Oh Elizabeth! He’d have leapt down from the scaffold and kissed her, if he hadn’t known she was a Zygon.
‘Will you marry me?’ he repeated because Elizabeth was still just staring at him, one hand pressed against her chest, as if trying to contain a storm within. It was, he conceded, a reasonable impersonation of strong emotion for an upright squid.
‘But I tortured you!’ she said.
‘Was there torture?’ he laughed, gaily. ‘I only noticed you.’
‘Yesterday, I nearly cut your head cut off.’
‘Oh, let’s not dwell on the past. Elizabeth, of England, I’m asking you again—for the third time, in fact—will you marry me?’
And the words burst from her. ‘Oh, my dear, sweet love, of course I will.’
He leapt to his feet, triumphant. ‘Gotcha!’ he shouted.
‘My love?
‘Oh, forget the play acting, I’m on to you. Sorry, dear, but the performance just isn’t good enough. Even Alison saw through it!’
‘Alison?’
‘My horse.’
‘My dear, that horse is male.’
‘Yeah, and he’s called Alison. Don’t box him in, he’s very easily triggered. I was going to call him Trigger, actually, that escalated quickly. He didn’t want to carry us both out here, but I told him it was going to be an Earth defence picnic and that’s the only reason he let us both on.’
‘Your words make no sense, my love!’
‘Then let’s break it down, nice and simply. One! The real Elizabeth would never have accepted my marriage proposal. Two! The real Elizabeth would notice when I just casually mention having a different face. But then the real Elizabeth isn’t an alien shape-shifter from outer space! And—ding!’
He’d pulled his Zygon detector from his pocket, and thrust his wire-trailing but strangely magnificent lash-up of clock-and-smartphone in front of her face, managing to keep the bit made from coat-hangers to the back. She stared at it with what must have been shock and awe, but somehow came out looking a bit like pity.
‘What is that?’
‘It’s a machine that goes ding! Made it myself—it lights up in the presence of shape-shifter DNA! Also it can microwave frozen dinners from up to twenty feet and download comics from the future—I never know when to stop. Didn’t work properly at the Court. Too many people, all that cheese-breath. But since we rode out here, it’s been going non-stop!’
‘My love, I do not understand.’
‘I’m not your love, and yes you do! You’re a Zygon!’
‘A Zygon.’
‘Oh, stop it, it’s over. A Zygon, yes. Big red rubbery thing, covered in suckers. Surprisingly good kisser. Do you think the real Queen of England would just decide to share the throne with any old handsome bloke in a tight suit, just cos he’s got amazing hair and a nice horse?’
He glanced over at Alison as he spoke, but there was only a discarded saddle and tether under the tree, and where his horse had stood a moment before, a mass of something red and glistening was thrashing on the grass. For a moment the Doctor wondered if his horse had exploded, or somehow burst itself inside out, but then a pair of tiny eyes blinked open among the jumble of organs, and an obscene foetus-like head started to rise up, as if forming itself out of the boiling viscera. Bones cracked into new places, nerves and sinews slithered and snapped around them, and in moments, a jerking, pitiful meat-thing, as ravaged and skeletal as a dissected rat but taller than a man, was struggling upright on stick legs. Flesh stretched and popped and bloated around it and suckers starting forming out all over its crimson skin. What now stood there, like a humanoid squid, with a giant baby head and a tiny chimp face, was a fully formed Zygon.
Understanding bore down on the Doctor, like a grand piano from a high window. The horse, the horse. His detector hadn’t been detecting Elizabeth at all, it was the horse. His own horse had been the Zygon all along. Not the Queen, the horse. ‘Oh!’ was all he managed aloud, followed by another ‘Oh!’ when he realised that the woman now gripping his arm was not only the real Elizabeth, but also his fiancée. I’m going to be King, he thought, as he grabbed her hand and started to run.
Directly ahead there was a crumbled old folly (no, not a folly, wrong period, a real ruin) and a thick forest swept away to the right. The trees would be decent cover, but scattering wildlife would provide an easy means of tracking them, while the ruin was both less predictable and the counterintuitive choice. Following the instincts of a lifetime, he made straight for the thing that looked like a folly.
