by Susan Calman
‘Repeat after me,’ the priest commanded her. ‘I take you as my husband, to be with you always, in wealth and in poverty, in disease and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death separates us.’
The woman parroted the vows.
‘And now you.’ The priest turned to Nikolai, who repeated them.
‘And now,’ said the priest, ‘if anyone here knows any reason why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony …’
‘I do!’ shouted Rose, bounding up. ‘Don’t! Don’t you dare!’
There was a gasp from the crowd as Rose tried to pull the woman away, but she simply smiled her beautiful smile and turned to the assembled company.
‘Ah,’ the woman said. ‘An uninvited guest. A jealous one. And who can be surprised? Guards!’
Several men with large lances stepped forward. Two of them picked up Rose, still wriggling and shouting, and started to bear her away.
Nikolai glanced up at Rose from where he knelt. Then he looked back at the woman in white. He looked at his family. Then he took a very deep breath, and he lifted his sword and sliced through the red ribbon that bound their hands together. Then he jumped to his feet to run after Rose.
The woman let out a loud screech, an unholy noise, and the Doctor leapt towards her, in his hands a torch. The deep, dark, muddy smell of decay hung all about her, and there was death in her eyes.
‘Nikolai, my darling,’ she attempted, but the count’s face was a mask of horror as the Doctor waved the torch closer. Her mouth opened – and then kept on opening, until the skin around her mouth began to crack like wax, all over her perfect white face. Her mouth opened still wider, into a horrifying stretch. Bits of skin started to flake off, revealing blue scales beneath.
There were terrified gasps from the throng. The soldiers holding Rose froze in terror and let her go.
‘If I cannot have it, I can still take it!’ the woman screamed. ‘Give me your hand! Give it to me!’
She had by now morphed completely into a hideous, flaking, ancient monster, its mouth a gaping hole in a white-and-blue face. The creature turned its attention on the painted throng. ‘YOU HAVE NO FUTURES!’ it hissed at them. ‘You. You. You. You. You will all die. This will all crumble into dust. We know this.’ The creature’s voice was a cracked husk, a rasp in the ballroom.
‘Go,’ said the Doctor. ‘Or the humans will rip you to shreds, and you know it.’
‘Yeah!’ shouted Rose, grabbing a sword from the nearest, rather confused-looking chap.
The creature looked around, as the crowd shrank back. But already the guards were recovering from their initial shock and drawing their swords, and those guests in military uniform were edging closer. The creature looked back at the Doctor, who simply sighed.
‘I’ll take you in the TAR–’ he began, as a phalanx of guards moved to block the ballroom door. Not all of them, the Doctor realised to his alarm, were Russian, nor even men. There was now also a group of extremely confused-looking Canadian Mounted Police just beyond the doors, their horses kicking up the snow in the garden, and the wind was blowing stronger and stronger
There was no time left. No time at all. The two worlds were about to collide and pull everything else along with them, like soap suds down a plughole …
The Doctor’s eyes travelled to the red ribbon, still half-tied round the creature’s wrist. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asked.
‘You will bind to me?’ hissed the creature.
‘Well, don’t go getting any ideas …’
There was a sudden commotion beyond the doors. The soldiers inside were moving closer, and the Mounties and the guards at the door were trying to communicate with each other. The Doctor had to hurry.
‘I can give you enough energy to get you home,’ he said. ‘Not enough for you to move again. Not an ounce more.’
The creature looked at him. ‘Do you have enough?’
‘Far too much,’ said the Doctor curtly. He grabbed the remnants of the red ribbon from the startled priest and, with a swift motion, bound his wrist to the monster’s.
In an instant, they both vanished from the ballroom.
Rose took the opportunity of the commotion at the doors to dash back outside. She headed straight for the TARDIS. As she stepped out the main door at the front of the palace, she skidded to a halt. Nikolai was standing at the bottom of the stairs in front of her, head bowed, but he was not alone. He was surrounded by his family. His father was shouting at him. His mother was crying. His five sisters looked forlorn. Nikolai glanced up and caught Rose’s eye. She slowly raised one hand.
