Doctor Who

by Cavan Scott

  A compact laser deluxe too. A tasty bit of kit.

  ‘I’d do as he says,’ Missy told Yayani. ‘I reckon he’s the boss.’ She peered at the name tag on the man’s tunic. ‘And I’m right. Chief Mitchell. Pleased to meet you, Chiefy.’

  ‘You never stop talking, do you?’ Yayani asked, bending to place her staser carefully on the floor.

  ‘Not if I can help it. Now, kick it over to him.’

  Yayani reluctantly obliged, Mitchell stopping the skidding gun with his foot. Satisfied, he took another step forward, his own laser outstretched.

  ‘Identify yourself,’ he growled.

  ‘And what if we don’t?’ Missy asked.

  ‘Then we shoot.’

  ‘You could have done that already.’

  ‘They want to know how we got on board,’ Yayani realised.

  Missy beamed at her. ‘See? Not as stupid as you look.’

  ‘I said, identify yourselves,’ Mitchell repeated, his gun arm now fully extended.

  ‘No, shan’t,’ Missy barked, slapping the computer terminal. Blast doors dropped from the ceiling to either side of them, slicing neatly through Mitchell’s outstretched arm, rending his hand at the wrist. They could hear the chief screaming as the hand dropped to the floor, the laser deluxe still gripped in its twitching digits.

  ‘What was that?’ Yayani said as Missy scooped up the severed extremity with the tip of her brolly.

  ‘I told you … fun.’ She prised the Chief’s gun from the dead fingers and passed it to Yayani. ‘Yes, we could have sonicked the information from the computer, but then I wouldn’t have been able to do this.’ Missy pressed Mitchell’s rapidly cooling palm against the computer screen, unlocking the security system.

  ‘Look,’ she said, checking the logs. ‘Research suite 1804 has chronometric screening.’

  Yayani nodded slowly. ‘So that must be where the time experiments are taking place.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Missy said, slipping Mitchell’s hand into a pocket in her skirts. ‘To the eighteenth floor it is.’

  To each side of them, the blast doors started to rise, before jolting to a halt, inches from the floor. Yayani pointed the laser deluxe at the gap.

  ‘We’ll have to get past the rest of the guards first.’

  ‘Obviously.’ Hooking her parasol over her arm, Missy tapped her Vortex Manipulator. ‘Now let’s see … General Slaphead has fused the temporal-shift actuator, but the teleport …’

  She pressed a button. Missy and Yayani vanished in a blaze of light just as the guards finally forced open the blast doors and crowded through.

  Twelve storeys up, Missy and Yayani materialised in a laboratory filled with gleaming equipment.

  The sole occupant of the room – a pot-bellied alien with purple skin and numerous arms – swung round to face them in shock. He was wearing a white lab coat and held a datapad in his six-fingered hand.

  ‘Who are you?’ he squeaked as Missy tossed her parasol towards him.

  ‘Here, catch.’

  The scientist did as he was told, his fingers closing around the umbrella’s shaft. Immediately, he froze, unable to move.

  ‘Oops, sorry,’ Missy apologised, pulling the datapad from his grasp. ‘I forgot to mention the muscle-retention field that activates whenever someone else grabs my brolly. You won’t be able to move until I prise it out of your useless fingers, but don’t worry. You can still breathe, more or less.’

  Missy strolled over to the door and used the datapad to reprogram the lock with a new passcode. ‘That should keep security busy.’

  ‘But will it keep them out?’ Yayani asked, holstering the laser deluxe.

  ‘Unless they can guess all thirty-two letters of my real name, I should think so,’ Missy replied, smashing the datapad against a nearby table before walking back to the petrified scientist. ‘Now, just what have you been up to, you naughty little beetroot?’

  She scanned the contents of the work benches and computer screens.

  ‘All pretty innocuous, not to mention du-ull. So dull, that I might have to knit myself a tea-cosy with your central nervous system just to alleviate the boredom.’ Missy peered into the alien’s troubled face. ‘Unless, we can find the main event.’

  Never taking her eyes from him, she licked the end of her finger before holding it up as if testing for wind.

  ‘Ah, yes – time distortion. That’s what we’re looking for, Mr …’

  She glanced down at the scientist’s name tag.

