rory pinched his nose with a finger

and thumb and squinted as he tried to get his head

around what he was hearing.

'He's changed the past,' Amy whispered. 'Or

he will change the past.'

'Were we at the compound, Isley?'

'No.'

Amy looked to Rory. 'Well either he's changed

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NUCLEAR TIME

the past whilst we're here or we're going to die before

he comes to pick us up.'

'That's a comforting thought. Thanks, Amy. But

how can he have changed the past without us

noticing?'

Rory

was

getting

frustrated.

'We

remember what happened!'

'Yeah, but we're time travellers! We're not even

meant to exist in this time and place. If messing about

with time is going to change our memories, where

would you stop?'

Rory circled the lawnmower, his mind racing. 'That

still doesn't explain why the Doctor's popped off to do

that and left us here with nothing but a lawnmower

message for help.'

'He saved Albert. I think that's reason enough,' Amy

snapped.

'As far as I can see this whole thing is because of

Albert anyway.'

Amy sighed and turned away, refocusing her

attention on the android. 'Were you waiting for us here?

Why?'

'I can read. Basic tracking programs are

improved and refined by application; defenceless

targets are useful for practice. It was logical that you would obey the instruction described by this machine.'

'Can't any of the other models read?' Amy raised

an eyebrow.

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DOCTOR WHO

It was with an almost mocking tone that Isley

responded. 'No. I have been operational for

exactly five years. My data assimilation, learning

capabilities and military programming are, on

average, tenfold superior to the other models — most

of which have not yet applied their basic military

tactics.'

Rory snorted. 'So they might be indestructible killing

machines, but they're stupid indestructible killing

machines.'

'Except for me,' Isley interjected.

Rory was surprised that the android had

responded and was unsure whether she was

merely stating the facts or whether she actually

sounded smug. 'Yes, except for you,' he finally

agreed. He turned to his fiancé. 'Right, what are we

supposed to do with her now? We might have an

hour's grace, but she's still lethal.'

Amy

shrugged.

'Like

you

said, she's

indestructible. I suggest we find out what the

Doctor wants us to do in here, then put a safe

distance between us and the end of that tape as

quickly as possible.'

There was silence for a few minutes except for

the quiet guitar riff coming from the speakers around

the robot's neck, its sound dampened by the dust

that coated the floor. The pair looked around.

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NUCLEAR TIME

'Well I've got —'

'No idea.' Amy finished. 'Me neither.'

Rory ran a hand through his hair. 'Isley? You seem

in a helpful mood. Any ideas?'

Isley twitched. 'Where's Albert?' she said

simply.

'I don't know, lady; probably where you last saw

him!' Exasperated, Rory ran over to the mower,

now highlighted in a pool of golden light, its green

paint coloured a dull orange. 'No note, Doctor? Come

on! Give us something!'

'There!' Amy ran over to the huge wooden doors

of warehouse, where a tiny post-it had been

slapped on the wooden bolt that ran across the

entrance. She peeled it off and examined it, squinting

through the yellow haze.

'Well? What does it say?' Rory demanded. 'It

doesn't make any sense.'

'He never makes any sense!' Rory called back. 'Just read it anyway!'

'Uh, OK.' She cleared her throat and began. "'You

have exactly nine minutes and twenty-four seconds to

get to the town square—"'

Rory looked incredulous. 'How on earth could he

know exactly what time we'd pick up that note? It's tiny for a start!'

'I've not finished.' Amy ran her finger across the

looping script. 'What it says is, "You have exactly 219

DOCTOR WHO

nine minutes and twenty-four seconds to get to the

town square from the moment the buildings begin to

disintegrate." There, see? Not so magic.'

But Rory wasn't listening. 'Amy.' His voice began

to shake. 'How did you manage to read a post-it note

in a room that was pitch black when we entered?' He

held out his hand, puncturing a column of deep

golden light that was flooding downwards from above.

'And why has everything got so... orange all of a sudden?'

Amy's eyes widened as, suddenly, a bright shaft

of daylight flooded into the centre of the warehouse,

picking Rory out in pure white highlights. Her hair

ruffled and tugged at her scalp and she could feel

a wind whipping up around her. Both of them looked

up at the same moment, eyes moving slowly, dreading

what they were about to see.

The roof of the warehouse was coming apart,

planks and tiles flaking and shattering as they were

picked up and scattered by the wind. Through the

gaping holes they could see the sky, but now it had

been transformed to a sickly yellow and grotesquely

deformed clouds scudded over their heads, warping

and stretching as they watched.

Rory extended his arms, palms uplifted as if

presenting the sky to those around him. 'Ruddy hell,'

he shouted over the gale. 'It's the end of the

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world!'

