Doctor Who

by Steven Moffat

  ‘Well, apparently I’m going to.’

  ‘Yeah, leave everything to me.’

  ‘Well that is roughly what’s going to happen.’

  ‘Gentlemen,’ interrupted the Doctor. ‘Enough of this chatter. We can’t beat the TARDIS-proofing, but there is another way.’ He tossed the silver sphere in his hand. ‘Cup-a-Soup!’ He frowned. ‘What is Cup-a-Soup?’

  ‘What are you on about?’ demanded Bow Tie.

  ‘Isn’t it time,’ said the Doctor, ‘that we our turned our enemy’s choice of weaponry against them? That is our M.O., is it not? We are the Doctor, after all.’

  His ears hummed, the blood stood still in his veins, and he nearly dropped the sphere. That was it! That was what had changed! But when did he start doing that? When had he started calling himself the Doctor again?

  ‘You got an idea?’ Daddy’s Suit was asking.

  ‘Share with the class, why don’t you?’ said Bow Tie.

  He could feel it inside himself. It had all come back, like it had never been away. He was ready to ride to the rescue, make some jokes, nick some stationery and trick the monsters into their own traps! He had looked the other way, and left a door open; and in that moment, look who’d snuck back in. He was the Doctor again. He should have been outraged, of course, but someone somewhere had started laughing, and to his astonishment, he realised it was him.

  ‘Have I missed another funny thing?’ asked Daddy’s Suit.

  ‘Seriously have you got a plan, Grandad?’

  ‘A plan? Yes, I’ve got a plan! Of course I’ve got a plan! I’ve always got a plan, I’m the Doctor. But I should warn you, boys,’ he said, and wondered if the smile on his face would ever stop growing, ‘it’s a little bit timey-wimey!’

  And he started to roar with laughter again. The other two stared at him, clearly thinking he’d gone mad, but he didn’t mind a bit. Because in that wonderful moment, spinning through time and space in the TARDIS, with the Doctor and the Doctor and Clara Oswald, there was exactly one thought going round and round in my head.

  Doctor once more!

  FEED CONNECTING

  FEED CONNECTED

  FEED STABLE

  PLEASE STORE THIS BOOK IN THE CLOSED POSITION TO STOP THE WEEPING ANGELS CLIMBING OUT.

  So what are we to make of that? Perhaps the hottest topic in Doctor scholarship (or, more likely, perhaps not) is this: did the Doctor marry Elizabeth I? What was the nature of the ceremony he so briefly alludes to? Was he his own best man? Did he also give away the bride? Obviously by now you’ve read the Doctor’s Best Man speech in Chapter Nine—yes, you did, I’m sorry, settle down—and while it is extremely funny, extraordinarily moving and even revealing in quite unexpected ways (Susan!), it’s possible, I suppose, that it’s a fake. So what concrete evidence do we have for history’s least likely union?

  There is considerable doubt about how much time the three Doctors and Clara Oswald spent in Elizabethan England, before setting off on their mission to the future. You might suppose they were in a hurry, but since their transport was a time machine, time itself was not an issue. So did the Doctors linger and, more importantly, did the Doctor dally?

  Many have pointed out that something must have happened, because the Doctor is clearly being evasive when it comes to the ‘ceremony’ and the exact circumstances of his departure. One cannot avoid a subject unless there is a subject to avoid. There is also the issue that Elizabeth addresses him as ‘husband’ in her letter of instruction.

  For many, it is beyond doubt that the Doctor is lying, but consider: this doesn’t necessarily mean that the marriage ever happened—only that the Doctor believed it did.

  Consider also Elizabeth: a woman of immense accomplishment and intelligence, used to manipulating the many egos competing for her attention. Is it possible that she could have faked a secret wedding ceremony, just to tether the Doctor to her service?

  We may never know for sure, of course, but I have my suspicions, and once I shared them with an old friend. Miss Clara Oswald often pops round for tea these days. I know her of old, though I like to pretend I can’t remember why, and she is happy to play along with that. I asked her once if the Doctor, a Time Lord of renowned intelligence and insight, could really have been so easily bamboozled, even by Elizabeth.