‘I don’t understand,’ Elizabeth was protesting. ‘What was that creature, what’s happening?’
‘We’re being attacked by a shape-shifting alien from outer space, formerly disguised as my horse.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means we’re going to need a new horse.’
He threw her ahead of him, into the shadows of the ruin. Quick scan: there were two other exits, one climbable wall, and a useable vantage point with a nearby pile of throwable rocks. She was smart, Elizabeth, she could make something out of this. ‘I’ll hold it off, you run, or hide, or do a clever thing—but stay alive, your people need you!’
He was turning to go but she grabbed him back. ‘And I need you alive for our wedding night!’ The kiss was wet, noisy and engulfing, and he found himself thinking of the forming Zygon.
‘I will return with help,’ she called over her shoulder, as she dashed off through the ruin. He didn’t doubt that for a second. In fact, he thought, frowning, she wouldn’t normally run away for any reason—certainly not because he’d suggested it—and the only times he’d ever seen her kiss anyone it was to stop them thinking straight. He wondered briefly what it said about him that on meeting a Queen with a steel-trap mind and gold-plated leadership skills, he had immediately assumed she was a squid from space—at which point he decided he’d be more comfortable being attacked by an alien. But when he turned to face the approaching Zygon, the meadow was deserted. A flock of rabbits raced across the grass, but there was no other movement anywhere.
‘Never break eye contact with a shape-shifter,’ Borusa had droned at the Academy, ‘because that’s the last time you’ll see it. Or more accurately, you’ll see it everywhere you look, and never be able trust anyone again.’
The Doctor noticed he was running, and wondered why. Oh, of course the rabbits! As usual, his legs had figured it out first. Zygons were multi-nucleate, and there were plenty of accounts of them transforming into flocks of birds, so why not a flock of rabbits? Provided the scattered nuclei remained within reasonable distance, the psychic link would stay viable, and the Zygon could sustain its consciousness as a network, rather than an individual. The tactical advantages to a Zygon alone in the field were clear, even if it risked losing part of itself to a pie. And blimey, rabbits couldn’t half run!
The flock was sweeping round a hill, and the Doctor sped up—he needed to keep them in view.
One of the rabbits had peeled off. It was sniffing round a patch of greener grass as the others disappeared from sight. The Doctor slowed. What was this? The swarm leader? Was he being invited to parlay?
The rabbit raised its head from chewing the grass, and eyed him innocently. He came to a halt and held its gaze for a long moment. Finally, in his gravest tones, he said: ‘Hello, Alison.’
To its credit, the rabbit kept its calm. Okay, thought the Doctor, if that’s how you want to play it!
‘Whatever you’ve got planned,’ he said, ‘forget it. I’m the Doctor. I’m 900 hundred years old. I’m from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I’m the oncoming storm, the bringer of darkness …’
He broke off, because the rabbit was chewing the grass again, and there was a terrible possibility at the back of his mind which was trying to get his attention. He sighed. ‘You’re basically just a rabbit, aren’t you?’
The rabbit glanced briefly at him, and hopped off after the others.
If
he’d had something to kick, he’d have kicked it halfway round the planet. How could he be so stupid? Why was he getting everything so wrong?? The Queen! The horse! The rabbit! What was the matter with him? Was the shadow of the past so deep now, he couldn’t find his feet?
And then, almost before he knew it, he was running again, faster this time, back the way he’d come. Elizabeth! Damn her!
The ruin where he’d left her, was coming into view. He prayed to everything he’d never believed in that it hadn’t become her tomb, and tried to stop his mind from racing.
The kiss! She’d kissed him the same way she kissed everyone: to put him off his game. Just as she’d pretended to accept his proposal, to make him feel special.
The ruin was empty, but when he scrambled up the wall to scan the area, he couldn’t see her. Okay, she must have headed to the trees.
She didn’t want him for a husband, she wanted him for her war cabinet, and she’d played him perfectly. Just like all the other love-sick hopefuls at court, bouncing around her like corgis.
Into the trees now! Thick and dark, but look, see everything! Broken twig, wisp of gold on branch—keep running, keep noticing!