There was a kick, a growl and the lawnmower motor

spluttered into life. Rory turned to find Amy astride the metal seat, beckoning to him to hop on behind her. He

had to read her lips to work out what she was

shouting.

'I think our nine minutes and twenty-four

seconds might have already started!' she yelled.

Rory leapfrogged over the rear engine,

slamming his hip-bone against an awkwardly

placed piece of metal. Amy took his roar of pain as a

sign to get the hell out of there, and she slammed

her foot down hard on the accelerator. Rory wrapped

his arms around his fiancée’s waist as the beast began

to rumble towards the bolted exit, steadily gathering

speed.

'Wait!'

Rory turned his head in surprise. Isley was

jogging alongside, the faint vocals of the music in

the headphones bouncing around her neck barely

audible over the bass of the wind and her sandy hair

was tinged almost blood-red in the apocalyptic light.

'Wait!' she repeated. 'Where's Albert?'

But they didn't have time to wait. Rory turned back

to see the gates looming perilously close. 'Shouldn't

we have opened them first?'

Amy smiled to herself. 'Why should the Doctor

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get to have all the fun?' she replied, thumbing a

button on the dashboard. The lawnmower blades

unfolded from the sides of the vehicle, spinning wildly

as they approached the exit and Amy felt Rory's arms

squeeze tight around her as both of them dipped

their faces into their chests in preparation for the

impact.

There was a brutal, crunching sound, like that of

an enormous buzz-saw, and the couple were

showered with splinters and sawdust as, with a hefty

crack, the gates split, and the momentum of the vehicle

carried them out onto the open road.

'Wahoo!' Amy yelled in triumph and held her palm

up for Rory to high-five. He did so with a loud wolf

whistle and leant over Amy's shoulder to kiss her

sawdust-coated cheek.

'I've got to hand it to the Doctor,' he shouted in her

ear. 'He certainly knows how to liven things up!'

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Chapter

18

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 2.04 p.m.

'Well, I've got to hand it to myself: I certainly know

how to liven things up.' The Doctor wiped down his

sonic screwdriver with a rag from his pocket and

slipped it into the inside of his jacket before wiping

down the side of the lawnmower once more. 'There

you go, all nice and turbocharged. I'll put it on your

tab shall I, Amy, Rory?' He looked around sadly, before

his confidence got the better of him. 'I always waste

my best lines when I'm alone,' he sighed.

The light from outside cast a slanted beam

through the smashed-up hole in the back wall that

almost touched his boots and he crouched down

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to write a post-it in the glow.

A moment later and he'd stuck the sticker across the

barred front entrance to the warehouse and was

ducking outside once more, taking a moment to

admire the last ten minutes' handiwork, his hands on

his hips and a wry smile across his face. 'Let's just hope the androids don't notice anything out of the ordinary

when they arrive,' he muttered, mopping his brow and

unwittingly leaving a streak of oil across his

forehead.

He pulled his bike away from where it had been

resting against a nearby wall and began to pedal out

into the road and towards the centre of Appletown.

'And they said it was impossible to pedal a bike

backwards,' he said to himself with a grin.

A few minutes later, the familiar blue shape of the

TARDIS came into view around a corner. The Doctor

greeted it with a wave and a whoop.

'Hello, beautiful!' he shouted.

His back wheel skidded round as he applied the

brakes, and he looked up at the white-rimmed windows

as he dismounted. 'What? Giving me the silent

treatment, are you? Well, I don't blame you, to be

honest. I've been an ungrateful Doctor, that's for sure.

You go to all this trouble to save our lives, and I go

and mess it up at the last minute — for another

bunch of idiot humans, no

224

NUCLEAR TIME

less.' He reached out a hand to stroke the painted

wooden frame. 'You know, one day I'll find a less self-

destructive species to hang around with, and you and

I can live a much quieter life... Ouch!' he yelped.

'You're hotting up pretty bad in there. Can't be much

longer till the bomb's back to its full potential.' He

pointed accusingly. 'If you didn't talk so much...'

In a flurry of movement he pulled off his

jacket, wrapping it around his arm again to open the

door. Taking a deep breath, he stepped over the

threshold, threw his jacket onto the hat stand inside

and slammed the door shut behind him.

All was quiet for a few minutes until suddenly he

popped his head out into the sunlight once more.

Cautiously he looked both ways then reached out

to grab the bike by its handles.

'Yoink!' he declared. 'Happy Christmas, me!' before

wheeling it inside and shutting the doors behind him.

In the vast interior of the TARDIS, a war was being

waged and the air conditioning seemed to be on the

verge of losing as the Doctor bounded up the steps to

the console, snapping his braces tight against his

shoulders. Above his head, the flaming ball of the

nuclear bomb rippled and flashed in its stasis field.