  ‘… Doctor Kalub.’ She gave the alien’s cheek a sharp slap. ‘The General will be pleased. He may even buy me an ice cream.’ She brushed past Kalub, dancing up to a doorway at the far end of the laboratory. ‘Do you like ice cream, Yayani?’ she called back, swishing her skirts from left to right. ‘Perhaps when this is all over I should take you to Rome, treat you to a choc ice.’

  ‘I’ll be heading straight back to Gallifrey,’ Yayani told her, following close behind, ‘same as always.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see about …’

  Missy opened the door, stepping across the threshold only to stop in her tracks.

  Yayani tried to peer past her. ‘What is it?’ Her mouth dropped open at the sight.

  The creature was roughly humanoid. Trapped within a bubble of swirling energy, it writhed like it was drowning in water, its arms and legs kicking out into the air. No, more than that: the limbs were phasing in and out of existence, stretching back and forth through the lines of perception; solid one moment, like smoke the next. Its entire body was shifting, as were both its age and gender. It was old and it was young, a bone-white skeleton and a cluster of cells, man, woman, child, corpse, in constant flux and eternal agony.

  Yayani swallowed, swaying on her feet, and Missy caught her arm to steady her. The younger woman grabbed Missy’s hand, squeezing it, trying not to swoon.

  ‘Chronographic containment field,’ Missy said quietly. ‘Don’t worry, the dizziness will pass.’

  ‘It’s horrible,’ Yayani said, trying to break Missy’s grip. The renegade wouldn’t let go, holding her tight.

  ‘Why did they arrest you? The Time Lords. What did you do?’

  Yayani looked surprised at the question. ‘This isn’t the time.’

  ‘This is exactly the time.’

  Yayani turned on her, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘I tried to assassinate the Lord President. There, are you happy now?’

  Missy turned back to the creature in the bubble. ‘I assume you weren’t successful.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘But you’re still with us,’ Missy said. ‘Still alive and kicking. Presidential assassins, even the rubbish ones, rarely escape the dispersal chamber. Trust me, I know.’

  ‘They gave me a choice …’

  Missy watched the creature twist and turn, becoming a swarm of particles before coalescing back into matter. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

  ‘I could be scattered across the Vortex,’ Yayani went on, ‘or serve the man I tried to kill.’

  ‘On special missions. Secret missions. Hence the time ring. Pretty.’

  Yayani snorted, playing with the band on her finger. ‘Hardly. It’s grafted to my body. A permanent reminder of my shame.’

  ‘You could chop off your hand’ Missy patted the bulge in her skirt pocket. ‘Like poor old Chiefy.’

  ‘And activate the explosive nanites they implanted into my hearts? No regenerations, remember.’ Yayani swallowed. ‘Turns out I’m a coward.’

  ‘Survival isn’t cowardice.’ Missy took a step closer to the creature and reached out to touch its protective bubble, snatching her fingers back as the energy cocoon crackled and sparked. ‘We’re going to have to deactivate the containment field if we’re going to put this thing out of its misery.’ She turned to address Doctor Kalub, who was still standing motionless in the other room. ‘How do you activate it? The interface?’ She huffed when no answer came. ‘Of course, you can’t talk, can you? N
ever mind. I’ll do it myself. I mean, I might hit the wrong button and blow up the entire station, but that’s the risk we’re going to have to take.’

  She clicked her fingers and a cluster of holographic slabs appeared around her. She started working them like a concert pianist, cycling through Kalub’s notes and methodology.

  Yayani peered over her shoulder and frowned. The text on the virtual screens was indecipherable, a meaningless scrawl of random letters and symbols.

  ‘Why isn’t your TARDIS translating?’

  ‘Because this isn’t a language, not one stored in the TARDIS databanks anyway. It’s an alphabet of Doctor Kalub’s devising, complete gobbledegook to anyone but him.’

  ‘Then, how are you reading it?’

  ‘Because I’m exceptional in every way. Why did you try to kill Rassilon?’

  Once again, the abrupt change in conversation put Yayani on the back foot, just as it was supposed to. A shadow passed over her face. ‘I was alone.’