  ‘Yeah, I know what you mean, but trust me on this,’ Clara said, ‘she was a phenomenal kisser.’

  Our next chapter, Dearest Petronella, is in the form of letter. The circumstances of its composition will be clear in the reading.

  Chapter 6

  Dearest Petronella

  Dearest Petronella,

  Hello you. Or Hello me. It’s Petronella here. By the time you read this, I think, you’ll be about to abandon your human form—but I wonder if you would mind waiting just a little? Could you read this letter, while you’re still me? There’s something I want to explain.

  We have so many memories in common, don’t we? All my life in your head. How embarrassing! But let’s not dwell, you know all the stuff I’m talking about. Your face will be red enough when you’re back to Zygon. Oops, shape-shifter humour, right? But just between us girls.

  If you are a girl, really? Are you a girl? Are Zygons girls and boys like we are, or just all the same? I think all the same would be so much better. Think of the bathroom-space we could save. Honestly, what the human race could have achieved if we didn’t have to double up on plumbing!

  Anyway—drifting, drifting. You know me. Well, gosh, you really do know me, don’t you? No one’s ever known me like you do. Which is sort of the point of this letter.

  As I write, you’re still unconscious. It’s funny, looking at you, because one thing you never see in the flesh is what you look like asleep. There’s no drool, which is a relief, but you’re snoring a bit. I keep apologising on our behalf, which is a bit weird, but I had no idea I was so loud!

  You-know-who says the effect might take longer to wear off for you lot, because you’re shape-shifters, and a bit more complicated. Also, your memory of what happened might not fully restore, because … well, you’ve got twice as many memories as any of us. All mine on top of all yours.

  So in case you’ve forgotten what went on in the last few hours, and what we said to each other, here it all is. From my point of view. Which, for now, is your point of view too.

  RECAP. (I love those, don’t you? Well, I KNOW you do.)

  So we’d just found Atkins dead (very hard to forgive, sorry to mention) and Kate had gone striding into the room, because she always does that—you know, I think I want to be Kate the most—and McGillop had taken hold of my elbow, to be protective. Unfortunately, he couldn’t move his legs, because of all the terror, so I had to sort of pull him forwards, while he kept protecting my elbow.

  END OF RECAP.

  As we made our way through the door, I could hear Kate talking.

  ‘I am not armed. Neither are the two people now entering the Archive. It is against our code of conduct, and our inclination, to initiate any harm against an off-world visitor, and if you doubt my word on that, please consult the memories you have downloaded from my head.’

  We could see them now. Kate was standing in the middle of the room, opposite an exact duplicate of herself. That was freaky enough, but behind her was another McGillop, and next to him there was … well, you. Or me. Or you/me. You turned and saw me, and you gave me a weird kind of look, but I couldn’t tell what it meant. Then I realised something. No one ever learns to read their own face, do they?

  The real Kate looked over her shoulder. ‘Petronella, I want you to lock the door please. No one must come in.’

  She was calling me Petronella! That wasn’t a good sign! She’d left the key in the door, so that was easy enough, but my hands were shaking so badly it took me ages. McGillop tried to steady my hand, but he wasn’t any better, and we just rattled away together like a drinks trolley during turbulence. Behind us, I could hear the other Kate replying.

  ‘
Having downloaded your memories, I’m also aware of the resident population’s general attitude to visitors. You have enough difficulty with your own species, let alone ours.’

  ‘If I may point out: you are invading.’

  ‘My Zygon duplicates are already taking command of UNIT. The invasion is nearly over.’

  ‘With the weaponry in this room, you would be unstoppable.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘So I regret to inform you that you are about to be stopped. You don’t mind if I sit down?’ There was a meeting table, right in the middle of the room, and Kate just pulled out a chair and sat down. She smiled at her double, and waved her into the seat opposite.

  Copy Kate didn’t move for a moment. ‘You are not armed. We are Zygons—we were born armed. This room is ours, therefore so is your planet.’

  Kate just shrugged. ‘Technically, the planet is yours, yes. I hope you enjoy your reign, as you’re going to be dead in a little over five minutes. Please, do have a seat.’

