‘The whole universe was their oyster, you mean?’ Clara said.
‘A garden of delights. Paradise. Eden.’ The Doctor gave the Phaeron a baleful look. ‘Until the serpent came.’
The Phaeron stared back, their eyes empty black orbs and completely unreadable.
The Phaeron…craved…the Imperfection
It spoiled the Phaeron
‘But what was it?’ Clara wondered.
‘Oh I think we can guess,’ said the Doctor. ‘Something too tempting to resist, too attractive to ignore? Something that not even the Phaeron could rise above. Something they craved.’
Clara suddenly understood. ‘It was the Glamour, wasn’t it?’
It was Imperfect
It spoiled the Phaeron
‘But what happened? What did they do?’ asked Tibby.
The Phaeron craved the Imperfection
‘Oh yes,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m beginning to see it now all right. The Glamour came. The Phaeron fell under its spell. And everything went bad.’
‘What, everything?’ Tibby sounded sceptical. ‘It destroyed the whole Phaeron civilisation?’
‘They were perfect, Professor. And that means they were vulnerable – to imperfection, as they call it. Think of it like a virus. They had no defences. Perhaps everything was so good for them they stopped thinking of anything else. They stopped believing that there might be things that weren’t perfect, that wanted to harm them and could harm them. Or perhaps, one day, there was a Phaeron who wasn’t perfect. One who learned to take advantage of the goodwill of the others, one that tricked them and used them and set themselves above the rest.’
‘You mean the Glamour could simply be a rogue Phaeron?’
‘Like the Devil – a fallen angel, thrown out of Heaven,’ Clara realised.
‘It’s not impossible. It would explain a great deal – most people see the Glamour as very attractive and desirable. Perfect, perhaps. They would do anything to possess it – and thus it possesses them.’
Clara looked at the Phaeron wraiths again and felt sorry for them. They just stood, impassive, their long beaklike faces and dark, liquid eyes seemed quite helpless and forlorn.
We tried to make it Perfect
It could not be made Perfect
It was Imperfect
The Phaeron disposed of the Imperfection
‘They destroyed it?’ queried Tibby.
‘How?’ asked the Doctor.
The Phaeron disposed of the Imperfection
‘So they didn’t destroy it. Such an enlightened race would never tolerate capital punishment,’ the Doctor noted approvingly. ‘They caught the Glamour and disposed of it.’
‘Where?’
Deep Time
‘Deep time?’ echoed Clara.
‘Now I see,’ said the Doctor. He pressed the palms of his hands together and paced around the Carthage bridge. ‘The Phaeron drilled a hole in time into this lost planet as a dungeon for the Glamour. That’s how they were planning to dispose of it – send it way back in time, back to before the Phaeron even existed.’
‘The Phaeron had time travel?’
‘Not as such. But they had the ability to make holes in space-time, remember. The Phaeron Roads. They could travel around the universe using a vast network of wormholes. But that’s no way to get rid of the Glamour, so they built a wormhole that only existed in one spatial dimension. A hole through time – going backwards, deeper and deeper.’
‘Like a dungeon,’ said Vent.
‘Or a well,’ said Clara. ‘You said we were stuck in a well, looking up at the sky.’
‘Exactly. And this is it. We’re in the Phaerons’ time dungeon!’
The last road of the Phaeron
The final journey
Deep Time
‘But we can get out, can’t we?’ said Balfour. ‘We’ve got the Carthage. It works. Hobbo says it can still fly.’
‘I reckon it might,’ Hobbo agreed. ‘With a bit of luck and a fair wind.’
The final journey
‘That’s why the Carthage is stuck here!’ the Doctor exclaimed suddenly, smacking one fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘It must have crashed into the Phaeron vessel in the middle of the wormhole as it was disposing of the Glamour.’
‘But I thought all this happened eons ago,’ argued Tibby. ‘The Carthage disappeared only a hundred years ago.’
‘But the Phaeron were drilling a time well into this planet. They were using the last of their wormholes, remember. They’d closed everything else down except for this one – their final journey.’