225

DOCTOR WHO

The Doctor jabbed an angry finger at it. 'You - keep

cooking away all you like, I'll be rid of you in a

moment, and you -' He turned his attention to the

console - 'You and I have some things to do. Three

things, in fact...' He held up three fingers, then

stopped and lowered his hand thoughtfully. Somehow

this just didn't seem quite dramatic enough. 'Wait

there!' he called over his shoulder before disappearing

down a branching corridor.

The Doctor returned seconds later carrying a

flip chart and set it up in front of the monitor. 'Right!'

He tore off the first page and let it tumble to the floor before scribbling furiously with a marker pen.

'Three things! First - we need to rescue Amy and

Rory.' He flipped the pen at the scanner. 'And I've

already started to sort that, so you'd better make my

post-it note come true. Second - we need to eject the

bomb and use it to destroy Appletown and its entire

population of sinister robots. Third... OK, I'm going to be honest with you here, this one's the toughie. Third,'

he repeated, 'we need to eject the bomb and let it

detonate without producing a mushroom cloud. If the Russians spot the test, I refuse to bear witness to the

beginning of a war. I'm sure Albert or Geoff will be

clever enough to come up with a cover story for all

the radiation and stuff.' He stopped and paused.

'Lord knows they owe me that.'

226

NUCLEAR TIME

He underlined the three points clearly, then again

for emphasis, before finally making a dash for the

console. 'We can have it all today!' he shouted with

a roar of determination. 'I promise you, today we are

going to have it all!'

The control panel sparked and flashed like a

Catherine wheel as he jumped from lever to lever,

oblivious to the burns on his hands as he prepared the

TARDIS to jump back to the moment of impact. The

scanner flashed and clicked on, displaying a fuzzy grey

meter at almost ninety-seven per cent and the clock

beneath continued to tick through negative time as

the craft neared the end of its loop.

'OK, I'm taking the safeties off!' the Doctor

shouted, just in case the console hadn't had time to

catch up with his flurry of inputs. 'When we snap

back to the point of capture, I want you to jettison the cargo and continue on - overshoot the target by... I

dunno...' He looked at his watch. 'An hour and

thirty-seven minutes? That should spread the impact

thinly enough.'

The size of the time difference dawned on the

Doctor. 'Oh Amy, Rory, over an hour and a half at

the mercy of those monsters?' He crossed his fingers.

'I bet you gave 'em hell!'

Suddenly, the stasis field behind him jerked

outwards in all directions as the bomb's energy

227

DOCTOR WHO

returned to full capacity, and the Doctor was

hurled across the control room, hitting the curved side

of the wall and sliding down into the shadowy space

beneath the gantry.

'This is it!' he shouted. 'Break the loop!'

The TARDIS juddered and shook as it flipped and

reoriented around its own time line before rocketing

into the future, groaning and screeching as it tore into the reconfigured chain of events that the Doctor had

crafted. The Doctor staggered to his feet; across the

room he could see the main view screen, local time

strobing across it in loud bursts of light.

2.37, 2.52, 3.10, 3.40, 4.03...

Mustering all his strength, he hauled himself over

the edge of the parapet and his hands burned as he

crawled over to the console and grabbed the handbrake

for support. He lifted his chest to prop himself against the control panel as his right hand felt for the correct lever.

4.15, 4.27, 4.40, 4.51, 4.57, 5.01...

'Detonation point! Eject and overshoot!' The

Doctor nearly pulled the lever off in his hand, and

above him the stasis field glowed white, swelling

in a nanosecond before snapping out of the

TARDIS's interior dimensions with a sonic boom of

repressurising air that made the Doctor reel with

sudden deafness.

228

NUCLEAR TIME

5.15, 5.26, 5.55, 6.10, 6.23, 6.45...

The Doctor slumped over the handbrake and, with

his last ounce of strength, depressed the button and

forced it on. He collapsed to the floor with exhaustion, watching the glow of the central column grind and

slow as the TARDIS jumped and skidded through

time before coming to a halt in the middle of

Appletown village square at 6.49 p.m. on 28 August

1981.

'They're coming for us!' Rory turned his head as far

as he dared. He was sure a ride-on lawnmower

shouldn't be travelling this fast.

'Let

'em.'

Amy

grinned.

'They

might

be

indestructible but they'll stay away from these blades

if they're clever.'

All around them, the citizens of Appletown were

tearing down front doors, vaulting over garden

hedges and sprinting out into the road in pursuit. The

steady crowd was growing stronger with every passing

second, each model travelling at top speed, their

strides pounding the ground in unison.

All around the couple, the wooden-clad

buildings were crumbling and disintegrating, tiles

and timbers cast into the air as they dissolved in the fire like sugar in tea. The sky was filled with angry clouds -

low, amber monsters that blotted

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DOCTOR WHO

out the sun and transformed the afternoon into an eerie

twilight.