  ‘No one to talk to and nothing to do, so you kill the Lord President of Gallifrey to pass the time? And you from the noble House of Stillhaven. What would your Patriarch say?’

  ‘That’s just it. I didn’t have a patriarch. Stillhaven was silent, every hall empty.’

  That made Missy pause. ‘Every hall? Stillhaven is one of the largest families on Gallifrey.’

  ‘Not any more. Not since the War. We voted against Rassilon on the Final Sanction.’

  Missy’s hearts skipped a beat. A memory flashed across her mind’s eye, a memory from another time, another body. Rassilon standing victorious, staff in hand, flanked by two Time Lords, a man and the woman, forced to hide their faces in shame. She knew the woman of course, but the man she hadn’t recognised until now – the Patriarch of Stillhaven.

  ‘Rassilon used the rest of the House as test subjects in a series of experiments,’ Yayani continued, her voice catching. ‘Guinea pigs, isn’t that what the humans say?’

  ‘What kind of experiments?’

  Yayani shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t even know they were gone. He must have wiped my memories. If I hadn’t found the recall cube that my brother used to play with as a child …’

  ‘You would never have remembered at all.’ Missy’s voice was softer than even she expected, as she shut down the bubble’s safety relays one by one. ‘I wonder why he left you behind?’

  ‘I suppose he made a mistake.’

  ‘Not in his nature.’ From the corner of her eye, Missy followed the tear that ran down Yayani’s cheek. ‘Anyway. Doctor Kalub!’ she called across the lab, as she reached the end of the scientist’s notes. ‘Still with us? You know, you’re really quite clever. Genetically engineering a creature with a biological time-and-space-travel capability, and then imprisoning it in a stasis field. The creature tries to escape, emitting energies that are harvested as a perpetual source of power. Of course, it means never-ending pain for your poor little guinea pig.’

  Beside her Yayani stiffened. Missy had chosen her words well.

  ‘So, yes. Quite clever. But you’re not perfect, not by a long shot. The dampeners are failing bit by bit. Before long, the creature will be free. That’s what the Lord Prognosticator foresaw. It will escape, and the real magic will happen.’

  She pointed at one of the holographic slabs, showing Yayani an X-ray of the creature.

  Yayani leaned closer, eyebrows raising. ‘It’s pregnant.’

  ‘Engineered that way,’ Missy confirmed, ‘so it has a reason to escape. It’s not fighting for its own life, but that of its family.’

  Mitchell’s laser deluxe was back in Yayani’s hand. She had turned, pointing it through the arch to the back of Kalub’s head. This time the aim wasn’t true. This time, Yayani was shaking, consumed by fury.

  ‘Monster.’

  ‘Just to be clear, she’s talking about you, dear, not your creation.’ Missy smiled as she finally managed to access the containment field’s control matrix. ‘I suspect she’s going to kill you.’ She broke off from the controls and sidled up to Yayani. ‘Although a shot to the head? That’s a swift death, almost merciful. Did you show this creature any mercy, doctor? Did you worry about its pain?’

  Yayani didn’t say a word. Her jaw was clenched, that muscle in the corner of her eye beating a fierce tempo.

  Missy started playing with her Vortex Manipulator, sending commands from the tiny screen to the parasol in Kalub’s hand. ‘So, no shot to the head, that’s out. I know! How about using the muscle-retention field? That would be nasty; and messy too, thinking about it. Every bone in your body cracked from within, your vital organs crushed into paste. Oooh, if it were down to me, I’d make it voice-activated …’

  The Manipulator gave a beep.

  ‘It’s a good job I’ve just switched control to Yayani. She’d never put you through that all, even though you experimented on a living soul without care or conscience. She’d never contract the field, crushing you where you stood … and all by saying a single word …’

  ‘What’s the word?’ Yayani asked, glowering at the helpless scientist.

  Missy smiled, showing her teeth. ‘The one thing we all fight for, in the end.’

  She returned to the containment matrix, trying to lose herself in her work as the research suite lapsed into silence. She didn’t even look up as Yayani barked a single word:

  ‘Family.’