‘You mean they were taking the Glamour with them?’
‘Yes…’ The Doctor looked suddenly pale as realisation dawned. ‘It was a suicide mission.’
The final journey
Deep Time
Chapter
19
‘Suicide mission?’ The words felt thick and ugly in Clara’s mouth and she felt her stomach lurch a little at the thought. Suddenly, laundry and marking had never seemed so compelling.
‘There was only one way to be sure the Glamour goes all the way down the deepest well they could dig,’ said the Doctor. ‘By taking it there themselves.’
‘But still. Suicide.’
‘You heard them,’ said Tibby sadly. ‘The final journey.’
‘But we can still leave, can’t we?’ asked Balfour. ‘In the Carthage, I mean.’
‘I’ve just done a few checks an’ I’d say it was touch and go,’ said Hobbo. She was leaning against one of the controls panels, arms folded. A sudden spasm of sadness crossed her face and she frowned. ‘I’d feel better if Mitch was here.’
‘But what are we going to do?’ said Balfour, looking more and more worried. ‘I mean – you heard them. They’re on a suicide mission to the dawn of time. We don’t want to join them, do we?’
‘Isn’t there anything we can do, Hobbo?’ asked Tibby.
‘I’d have to try an’ start her up first,’ Hobbo said. ‘I couldn’t say for sure until we tried.’
‘I don’t much fancy the one-way option, either,’ said Clara. She turned to the Doctor. ‘Come on. How can we get this spaceship flying again? You always think of something.’
The Doctor pursed his lips. ‘Well, if we had the TARDIS, things would be a lot simpler, of course.’
‘But we don’t,’ said Balfour.
‘A miracle sure would come in handy right now,’ Hobbo said.
‘But we don’t have the TARDIS,’ repeated Balfour.
‘We haven’t seen the TARDIS since we left the Alexandria,’ agreed Clara. ‘And you said the signal was gone, Doctor.’
‘Yes, I did.’ The Doctor’s eyes grew hooded. ‘But that was before I knew the Phaeron were still here – if only in spirit.’
We know you Time Lord
We remember the coming of the Time Lords
‘I was rather hoping you didn’t,’ said the Doctor.
We remember the coming of the New Universe
The passing of the Time of the Phaeron
‘That was before my time, if you see what I mean,’ the Doctor said. ‘Way before. The Time Lords changed. They fought their own wars and Gallifrey was lost. Perhaps lost for ever.’
Gallifrey knew the Imperfection
‘If you mean the Glamour, then yes. It was a powerful force for evil. The Time Lords could not allow it to influence the universe in the way it wished. And with your power, the Glamour – the Imperfection – could have caused great damage to later civilisations.’
We know this
‘Oh. Right. Sorry.’
Gallifrey warned the Phaeron
The Doctor looked shocked. ‘What? But I thought the Time Lords forced you to close down the Phaeron Roads to stop the Glamour. I thought they caused your destruction.’
The Time Lords could not destroy us
‘Ah.’ The Doctor turned to the others. ‘See? I said they were more powerful than I thought.’
The Pha
eron will deal with their own Imperfection
‘But even if that means destroying yourselves in the process?’
The final journey
Deep Time
‘That’s awful,’ said Tibby softly. ‘They killed themselves just to rid the universe of the Glamour?’
‘Self-sacrifice on a cosmic level,’ the Doctor said.
‘It’s so sad,’ Clara whispered. She looked at the shimmering blue figures, and suddenly they seemed neither frightening nor mysterious – just tragic.
‘Noblesse oblige,’ the Doctor said. ‘They were the perfect race. They did the right thing by the universe, whatever the consequences. They created the Glamour, what they saw as an Imperfection, and so they dealt with it. Or, at least, they’re trying to.’
The final journey must be completed
‘But they’re struck. The Carthage flew straight into their last wormhole as they were about to dispose the Glamour. They’ve been trapped here ever since. And the Glamour is still at large, flitting around the universe causing mayhem.’