  Copy Kate was frowning now, and I knew that look; somehow control was slipping from her hands. After a moment, she pulled out a chair and sat opposite Kate. Then the other McGillop moved into position at her shoulder, and then you came and stood at her other shoulder. It was like a movie poster about a family business or the mafia (or cross TV presenters).

  McGillop and I looked at each other. Oh well, we thought, and we went and stood in exactly the same positions behind the real Kate. It was all very scary, but it was kind of ridiculous too. Movie posters facing each other.

  I glanced at you, wondering how you were feeling, and you were already looking at me, and it was so funny, because at the exact same moment we both made the big wheezy noise. We reached for our inhalers, but of course only I had one. I hope I didn’t look too smug, but I think I probably did.

  Kate was speaking again. ‘If you search the memories you’ve taken from me, you will realise there are protocols protecting this place. The weaponry in this room cannot be allowed into your hands, or we will lose control of our own planet. Osgood?’

  This was my bit, though I wasn’t looking forward to it. ‘In the event of alien incursion, the contents of this room are deemed so dangerous it will self-destruct in—’ My mouth just gummed up! I couldn’t say it!

  Kate had her phone out, and she clicked something. On the wall, big red numbers lit up. I looked at them, but I was so scared, I couldn’t make sense of them. They just sort of jumbled about in front of me, like my eyes were jumping up and down.

  ‘Five minutes,’ Kate said.

  Copy Kate had her phone out too, and was looking at it. We were all about to die, and suddenly all I could think was, how could she have a phone? Did Zygons copy phones too? Was that a phone made of Zygon? Active hologram shell, I thought. Good theory, I thought, impatient with myself, but never mind that now.

  ‘This is some of the most sophisticated powerful equipment in in the seven galaxies,’ Copy Kate was saying. ‘Your explosives would barely scratch it—oh!’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Kate. ‘I see you’ve just remembered that there’s a nuclear warhead twenty feet beneath us. Are you sitting comfortably?’

  ‘You would destroy all of London?’

  ‘To save the world? Yes, I would.’

  ‘You’re bluffing.’

  ‘Do you think so? Somewhere in your memory is a man called Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.’ I couldn’t see her face from where I was standing, but I knew she was doing that smile. ‘I’m his daughter.’

  Copy Kate narrowed her eyes, like it was the annual performance evaluation, and leaned back in her chair a bit. She was drumming her fingers on the table now. Then she smiled. ‘So am I,’ she said.

  This is mad, I thought. This is ridiculous, and pointless.

  ‘Then I fear we have an impasse,’ said Kate.

  ‘Not for long,’ said Copy Kate.

  This will destroy everyone, I thought. They will murder millions. Us too!

  What? What did I mean, us too? Why was I thinking that? Except, hang on, I wasn’t thinking that! Those thoughts were just popping into my head. But where from?

  Of course, that’s when I looked across the table and saw you. And you were staring at me through your funny big spectacles. How can you have spectacles, I wondered. Were the spectacles made of Zygon?

  I told you—active hologram shell.

  Oh, that was you?

  Of course it was me.

  We’re still linked then? Psychically?

  I reopened the connection, yes.

  You can do that?

  Not normally. This is different.

  Why?

  Because I was able to figure it out. Your brain is amazing, Petronella. I’ve never been anywhere so huge.

  Seriously? You like it?

  I love it. How do you cope, though? All these thoughts! It’s like chasing a herd of ponies.

  I love ponies.

  I’m aware. Shall we return to the end of the world?

  Oh, okay, yes, sorry.

  Copy Kate was speaking. ‘The order can be cancelled, of course. One word from you would stop the detonation.’

  I glanced to the counter on wall, and so did you. Oh God! We had three minutes.

  ‘Quite so.’

  ‘Keyed to your voice print.’

  ‘And mine alone.’

  ‘Not any more,’ said Copy Kate. ‘Cancel the detonation,’ she shouted.

  ‘Countermanded!’

  ‘Cancel the detonation!’

  ‘Countermanded!’

  Copy Kate stared at herself. She was shaking her head. ‘We only have to agree to live.’

  ‘Agreed. All you have to do is surrender all your troops to mine.’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘Then we can only agree to die.’