A look of determination crossed his face, and he strode over to her. Behind them, the crowd of ball guests had begun charging out of the palace and down the front steps.
‘I can’t take you with me,’ Rose said, feeling her resolve wobble and thinking, But he’s just one man. It wouldn’t really matter, would it? The Doctor would be able to fix it, wouldn’t he?
But Nikolai was nodding his head. ‘I understand. I realise I cannot go with you,’ he said. ‘You have shown me what I have to do. You have shown me what I need to fight for: a happier world. The world you come from.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that my world is ha–’ Rose began, but Nikolai had bent down quickly and taken her hand. He kissed it gently and firmly, and his lips lingered. Then he straightened up and, with one last look into her eyes, he marched away from her, out alone into the cold, cold night, the crowd parting to let him through.
The Doctor was already back in the TARDIS by the time Rose got there, returned from the sudden journey to the Causubus ship, and possibly the shortest marriage in his history. He was preparing what he called a ‘puncture repair kit’. Rose was too tired to ask him what it really was. He seemed tired. He looked older. Rose asked him what he had had to give; but he did not answer, and there was silence as he busied himself tidying up the edges of Saint Petersburg.
She sat in silence as they travelled back to 2005, and the Doctor did the same thing there – carefully repairing the puncture in time while she listlessly packed up the telescope and tidied the apartment. Finally, Rose changed back into her jeans, which felt strange to her now. She picked out the biggest, warmest coat in the TARDIS wardrobe, then made one request of the Doctor.
Before long, the Doctor and Rose were standing together in front of the Alexander Column, which stands in Palace Square in Saint Petersburg and was raised to commemorate Russia’s victory over France in the Napoleonic wars. From there, they then went to visit the archives of the war dead.
When they returned to the TARDIS, Rose disappeared inside before emerging once more into the frosted air. She was holding a helium balloon. She let go of the ribbon and let the balloon float off up into the air.
Silently, she and the Doctor watched it until it vanished into the sky far, far above.
Clara and the Maze of Cui Palta
BY SUSAN CALMAN
The Doctor stood at the door of the living room, his head cocked to one side like a curious sparrow.
Clara sighed heavily, turned to face him, placed her hands very deliberately on her hips and spoke in a tone that warned of impending annoyance. ‘What? Why do you keep staring at me? Have I grown a horn from the middle of my forehead?’
As Clara glowered at him, the Doctor tried in vain to diffuse the tension by saying all the words in his head at once. ‘No, no! Of course you haven’t. And, even if you did have a horn in the middle of your head, you wouldn’t need me to tell you about it. For a start, the force of keeping your head in an upright position would put extra strain on your neck, meaning that you would have already realised you were staring at the floor a lot, what with the big, heavy horn in the middle of your face.’
Clara narrowed her eyes as the Doctor babbled on.
‘On the other hand, if you did have a horn on your head, imagine how useful that would be! You could store bits of paper on it, eat sushi with it – I know you like sush
i. It’s healthy and tasty at the same time, and so very tiny and perfect. In fact, I often think how good it would be if I could eat it on the go, you know. Perhaps if I had a horn growing from the middle of my forehead to keep it on …’
His stream of consciousness slowly ground to a halt as Clara started tapping her foot. The Doctor knew that hands on hips and a tapping foot were signs of a dangerous level of annoyance for Clara.
‘Well? What is it then?’ she said. ‘What’s so fascinating about my face?’
The Doctor gulped, carefully choosing his words. ‘Well, it’s not so much your face as your hair, actually. You just appear to have something in it. It’s all sort of … lumpy.’
Clara put her hands to her head and ran them through her hair. As she did so, a shower of popcorn cascaded to the floor. One little bit remained fixed in place though, and stood proudly on the top of her head, making her look like a cupcake with a cherry on top.
‘Great! Now I have to clean this up as well!’
Clara flopped down on to the sofa and sighed. The Doctor quickly sat down next to her, taking the bit of popcorn from her head and eating it before she realised it was there.