‘So the mission failed? It was all for nothing?’
‘Not quite. The Glamour is the Imperfection, remember. It’s part of the Phaeron race. To us it looks like something perfect, something we desire more than anything. That’s how it uses people. But our perfection is their imperfection. It’s a part of them, it’s tied to them – that’s why they’re having to go on the final journey with it.’
‘So if the mission is completed, the Glamour goes with them?’
‘Whether it likes it or not, yes.’
You must leave before the final journey is complete
The Doctor clasped his hands together and frowned. ‘Well, that’s very kind of you. And we would leave – except that we have no means of doing so.’
We know you Time Lord
‘That is very flattering, but…’
We know you…Doctor
The words of the Phaeron boomed in Clara’s mind and suddenly took on fresh meaning. The Doctor’s eyes were glinting like diamonds as he turned to face the Phaeron. ‘Yes! You do know me. You must know me. Because you have my TARDIS, don’t you?’
The Phaeron will make the final journey
Behind the Phaeron, a fresh blue glow appeared in the gloom, growing into the shape of a large, tall box with a lamp on top. Doors and windows appeared in the shimmering rectangle and the words ‘POLICE BOX’ shone out from the roof.
‘It’s a gift,’ said the Doctor. His words were tinged by sadness and humility, and he closed his eyes in relief. ‘They’re grateful to the Time Lords for pointing out their own Imperfection.’
Eventually the blue light faded, and with it the Phaeron also disappeared, like moonbeams behind a cloud. The bridge was suddenly darker; quiet and empty.
‘Erm, Doctor…’ said Clara. ‘Is the TARDIS all right?’
The Doctor’s eyes snapped open. The TARDIS stood proudly in the centre of the room, but the journey seemed to have taken its toll. The paintwork was cracked, peeling off in long strips. The frosted windows where dark and rimmed with dust and grime.
‘Looks like it’s been in the wars, Doc,’ said Hobbo.
Ashen-faced, the Doctor slowly approached the police box. He touched one of the doors, felt the curling blue paintwork crumble. ‘Well…’ he said, very quietly. ‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How many billions of years have you been waiting, I wonder?’
Clara swallowed awkwardly as the Doctor traced his long, trembling fingers over the TARDIS woodwork, tracing the old, cracked sign on the hatch that contained the telephone. ‘How can it have aged like that if it’s been going backwards in time?’ she wondered.
‘Time is relative, Clara. The TARDIS has been tracking back to the source of the time fluxes, the here and now. She must have taken the long road. The Phaeron weren’t to know. They did their best.’
‘We can’t all fit in there anyway,’ said Balfour.
‘We can,’ Clara said. ‘It’s bigger inside. Much bigger.’
Balfour shrugged. ‘If you say so.’
‘It must have dematerialised when it went over the cliff with the Alexandria,’ said the Doctor. ‘The Phaeron probably sensed its presence in the local time-space continuum and picked up it. They’ve kept it ever since.’
‘But…it’s so old.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything to the Phaeron, Clara. They exist outside and at one with time and space.’
Clara had never seen the Doctor looking so lost. He rested his head against the TARDIS and closed his eyes. Clara reached out and touched the time machine. It felt as cold as a gravestone. There was no faint vibration, no humming sound. It was lifeless.
‘Should we go inside?’ she asked. The idea made her feel strangely anxious now.
Slowly, heavily, the Doctor drew the TARDIS key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock. At first it was too stiff to turn. But eventually the lock scraped open and the Doctor pushed the door. It creaked loudly on corroded hinges.
It was dark inside. That was the first thing that properly frightened Clara. The outside of the TARDIS was tough, she knew – practically indestructible, the Doctor would say. She guessed it could survive a fair bit of aging. It was a time machine after all.