'You know we thought we were going to be

nuked?' Amy called over her shoulder as she

swerved to avoid the owner of the coffee shop who

had thrown himself onto the street from a top-floor

window.

Rory was too busy holding on for dear life to care

at this point. 'Oh yeah?'

'Well, I think it just happened.'

The ground was on fire now, the stones melting

beneath the thundering wheels of the mower. A pack

of androids rounded an upcoming corner, and Rory

retched as he saw the melted, stringy plastic that

dripped and fell from their faces. They stumbled to

their knees as the mower tore past, metal sparking

and shattering as they disintegrated.

'I suppose there's no point asking why we're not

affected?'

Amy shook her head. 'I don't know the answers, but I

know someone who owes us some!'

She pointed ahead of them.

'Oh, mama, I never thought I'd see that again!' cried

Rory.

The dark shape of the TARDIS was grinding into

existence at the end of the road. Dust and debris tore

across its faded outline as the howling

230

NUCLEAR TIME

roar of the engines threatened to take on the wind itself.

There was a sharp thud and the mower skidded

sideways, Amy wrestling for control as a wheel and

both of the machine's blades snapped away from the

chassis. 'The mower's gone squiffy!' she shouted

through gritted teeth.

'It's in the middle of a nuclear explosion!' Rory exclaimed. 'Just keep it straight, we've got enough

momentum to slide the last bit.'

The metal crumbled away from their legs, red-

hot dust spraying across their shins as they skidded

across the desert sand, Rory's trainers curling and

smoking as they hit the ground.

'Doctor!'

Amy

shouted

as

they

prepared

themselves for impact with the TARDIS. 'Open the

doors!'

As if viewed through a dream, a bright haze

flooded out onto the path ahead as the double doors

of the TARDIS were flung open to receive its guests.

A silhouette slouched against the frame and, with the

flourish of a circus ringmaster, the Doctor beckoned

the pair into its vast interior, just as the mower

exploded into a cloud of liquid metal behind them.

Casually, the Doctor reached out a hand and caught a

small black box before tossing the object into the air

and slipping it into his pocket.

231

DOCTOR WHO

He tugged his forelock at what was left of

Appletown and - with a cheery 'Goodbye for ever!'

- he slammed the doors behind him as the storm

exploded outside.

A second later and the TARDIS had faded away.

'Aaaand bingo!' With a sweep of his wrist, the

Doctor crossed out the first item on his flip chart

and stood back to see all three of his goals thoroughly

scribbled out. He rubbed his chin. 'Should have

put "Save Rory and Amy" at the bottom - would

have made it much more satisfying to work

through that way.' He looked at the bedraggled pair

in the corner of the room. 'But between you and me

they -' He nodded his head conspiratorially -

'probably wouldn't have appreciated that.'

He was interrupted by a loud flapping sound as

Rory tried to extinguish his shoes against the wall of

the TARDIS. 'I'm sure I keep a fire bucket handy

somewhere...' the Doctor muttered, glancing

around in an attempt to be helpful. But the shoes

were already out, their blackened soles crumbling to

ash in Rory's hands, so the Doctor simply shrugged

and forgot about it.

He strode over to the railing along the gantry and

leaned over to grin at his companions from

232

NUCLEAR TIME

their position by the door. 'It's called a thingy by the way,' he said.

'What is?' Amy asked.

'The

thingy

that

delayed

your

mower's

disintegration so that you could get here. I call it a

thingy because I'm always forgetting the names of

stuff, you see - I'm always going, "Where's that thingy?"

and "What have I done with my thingy?" and "Ooh, what's my thingy doing there?" Now I'll always be

looking for something specific, even if it isn't

actually what I'm after.' He paused for a second and

considered. 'Well, actually that could get quite

annoying, especially if people kept passing it to me

when I didn't need it.'

'I'd rather you'd not used a "thingy" at all,

Doctor,' Rory began. 'I'd rather you'd just landed in

front of us or something, you know, before the whole nuke thing.'

The Doctor shrugged and held up his palms.

'Sorry, couldn't move from the square, you see? It was

the bomb's impact site and I couldn't deviate from

those specific coordinates whilst carrying out my

clever plan.'

'Which was?'

The Doctor hopped down the steps until he was

standing in front of the pair. 'Saving my two best

friends from dying in a nuclear explosion that had no

place occuring in 1981, that's what.' He opened

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DOCTOR WHO

his arms and hugged them both tightly to his chest.

'Oh, and I got a new bike as well,' he said, pointing at the rusting contraption by the door.

Amy hesitated and pulled away from the hug. 'But

it did go off, Doctor.'