  They were both on their feet now, staring at each other. Kate was the most stubborn person in the world; she never backed down from anything. That stubbornness had saved so many people, so many times, but now she was face to face with herself. Unstoppable force meets immovable object, I thought; then realised that was from you.

  You were looking at me again. Do you think he’s got a plan, you asked.

  Who?

  Who do you think?

  The Doctor can’t even get in here.

  You shook your head. Tell the Doctor there’s a wall he can’t climb—

  —and he’ll meet you on the other side, yes, I know. But how could he do it?

  Look over my shoulder, you said.

  When I looked all I could see was a painting propped against the wall. No, hang on, not just any painting. It was the Gallifrey Falls painting from the National Gallery. The one we’d shown to the Doctor just a short time ago.

  But what’s that doing here, I asked. It can’t be moved, except on the specific orders of Kate Lethbridge-Stewart.

  Or the Doctor, you reminded me.

  But when could the Doctor have done that? I asked.

  You glanced at the Copy McGillop, and I noticed he was staring at me too. We’ve copied your colleague, McGillop, you explained, so we’ve got all his memories as well. We’re going to send you a memory graft of something that happened a few hours ago.

  Copy McGillop was staring and staring at me now, and I was about to ask what a memory graft was when—

  I was back in the National Gallery, when we’d shown the painting to the Doctor and Clara for the first time. It was all exactly the same, except I was standing in a slightly different place, and my mouth tasted a bit funny. I was feeling a tiny bit hungover (hang on, I don’t drink) but I was still looking forward to seeing Angus and Ferdinand that evening—except I didn’t know who Angus and Ferdinand were. And then I realised! I was McGillop. I was standing inside his memory. This was a memory graft, and I was him. And oh my! Everything was so different! Even colours and smells and the feel of my feet on the floor—nothing anywhere was the same. When I looked at the Doctor, he wasn’t called the Doctor any more,
he was called Git-In-Bow-Tie. When I looked at Clara Oswald she was suddenly Bossy-Munchkin. When Kate started talking she was Cheer-Up-Dear. Then I was having a big sad thought, and thinking (in an Irish accent), ‘Oh she can’t take her eyes off him, can she?’ I didn’t understand that at first—who couldn’t take their eyes off who?—and then I found I was looking at myself, and, yes, I was staring at the Doctor. And goodness me, all of a sudden I was called Princess.

  Princess? Why was McGillop calling me Princess? I had a quick look round his memory—gross!!—and there was simply tons of me in there, and I was always called Princess! Didn’t he know I was against all constitutional monarchy (except Prince Harry)? Mind you, I had to admit, he wasn’t saying it in a mean way. He was saying it in a nice way. Actually, a very nice way. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. I’d have blushed if I’d had my own face. Did this mean he liked me? At the exact moment I asked myself that question, I realised I was looking at my bottom.

  No, no, no, I thought! Oh, McGillop, cut that out. It was going on and on, and frankly it was embarrassing.

  Git-In-Bow-Tie had just finished the Queen’s letter. ‘What’s happened?’ There was quick glance over to the Doctor as he spoke, then whoosh, back to my bottom.

  ‘Easier to show you.’ A quick glance at Cheer-Up-Dear, then whoosh, bottom! Oh, control yourself, McGillop! Was this what had been going on all these years? Was he objectifying me every time I turned my back (which seemed to be a requirement, in fact)?

  Thankfully, my phone rang—no, I mean McGillop’s phone rang. A familiar voice said, ‘Take a look at the number on your phone, and confirm who you’re talking to.’

  The phone screen said that the Doctor himself was on the line. But how was that possible? I—no, McGillop—glanced at Git-In-Bow-Tie who was walking right past him, following Cheer-Up-Dear out of the room. Now Princess followed right behind him. Whoosh, bottom! Oh, McGillop! What did he think I kept back there?

  ‘But that’s not possible, sir,’ McGillop was saying. ‘He’s right here.’

  ‘Yeah, I know I am, I remember,’ replied the Doctor on the phone. ‘I’m a time traveller, figure it out. I am currently in flight, in the TARDIS, and I need you to get the Gallifrey Falls painting sent straight to the Black Archive. Priority Buffalo One. And tell absolutely no one this has happened.’