And of course, she hadn’t run away. She’d realised that she, not he, was the Zygon’s target, and she was leading it away from him, not the other way round. And it wasn’t because she liked him, it was because she was the Queen and it was her duty.
Single footprint, scattered pile of leaves, two birds returning to a tree after a recent disturbance—everything, Doctor, see it all, and run, run, run. It was much easier to save them, he thought, when they weren’t so much cleverer than him.
Through the trees ahead, a horizontal slash of gold. He threw himself towards it, tearing his way through the branches. She lay in the centre of a glade, unmoving, one thrown arm lying limp, red hair tangled with the bracken. As he reached to check her pulse, he saw that she was breathing. ‘Your Majesty?’
Her eyes flickered open.
‘My Doctor?’
There was no time to lose, so he was already pulling her to her feet. He could check her for injuries once they were safely away from here. ‘That thing,’ she gasped, ‘it attacked me. What is it, what does it want?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. Probably just your planet.’
‘Doctor?’ she said, and he frowned in puzzlement, because this time her lips hadn’t moved and the voice seemed to be coming from behind him. He looked round.
Another flash of gold, and Elizabeth was stepping through the trees, her eyes fastened on the woman beside him. ‘Step away from her, Doctor. That is not me. That is the creature!’
He looked between the two of them. Elizabeth and Elizabeth. Both perfect in every detail.
The Elizabeth at his side was staring in astonishment at the new arrival. ‘How is that possible?’ she asked. ‘She’s me. Doctor, she’s me!’
‘I am, indeed, me,’ replied Elizabeth, staring into her own eyes. ‘A compliment that cannot be extended to yourself.’
‘Extraordinary,’ said Elizabeth. ‘The creature has caught my exact likeness—this is exceptional.’
They were both ignoring him now, circling each other, with the evil fascination of cats.
‘Exceptional? A Queen would call it impertinent,’ replied Elizabeth.
‘A Queen would feel compelled to admire the skill of the execution—before arranging one,’ replied Elizabeth.
‘You have captured my wit but not my speed.’
‘I was about to say the same.’
‘But just a little later.’
Two of them, thought the Doctor. What if they worked in shifts—he’d never get a day off. Then he remembered the equipment in his hand. ‘Sorry, ladies, if you could both just stay still for a tiny moment, this is a routine Queen check.’ He twisted the dials, but nothing happened. He banged it against a tree trunk. ‘It’s not working,’ he said. He looked up into four identical blue eyes now levelled at him like a firing squad. ‘Could I have a minute to change the bulb?’
‘One might surmise that the creature would learn quickly to protect itself from any simple means of detection,’ remarked Elizabeth.
‘Clearly you understand the creature better than I. But then, you have the advantage,’ retorted Elizabeth.
‘Indeed,’ smiled Elizabeth. ‘I have ridden its back.’
‘Oh, a distinct touch!’
‘A simple truth!’
‘It is no easy thing to match wits with a being of unearthly attainment.’
‘So you are to be congratulated!’ they both said, and laughed.
No, thought the Doctor, they can’t be bonding, that won’t work! One’s a megalomaniac from space and one’s from Greenwich.
When the wind hit his face, he knew he’d felt it before, but for the moment he couldn’t remember where. It was a warm wind, too warm for England, and smelled of old wood baking in the sun. He looked up. Hanging impossibly among the trees, was a slowly turning spiral of clouds and light, beautiful, eerie and silent. He knew in an instant he was looking into a slice of the time vortex—and what seemed even more impossible was that it felt familiar. As if he’d looked into that exact slice of vortex before. But how? When, where?
The Elizabeths were demanding to know what was going on, but now he was barely listening to them. Whatever was happening, it was more important than Queens and Zygons.
‘Back, both of you, now!’
‘What is that thing?’ asked Elizabeth, and he didn’t bother to check which one.
‘It’s a rupture in space and time, and I’ll tell you something else—I think I’ve seen it before.’
‘Where could you possibly have seen that?’