‘I love Artie and Angie, but sometimes I feel like all I do is clean up after them!’
The Doctor nodded, because he knew that’s what he was supposed to do. Meanwhile, he was quietly and slowly chewing what was turning out to be a very stale piece of toffee popcorn that refused to be eaten no matter how hard he tried.
‘I got excited the other day trying out a new fabric softener. Can you imagine? A new fabric softener! Life on Earth can be pretty dull sometimes …’
The Doctor nodded again. Somehow the toffee had made a bond between his teeth – his jaws felt like they were being superglued together. He grinned manically, trying desperately to prise his molars apart.
Clara appeared to take this as an encouraging sign. ‘But the solution is right here, isn’t it? Well, not right here but right outside. The TARDIS. We should go somewhere new! Mix things up a bit.’
The Doctor’s teeth remained firmly stuck together. He had no choice but to continue to nod. The more he did so, the more excited Clara got.
‘Yes!’ she enthused. ‘Somewhere beautiful, somewhere magnificent! As far away from fabric softener as you can get.’ She jumped up, put on her jacket and went to the front door. ‘Come on then! We’ve got an adventure to go on! And you can stop nodding now. You’re excited – I get it.’
Clara disappeared through the front door, and walked purposefully towards the TARDIS.
At last, with an aggressive and somewhat uncomfortable wrench, the Doctor managed to disconnect his mandibles from the sticky treat. He let out a huge gasp of relief, and rubbed his jaw.
‘Looks like we’re going on a trip then,’ he muttered.
On his way to the front door, he stopped, turned suddenly and eyed the pile of popcorn on the floor. He bent down quickly and stuffed a handful in his pocket.
‘Just in case I need a snack. We are going on an adventure, after all …’
Inside the TARDIS, Clara clapped her hands gleefully. This was her favourite bit of any adventure: the not knowing exactly what was about to happen.
She watched as the Doctor flicked switches and knobs on the console, moving from one to the other in a seemingly random order. It was like he was dancing to an ethereal tune only he could hear.
‘Beautiful and magnificent, you say?’ he said. ‘Away from everyday life, I hear you ask? I think I have just the place!’
Clara gripped the railing as the TARDIS tumbled and turned its way through space and time. She was sure that the Doctor was making the ship fly with even more speed and vigour than usual just to cheer her up.
‘So where are we going?’ she asked.
The Doctor threw another piece of popcorn into his mouth and started chewing. Fortunately for him, this piece wasn’t as stale – or as sticky – as its predecessor, and he happily chewed and swallowed it before taking another piece and popping it in his mouth. ‘That’s more like it!’ he said to himself, and Clara glanced at him quizzically.
He spun the TARDIS monitor round, revealing a message on the screen: IT’S A SURPRISE!
They bumped to a halt and Clara whooped, punching the air with delight. This was what she loved – time away from babysitting and laundry and all the boring bits of everyday life. Laughing, she ran across the control room, ready for the TARDIS door to swing open. When it did, though, she had to turn away suddenly, covering her eyes. The interior of the ship had been flooded with the brightest sunlight she’d ever seen.
‘Use these, Miss Oswald.’ The Doctor threw her a pair of sunglasses, which she put on. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the sunlight, and the Doctor joined her at the door, wearing a matching pair.
‘Sunglasses are cool,’ said the Doctor, as he stepped out into the sunshine.
Clara could barely conceal her joy as she took in their surroundings. Everything sparkled and shimmered, and vibrant colours sprang from every nook and cranny of the bright white buildings that littered the landscape. Houses and shops rose out of the terracotta earth, and it was as though a giant had looked down on the planet and dropped the buildings in a pretty arrangement. A vast, glowing city spread out in front of them like ripples from the waves.
The Doctor stood in the middle of the street and opened his arms wide. ‘Welcome to Cui Palta! Voted Most Beautiful City in the Galaxy three years in a row by readers of Space Health Monthly.’
‘You made that up, Doctor.’