'Sort of,' the Doctor replied, wondering how to

explain what had just happened. 'It's like throwing

something out of a moving car, a bit of rubbish or

whatever. The TARDIS is like the car, the bomb is

like the bit of rubbish, and the road outside is time,

more importantly the time spanning one particular

point so that driving forwards goes into the future of

that point and reversing travels into the past, see?'

They didn't.

'If the car wasn't moving and you threw

something out of the window, it would just hit the

verge next to you. But if the car's moving really

fast then the bit of rubbish will travel with the

momentum of the car after it's thrown, hopping and

skipping along the road behind it. I materialised the

TARDIS around the nuke and took a run-up, ejecting it

at the moment of impact. Because it was still moving

rapidly

forwards

through

time,

the

bomb's

instantaneous explosion was spread over an hour and

a half as it hopped and skipped across the future

before coming to rest in normal time. The result was

that the time

234

NUCLEAR TIME

line knew that a nuclear bomb was supposed to

explode but was unsure when, so it took a while to catch up. In the end, to cover its tracks, it

produced all the after-effects and destruction of a

nuclear bomb, but combined it with a patchy and

inconsistent moment of detonation. There's no

mushroom cloud because there's no specific point for a

mushroom cloud to occur, and you two have enough

time to find me before the future catches on; especially as a pair of time anomalies like you are the last thing

an uncertain past is going to try and impose

consequences on.'

'Uh, right,' Rory mumbled. 'Well, thanks

anyway.'

'You're welcome!' the Doctor replied cheerily,

sauntering back up the steps to pack his flip chart away.

'Righty-ho, always moving on, moving on.'

Amy caught up with him before he could

disappear down a corridor. 'That's it?' she said. 'That's all that happened to you — the run-up and the

throwing-a-bomb-out-the-window thing — that was

everything, was it?'

The Doctor shrugged. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean Albert. He didn't die. We remember him

dying, we watched it happen. But he didn't die,

Doctor, it never happened.' She frowned.

The Doctor looked away. 'Well isn't that nice for

everyone?' he said.

235

DOCTOR WHO

'Isley said she saw you talking to him, at the

military base.'

'You spoke to Isley?' The Doctor raised an

eyebrow. 'If I'd known you were going to make

friends with the killer androids, I'd have taken my time a bit more.'

'Be serious, Doctor.' Amy touched his shoulder, but

he brushed it away.

'Today was a very long day, Amy,' he said

eventually. 'I'm too tired for this.'

He turned and began to make his way down the

corridor, boots clumping on the floor. Amy stood in

silence for a second before resolving herself. She

turned to see Rory waiting for her by the edge of the

stairs and blew him a kiss. He caught it and stuck it on his bum with a wink.

Suddenly she turned back.

'Doctor!' she called after the retreating figure. He

stopped. 'Did you do it, though? Did you manage

to save them?'

The Doctor looked around and flashed his

companion a sad smile. 'Yes,' he said quietly.

'Saved all of them. Every, single, one.'

And Amy was happy.

236

Chapter

19

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 5.20 p.m.

Albert pulled on a pair of goggles. 'I'm going

outside,' he said simply.

A gantry had been erected along the exterior of the

structure, running parallel to the observation room,

and the wind tugged at his lab coat as he stepped onto

the steel deck. It was like nothing he had ever seen

before. The horizon sparkled in the distance, flashes of bright, blinding light flaring and dying amongst a flat

sea of crimson flame. The display had lasted over ten

minutes now and reminded the scientist of a

lighthouse off the coast of a beach he'd used to holiday on as a child.

Inside the compound there was an awed silence,

237

DOCTOR WHO

rows of soldiers ranked up across the gates to the

courtyard, taking it in turns to borrow the limited

supply of goggles whilst the others turned their backs

to avoid being blinded.

Albert's life was in that town, and it was

burning.

'The Russian plane passed overhead three

minutes ago.' Geoff was suddenly at his side. 'God knows what they'll make of this. God knows what anyone will make of this, it's like no nuke I've ever seen before.'

'Maybe that's a good thing,' Albert responded. 'More

room

to

manoeuvre

politically

with

an

indescribable event.' For the first time in nearly ten

years, he felt a glimmer of hope. 'It's up to

Washington to make the right decision now.'

'Well we were all pretty freaked out when it came

to crunch time. Even the boys in suits must have a

heart somewhere.'

'No one wants to die,' Albert responded.

There was silence for a moment. Then Geoff

coughed awkwardly.

'Albert, I think you should take a look at this.' Albert was surprised to find Geoff's blue folder

thrust into his hands. He looked up enquiringly. 'Just

go through the summaries. It'll give you

the gist.' Geoff nodded to him.

Carefully, Albert opened the folder, holding it

238

NUCLEAR TIME

with his thumb to keep the papers from blowing away.

The turning of sheets marked each passing minute

until finally he handed the bundle back.