Where indeed? This was something from his past, he felt certain. But the trouble with the past, when you travelled in time as much as he did, was that a lot of it was still going on. Sometimes, as now, his memories felt more like a live feed. He found himself thinking of a barn. That barn. That day. The box at his feet, all those people about to die by his hand, all those children. But someone else was there too. Someone stood in the barn at his side. That wasn’t right! He’d gone there alone, too ashamed to be witnessed. So who was this woman now laughing in his memories? She was sitting on the box, then she was stamping round the floor, mocking him. For a brief moment, as she laughed, her face turned clear of her hair, and no, no, it couldn’t be. He hadn’t known her then, that was before they’d even met. But then she laughed again, and yes, it was her. Impossible though it seemed, there she stood, in his memory, smiling at him from the last day of the Time War—Rose Tyler.
Elizabeth was pushing past him now, approaching the vortex. ‘But how does it hang there?’ she asked. ‘It appears completely miraculous!’
The Doctor grabbed her away from it, pushed her round behind him. No time for ceremony.
‘Sorry, your Majesty. Just stay away from it. That’s a timeline fissure, it’s not supposed to be here.’
‘Your words are meaningless,’ said one of them.
‘You will explain, forthwith, what that thing is,’ demanded the other.
‘I can’t, it’s difficult. It’s something from a long time ago. It’s my past.’
Rose! How could Rose Tyler have been there?
‘What about your past?’ one of them was asking.
‘I think it’s playing up,’ he said.
And then something came tumbling through the vortex. It landed just in front of him, a soft thump on the earth. His stomach turned over. For a moment, he didn’t look down at what had arrived, because he didn’t need to. This had all happened before, and now, somehow, it was happening again. No—it was still happening. It had never stopped happening. The air roared in his ears, the world turned at his feet, and shadows rose around him. Suddenly he understood, and the impact of understanding stopped his breath. He’d come so far, he’d saved so many, he’d made his penance, over and over—but not one day of it had been real. He had been living a f
antasy—the hope-driven delusion of a repenting murderer. He had walked away from the slaughter of billions and dreamed an impossible redemption, and now he was waking to discover that none of it had happened. He was still in the barn. This was still the last day. The Time War had never ended.
It would take a moment to find the strength to look down, but of course he already knew what he’d see. Lying at his feet, there would be a battered old red hat of the type generally known as a—
There was a thunderous crack, followed by a tremendous crash and everywhere birds went clattering up from the trees. Something much larger had arrived from the vortex above, and had just hit the forest floor with a whirl of arms and legs and a loud ‘Oof!’
The Doctor stared in astonishment. Struggling to his feet in front of him was a strange flail of a man—a jangle of limbs in purple tweed, a startled face under a swaying quiff, and a pair of nervous hands fluttering either side of a bow tie as if disagreeing about how to straighten it.
‘Who is this?’ demanded an Elizabeth.
The man was staring at the Doctor, thunderstruck. Then he laughed and clapped and all but twirled on the spot. The smile on his face was pleased and silly but there was a look of presumption about his eyes that annoyed the Doctor intensely, so he sent what he hoped was a very similar look right back.
‘Doctor, who is this man, and what is he doing here?’ demanded the other Elizabeth.
‘Just what I was wondering,’ said the Doctor, stepping towards the man, as the man, in mirror image, stepped towards him.
FEED CONNECTING
FEED CONNECTED
FEED STABLE
IF YOU ENCOUNTER ANY TYPOS, CONTINUITY ERRORS OR PLOT HOLES, PLEASE CLOSE AND RE-OPEN THE BOOK.
We are about to return to the Doctor in the National Gallery, who (if you can remember that far back in the future) had been called out by the military intelligence organisation known as UNIT, on the sealed orders of Her Majesty Elizabeth I—a woman we now realise was more intimately acquainted with the Doctor than history generally records. But you know what history is like, it’s so easily embarrassed.
Now I can see a few of you looking uncomfortable, and one of you has just thrown the book across the room. Please give warning when you’re feeling inclined to do that, I nearly dropped the pen. I suspect you worry about the vulgar light in which this book is presenting a cherished historical icon, renowned as the most famous virgin who ever lived, but I would remind you that the popular assumption of complete chastity and purity is almost certainly ill founded—after all, he had a granddaughter.
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