‘I did not! How do you think I keep in such exceptional shape? I particularly enjoy Space Health’s pull-out sections on exercise while in zero gravity. Amazing what you can do with a bag of rice and some rope!’
Clara hugged the Doctor quickly and started to walk down the street. Together, they wandered slowly through the city, peering into doorways, standing at the top of winding stairways, breathing in the fresh air deeply. There were signs everywhere for treatments and spas, deckchair rentals and sweet treats. But, as they explored, Clara grew increasingly uneasy. Something very important was very obviously missing from this beautiful place.
After a while they came to a small, shady square. As the Doctor moved forward, Clara grabbed his arm.
‘Doctor, don’t you think there’s something strange about this place?’
The Doctor shrugged, apparently unconcerned. ‘It seems perfectly lovely to me. Maybe a little warm for my liking, but I’ll get used to it.’
Clara shook her head. ‘No, not the weather. There’s no one else here! Not a single soul. We’ve been past all these spas and things, so why isn’t there anyone in them? Customers, staff – anyone?’
The Doctor seemed to reconsider. He narrowed his eyes and slowly swept the horizon with them. ‘Hmmm … I suppose it is a little odd. It was a lot busier the last time I was here. The queue for the hot tubs went right round the block. Maybe it’s a bank-holiday weekend?’
Clara smiled. The idea of an alien planet having a bank holiday seemed ridiculous. She was still uneasy, though. It was so very quiet. More than that – it was completely deserted.
Seeing her frown, the Doctor tried to lighten her mood. ‘Sometimes people just move on. Maybe they found the constant sunshine a bit too much. I may even have to take my jacket off soon, which as you know is a very occasional event. Now, let me show you the bluest water you’ll ever see!’
He held out his hand and Clara took it. They trotted down some steps carved from stone. On either side was a stream that gurgled and stuttered its way to a pool so blue it looked like it had been painted by an artist.
Nothing should be that perfect a shade of blue, Clara thought, but she kept it to herself. The Doctor didn’t seem worried. She was probably being too cautious.
They carried on, and eventually reached the crest of a hill. From where they stood, the Doctor pointed out the various temples below, each ornate and intricate in its design. Here and there between the white b
uildings of the city were forests of tall bushes laden with yellow flowers. Some stood as high as the buildings themselves, and they waved as one with the gentle breeze, like reeds in the water.
The Doctor took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. Clara did the same, taking in a huge lungful of air. She immediately sneezed – a violent, noisy sneeze that reverberated around the streets like a small explosion.
‘Oh dear! That was a loud one. Take this.’ The Doctor pulled his handkerchief from his top pocket and passed it to Clara. ‘You seem to need it more than I do.’
Clara dabbed her nose with the hankie, then put it in her jacket pocket.
The Doctor scrunched up his face, looking out over the bright, sunlit city. Putting one hand on his hip, he placed a foot upon a convenient rock and gestured with his free hand at the great outdoors.
‘Sometimes, Clara,’ he said grandly, ‘it’s important to stop and smell the flowers. To get away from all the rush and bother. To take a deep breath and enjoy the beauty. Lovely, isn’t it, Clara? Clara!’
She had disappeared from the Doctor’s side. He spotted a shady alleyway behind him – the only place Clara could’ve gone – and walked quickly down it, calling her name. The alleyway soon broadened out and he spotted her, sunglasses in her hand, squinting at a wooden sign. It was weatherworn and obviously very old, with faded writing that was only just legible.
‘The Maze of Cui Palta,’ Clara read aloud. ‘How exciting! A puzzle to solve!’ Clara grinned at the Doctor, who had come to stand beside her. ‘This place is gorgeous, but there’s not much else to do, is there? Let’s go in!’
The Doctor groaned.
‘Oh, come on, Doctor! Mazes are fun!’
‘Fun!’ he scoffed. ‘Hardly! Not much of a challenge, are they? Mazes are a simple matter of mathematics. I could solve any maze in the galaxy quicker than you could say “Daleks smell”. Mazes are rubbish. Let’s look in the temples instead. Lots of lovely temples around here.’