'It's not a huge surprise,' he said eventually. 'We've

always been pretty dangerous — the things we know.'

There was a pause. `Do they know that you know?'

'No. A friend at the Pentagon passed it to me. These

are the briefings they gave the platoon yesterday.'

Albert stepped back from the railing, out of

sight of the soldiers below. 'So they've been ordered

to shoot us?'

'Disappear is the preferred term. Who knows, they

might actually let us live, in some form or other.'

'I think that depends on what you count as

living,' Albert remarked.

Geoff coughed once more. 'But it's OK for you,' he

said, 'because I got you this.' From behind his back

he produced a parcel, brown Christmas wrapping

paper tattered and torn at the edges. 'It took me a year.

But I kept my promise.'

Albert gave him a look as he took the parcel,

carefully tearing the edge off one side and shaking it a little before sliding his hand in to feel around.

He pulled out the items one by one.

The first was a little navy book.

239

DOCTOR WHO

'A passport - valid for anywhere,' said Geoff. A

wad of notes.

'One million dollars in traveller's cheques. That's

my pension right there.' He smiled half-heartedly.

A small money bag, filled with dollars of

varying denominations.

'Petty cash.'

And a key.

'There's a motorbike under a tarpaulin in the

corner of the courtyard. It's yours.'

Albert had no words.

Geoff tried to laugh through his tears. 'There you

go - a life, right there. The one we took away from you, the one I took away from you on that beach in

California. All this -' he gestured at the horizon - 'is ended. Go and do what you always should have

done.'

'But what about you?'

'I've had my life, before you. I had a wife and a

kid, I had a house and a mortgage and a war. I don't

think I could handle doing it all over again.'

Albert proffered his hand, and Geoff took it

firmly.

'Thank you, old friend,' Albert said quietly.

'Oh, c'mere,' Geoff growled and embraced the

scientist in a hug that almost lifted him off his feet. 'Now go, while they're still watching the show. If

240

NUCLEAR TIME

you can cross the state border before midnight it'll cause a hell of a fuss when they try coming after you

tomorrow and you're long gone.'

Albert nodded. He shrugged off his grubby white

lab coat and folded it neatly over the railing, then

turned to walk down the steps.

Geoff waited for a moment before striding over to

the top of the stairs. 'Just be happy,' he called after

him.

Once Albert had disappeared around the bend,

Colonel Geoffrey Redvers turned back to the

horizon. He lifted his hands to his goggles and

pulled them down to his neck, eyes squeezed tightly

shut. He could feel the warm breeze from the horizon

running across his face and hands, through his

thinning grey hair. It felt pleasant and comforting like the arms of his wife, tight around his chest when he'd

come home from the war.

'If I'm going to die tomorrow,' he said to himself, 'then I'll damn well enjoy today!'

A silent count of three, and he opened his eyes.

The highway was long and straight and empty as it

ran through the desert towards the shadow of the

mountain range in the far distance, and Albert pushed

forward on the bike as he raced towards the sunset,

the stones and rocks by the sides of the

241

DOCTOR WHO

road blurring into a smooth golden brown. Geoff

hadn't given him a helmet, and his tousled hair had

flattened itself along his head, tugging at his face.

Even with his glasses on, he needed to squint

against the wind to see where he was going, so he

almost missed the figure walking slowly along the side

of the road.

She was merely a dark shape at first, but her figure

filled out as he approached and Albert could swear that

he had seen that T-shirt somewhere before.

He braked gently as he drew alongside, the

engine spluttering in frustration as he ground to a

halt.

'Isley?'

The woman turned, and it was her. Her

headphones had been wrapped together roughly in

sticky tape - a bundle which also seemed to include a

large chunk of her hair - and she had a scarf wrapped

around half of her face.

'Albert, there you are,' she stated flatly. 'I was

looking for you.'

'I'll bet you were,' Albert said, opening his arms and

encouraging her to come closer. 'Come here. Let's take

a look at you.'

She moved closer, and he reached out a hand to her

scarf, tugging the material until it fell away.

242

NUCLEAR TIME

Albert gasped.

Behind the scarf, the plastic skin of her face had melted away — a smooth line that ran from her right temple down to her lower jaw exposing the metal skull beneath. She

held up her hand instinctively to cover the deformity,

and Albert could see that it too had been stripped

almost bare.

'I ran away from the village,' she said, 'but I wasn't

quick enough.'

'No, I can see that,' Albert murmured. He ran the

back of his finger softly across her smooth metal

cheek and up to the speakers that covered her ears.

He pulled them away softly and nodded as he

recognised the track on the album. 'But why did you

run?'

'To find you,' she said quietly. 'I need you.'

Albert leant over and kissed her tenderly. 'I

need you, too,' he whispered. He composed himself

and slapped a palm against the back seat of the

motorcycle.