  There was a faint buzz, followed by a strangled grunt and the delicious sound of bones popping, one after another. Missy didn’t recognise Doctor Kalub’s species and therefore had no way of knowing how many bones made up his skeleton, but she’d counted at least 200 separate fractures before the scientist collapsed into a heap of quivering jelly.

  Yayani turned back to her, her face a blank mask. ‘Are we done here?’

  Missy acted as if nothing had just happened. ‘Almost. You can see why Rassilon is worried. Natural time travellers running loose, multiplying like rabbits? Soon, the whole Vortex will be swarming with the things.’

  ‘Why should the President care? There are plenty of time-shifters in the universe.’

  ‘Like the Tharils?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Rassilon had them sterilised in the first year of the Time War.’ Missy didn’t look up; she didn’t need to. She could imagine the look on Yayani’s face. ‘Then there were the Porfue and the Krajonnu … No one can be allowed to threaten the Time Lords’ supremacy. Not any more.’

  ‘So, we have to kill it.’ Yayani’s words were a statement, not a question, devoid of emotion.

  ‘Oh yes, that can’t be helped. Poor darling. And that’s the real reason they had to recruit me. The Doctor wouldn’t have the stomach for this, not with those bleeding hearts.’ She finished, the holo-slabs switching off.

  ‘What have you done?’

  Missy picked fluff from her sleeve. ‘The containment field is shutting down. I reckon we’ll have at least three milliseconds before she disappears into the Vortex.’

  Yayani held out the laser so she could take it.

  Missy tutted. ‘Oh, I think we can do better than that …’

  Retreating back to the door, Missy pulled the onyx hat pin from her hair. It was long and slender, ending in a bulbous black orb. Gripping the needle, Missy held it out in front of her, like a gun. The orb split into four, peeling back like the petals of a perverse metal flower, revealing another glowing sphere inside.

  ‘What is that?’

  Missy lips curled at the question. ‘A TCE – Tissue Compression Eliminator. Haven’t used one in donkey’s years.’

  ‘Then what are you waiting for?’ Yayani urged her. ‘Do it.’

  Missy’s expression hardened. ‘Say something nice.’

  The creature in the bubble howled, and the TCE fired.

  In his chambers on Gallifrey, the General looked up from his desk at a familiar sound. He turned, looking to where Yayani usually materialised when returning from a mission.

  His
eyes narrowed. The girl wasn’t in her customary place.

  But surely that had been the sound of her time ring? It was unmistakable.

  Putting down the data-scroll, he stood, walking over to the window. Where was she?

  He stopped, spotting something at his feet. He looked down, and felt his stomach tighten.

  A figure lay on the floor, no bigger than a doll. Its skin was dark, its hair blond. It wore a leather jacket, a perfectly crafted gun belt slung across its hips, and, glinting in the light of Gallifrey’s suns, he could make out a band of gold on the ring finger of its right hand. The General swallowed, fully aware that if he examined the miniaturised body he would find a tattoo on its … on her wrist. A bisected cross, containing the biodata of one of his best agents.

  He took a step back, noticing for the first time a scrap of paper beneath the figure. His armour creaked as he crouched down, carefully pulling the note free. He stayed there, on his haunches as he turned the paper over.

  The handwriting was familiar, and the message clear. Three words, written in fresh green ink:

  Not your puppet.

  Missy’s TARDIS slipped through the Vortex, heading to who knew where. The leather-bound notebook lay on the floor at the foot of the console, discarded, the list of power sources within no longer required.

  Missy stood at the controls, checking the power readout.

  Jettisoning the Eye of Harmony, that had been tricky, but not as problematic as trapping its replacement. She looked up to the scanner, watching Kalub’s creature writhe in its new containment field, one that would never fracture, nor fail. Not that the creature would ever stop trying to escape. Missy was counting on that. It would rant and rail and scream and struggle, providing more than enough energy to fuel a Type 45 TARDIS. She was no longer dependent on Gallifrey, or the black hole trapped deep beneath the Panopticon. Best of all, there was nothing the General, the High Council, or even Rassilon could do about it. To think, she’d wasted all that energy tracking down a replacement for the Eye, knowing all too well that it was only a matter of time before the High Council came a-calling … and then Rassilon had dropped the solution straight into her lap.