But inside was different. The inside was supposed to be inviolate. Untouchable. But time had got inside the TARDIS and ravaged it with a ferocity that took Clara’s breath away. There was not a single light shining on the central console, or any of the surrounding instrument panels. The central column was dark, the glass filaments inside were cloudy and cracked. Normally they would be blazing with a warm orange glow, a fireside glow, welcoming and full of energy and promise. But now there was nothing but emptiness and silence.
Her footsteps echoed on the metal floor as she followed the Doctor down the short gangplank to the control area. He walked slowly around the console, letting his fingers drag over the darkened controls, drawing thick lines through the dust.
‘What’s happened?’ Clara asked, appalled.
‘The TARDIS is dead, Clara,’ the Doctor replied.
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Isn’t it?’ The Doctor looked bleakly at her. His eyes were like chips of blue ice. ‘I brought us here. You, me and the TARDIS. I knew it was going to be dangerous. I said so, right at the start.’
‘It’s always dangerous. Well, nearly always. But usually…’
‘Usually we escape. We survive.’ The Doctor sighed. ‘Well, you needn’t worry there. We can still do that. There’s still the Carthage, remember.’
‘I know, but Hobbo said it may not fly.’
‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll find a way. She has to. Otherwise we’ll all end up like this, eventually.’ The Doctor tapped a knuckle on the TARDIS console. And then, with sudden and explosive fury he smashed his fist down on the metal. He saw Clara flinch as the noise of it echoed around the room and smiled sadly. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘It’s all right, really…’
‘No, I think I’ve broken a finger,’ the Doctor held up his hand with a grimace of pain.
Clara took his hand gently, and closed her fingers around his. His hand felt cold and she thought she could detect a slight tremble. Suddenly his skin looked pale and thin, like an old man’s. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘So am I.’
‘Hey, Doc,’ said Hobbo. She stood in the doorway, poking her head into the console room. ‘I tried firin’ up the Carthage an’ guess what? Looks like we might have a ship after all.’
The Doctor nodded absently. ‘Good, good. That’s good.’
‘Maybe the TARDIS will be better if we get her away from the time well,’ suggested Clara. ‘Maybe once we’re free of the Carthage and the Phaeron, it’ll get better. You know, regenerate or something.’
The Doctor nodded absently. ‘Yes, possibly,’ he agreed, but there was no conviction in his voice.
‘And we can’t just leave the others anyway, can
we?’
‘Others?’
‘They’re going to need you to help get the Carthage working, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, probably.’
She led him away from the console and out of the TARDIS. She was careful to shut the door behind them, wincing as the hinges squealed in protest.
—
Hobbo was busy at the main control stations, lying on her back with her head inside an inspection hatch. Jem was sitting in one of the flight seats. Balfour was helping Tibby clear away cobwebs and weeds from the surfaces.
‘It looks like we’re good to go,’ Balfour said.
Tibby glanced at him uncertainly. To the Doctor she said, ‘I’m sorry about your TARDIS.’
‘It’s…OK,’ the Doctor said heavily. He seemed to be moving slowly, as if he was in a dream, thought Clara. Or a nightmare. He looked back at the husk of the TARDIS and closed his eyes, as if in pain.
There were lights blinking on all the Carthage instruments now and it looked more like the bridge of a spaceship than a mausoleum. Clara thought she could detect a vibration beneath her feet as power started to flood through the vessel. More lights came on in the overhead consoles. The entire ship began to feel warmer and brighter as more systems came online.
‘I wish Dan was with us,’ Jem said as she ran through a sequence of pre-flight checks. ‘He’d know a lot more about this than me.’
‘No kiddin’,’ said Hobbo as she sat up. There was a streak of dirt on her face. ‘I keep thinkin’: what would Mitch do with this?’
‘Do you think you can fly the Carthage?’ Clara asked them.
‘Shouldn’t be a problem. It’s not dissimilar to the Alexandria. Blast-off is automated. I just hope the autorepair systems are back online.’
Hobbo snapped shut the inspection hatch. ‘They’re all firin’ and fixin’ as we speak. It’s all systems go. Quite the old trooper, this ship.’
Deep Time Page 17