'Hop on then,' he said. 'We've got at least half an

hour before you need to change the tape, and I want to

be in New Mexico before nightfall.'

243

Acknowledgements

This book (and my career) would not exist if it

weren't for Clayton Hickman and Gary Russell. It

wouldn't look this good if it weren't for Lee

Binding, and it wouldn't read this good if it

weren't for the patience of Justin Richards and Steve

Tribe.

Thanks also to Paul Lang, Claire Lister and

Leanne Gill for giving me enough work to pay the rent

whilst I wrote it, and Emma Price for paying it when

they didn't.

Special mention must also go to all the

wonderful people I've met since becoming part of

the 'Whoniverse': Joe Lidster, Stuart Manning, Scott

Handcock, Tom Spilsbury, Gareth Roberts, Darren

Scott, Kieron Grant, Neil Corry, David Jorgensen

and David Llwellyn, amongst many others.

245

DOCTOR WHO

I would also like to thank my family for stoically attempting to read all of my work, Thomas Coates Welsh

for being a fellow Who fan and best mate throughout my childhood, and Tim Keable, who does the same

today.

And finally, of course, Steven Moffat, Matt

Smith, Karen Gillan and Arthur Darvill for crafting such a magical fairy tale.

246

Coming soon from BBC Audiobooks:

The Hounds of Artemis

by James Goss

When the TARDIS arrives in Smyrna in 1929, the Doctor

and Amy find themselves in the middle of an archaeological dig. Soon a terrible chain of events is set in motion, and the Doctor is confronted with an ancient evil...

The Ring of Steel

by Stephen Cole

On Orkney in the near future, the construction of dozens of new electricity pylons is met with local resistance. Just as the Doctor and Amy arrive, the protestors are terrified to see the pylons come to life and begin to walk...

Available on CD from www.bbcshop.com and all good

booksellers. Pre-order your copy now!

Also available to download from www.bbcaudiozone.com and other audio digital retailers.

Available now from BBC Books:

Apol o 23

by Justin Richards

£6.99 ISBN 978 1 846 07200 0

An astronaut in full spacesuit appears out of thin air in a busy shopping centre. Maybe it's a publicity stunt.

A photo shows a well-dressed woman in a red coat lying

dead at the edge of a crater on the dark side of the moon

— beside her beloved dog 'Poochie'. Maybe it's a hoax.

But, as the Doctor and Amy find out, these are just

minor events in a sinister plan to take over every human being on Earth. The plot centres on a secret military base on the moon — that's where Amy and the TARDIS are.

The Doctor is back on Earth, and without the TARDIS there's no way he can get to the moon to save Amy and defeat the aliens.

Or is there? The Doctor discovers one last great secret

that could save humanity: Apollo 23.

A thrilling, all-new adventure featuring the Doctor and Amy, as played by Matt Smith and Karen Gillan in the spectacular hit series from BBC Television.

Available now from BBC Books:

Night of the Humans

by David Llewellyn

£6.99 ISBN 978 1 846 07969 6

250,000 years' worth of junk floating in deep space, home to the shipwrecked Sittuun, the carnivorous Sollogs, and worst of all — the Humans.

The Doctor and Amy arrive on this terrifying world in

the middle of an all-out frontier war between Sittuun and Humans, and the countdown has already started. There's a comet in the sky, and it's on a collision course with the Gyre...

When the Doctor is kidnapped, it's up to Amy and

'galaxy-famous swashbuckler' Dirk Slipstream to save the day.

But who is Slipstream, exactly? And what is he really doing here?

A thrilling, all-new adventure featuring the Doctor and Amy, as played by Matt Smith and Karen Gillan in the spectacular hit series from BBC Television.

Available now from BBC Books:

The Forgotten Army

by Brian Minchin

£6.99 ISBN 978 1 846 07987 0

New York — one of the greatest cities on 21st-century

Earth... But what's going on in the Museum? And is

that really a Woolly Mammoth rampaging down

Broadway?

An ordinary day becomes a time of terror, as the Doctor

and Amy meet a new and deadly enemy. The vicious Army

of the Vykoid are armed to the teeth and determined to

enslave the human race. Even though they're only seven

centimetres high.

With the Vykoid army swarming across Manhattan and

sealing it from the world with a powerful alien force field, Amy has just 24 hours to find the Doctor and save the city. If she doesn't, the people of Manhattan will be taken to work in the doomed asteroid mines of the Vykoid home planet.

But as time starts to run out, who can she trust? And how far will she have to go to free New York from the Forgotten Army?

A thrilling, all-new adventure featuring the Doctor and Amy, as played by Matt Smith and Karen Gillan in the spectacular hit series from BBC Television.

Available now from BBC Books:

The TARDIS Handbook

by Steve Tribe

£12.99 ISBN 978 1 846 07986 3

The inside scoop on 900 years of travel aboard the

Doctor's famous time machine.

Everything you need to know about the TARDIS is here -

where it came from, where it's been, how it works, and how it has changed since we first encountered it in that East

London junkyard in 1963.

Including

photographs,

design

drawings

and

concept artwork from different eras of the series, this

handbook explores the ship's endless interior, looking inside its wardrobe and bedrooms, its power rooms and sick

bay, its corridors and cloisters, and revealing just how the show's production teams have created the dimensionally

transcendental police box, inside and out.

The TARDIS Handbook is the essential guide to the best ship in the universe.

Available now from BBC Books:

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by Una McCormack

£6.99 ISBN 978 1 846 07990 0

In the city-state of Geath, the King lives in a golden hall, and the people want for nothing. Everyone is happy and

everyone is rich. Or so it seems.

When the Doctor, Amy and Rory look beneath the

surface, they discover a city of secrets. In dark corners, strange creatures are stirring. At the heart of the hall, a great metal dragon oozes gold. Then the Herald appears,

demanding the return of her treasure... And next come the gunships.

The battle for possession of the treasure has begun, and only the Doctor and his friends can save the people of the city from being destroyed in the crossfire of an ancient civil war. But will the King surrender his newfound wealth? Or will he fight to keep it...?

A thrilling, all-new adventure featuring the Doctor, Amy and Rory, as played by Matt Smith, Karen Gilan and Arthur Darvil in the spectacular hit series from BBC Television.

Available now from BBC Books:

The Glamour Chase

by Gary Russell

£6.99 ISBN 978 1 846 07988 7

An archaeological dig in 1936 unearths relics of another time...

And — as the Doctor, Amy and Rory realise — another

place. Another planet.

But if Enola Porter, noted adventuress, has really found evidence of an alien civilisation, how come she isn't

famous? Why has Rory never heard of her? Added to that,

since Amy's been travelling with him for a while now, why does she now think the Doctor is from Mars?

As the ancient spaceship reactivates, the Doctor

discovers that nothing and no one can be trusted. The things that seem most real could actually be literal fabrications —

and very deadly indeed.

Who can the Doctor believe when no one is what they

seem? And how can he defeat an enemy who can bend

matter itself to their will? For the Doctor, Amy and Rory —

and all of humanity — the buried secrets of the past are very much a threat to the present...

A thrilling, all-new adventure featuring the Doctor, Amy and Rory, as played by Matt Smith, Karen Gilan and Arthur Darvil in the spectacular hit series from BBC Television.

Coming soon from BBC Books

The Only Good Dalek

by Justin Richards and Mike Collins

£16.99 ISBN 978 1 846 07984 9

Station 7 is where the Earth Forces send all the

equipment captured in their unceasing war against the

Daleks. It's where Dalek technology is analysed and

examined. It's where the Doctor and Amy have just

arrived. But somehow the Daleks have found out about

Station 7 — and there's something there that they want back.

With the Doctor increasingly worried about the

direction the Station's research is taking, the commander of Station 7 knows he has only one possible, desperate, defence.

Because the last terrible secret of Station 7 is that they don't only store captured Dalek technology. It's also a

prison. And the only thing that might stop a Dalek is

another Dalek...

An epic, ful -colour graphic novel featuring the Doctor and Amy, as played by Matt Smith and Karen Gillan in the spectacular hit series from BBC Television.

Coming soon from BBC Books:

The Bril iant Book of

Edited by Clayton Hickman

£12.99 ISBN 978 1 846 07991 7

Celebrate the rebirth of the UK's number one family drama series with this lavish hardback, containing everything

you need to know about the Eleventh Doctor's first year.

Explore Amy Pond's home village, Leadworth, read a

lost section from Churchill's memoirs that covers his

adventures with the Doctor, and learn all about the legend of the Weeping Angels. See how the Doctor's costume

evolved, how the monsters are made and discover the

trade secrets of writing a thrilling Doctor Who script. Plus interviews with all of the key players and a few secret

celebrity guests...

Including contributions from executive producer Steven

Moffat, stars Matt Smith and Karen Gillan, and scriptwriters Mark Gatiss and Gareth Roberts, among others, and packed with beautiful original illustrations and never-before-seen pictures, The Brilliant Book of Doctor Who is the ultimate companion to the world's most successful science fiction series.

BRAND NEW DOCTOR!

EXCITING NEW ADVENTURES!

SERIES 5 DVDS AVAILABLE NOW!

INCLUDING, EXCLUSIVE TO DVD, THE SPECIAL FEATURE:

The Monster Files

TheDoctorWhoConfidentialteamgetthelow-downonthenew

Doctor'sarch-enemies,withcastinterviewsandunseenfootage!