Contents

CoverAbouttheBookAbouttheAuthorTitlePageTheChangingFaceofDoctorWhoPrologue

1.JoytotheWorld2.WhatChildisThis?3.DoYouHearWhatIHear?4.LonelyThisChristmas5.HereComesSantaClaus6.O,ChristmasTree7.ItCameUpontheMidnightClear8.ISawThreeShips9.Hark!TheHeraldAngelsSing10.IntheBleakMidwinter11.WalkingintheAir12.AngelsWeHaveHeardonHigh13.SilentNight14.StoptheCavalry15.ASpacemanCameTravelling16.IWonderasIWander17.DingDong!MerrilyonHigh18.HappyXmas(WarisOver)19.FollowtheStar20.AllIWantforChristmasisYou

EpilogueAuthor’sAfterwordAcknowledgementsCopyright

AbouttheBook

Earthisunderattackbypower-hungryaliens.ThisisnotimefortheDoctortobeoutofaction.

WhenaBritishspaceprobeisinterceptedbyasinisteralienvesselontheeveofChristmas,itmarksthebeginningofanaudaciousinvasionoftheEarthbytheSycorax–horrifyingmaraudersfrombeyondthestars.Withinhours,athirdofhumanitystandsonthebrinkofdeathwithnotasingleshotfired.

Our planet needs a champion – but theDoctor is not fit for service.He’s justregenerated, delirious in a new body and a dressing gown. Forced into hisbatteredshoesishisfriend,RoseTyler,agirlfromaLondoncouncilestate.WillshesavetheworldfromthisnightmarebeforeChristmas–orseeitdestroyed?

AbouttheAuthor

JennyTColganhaswritten16bestsellingnovelsasJennyColgan,whichhavesoldover2.5millioncopiesworldwide,beentranslated into25 languages,andwon both theMelissa Nathan Award and Romantic Novel of the Year 2013.Aged 11, she won a national fan competition to meet the Doctor and wasmistakenforaboybyPeterDavison.

THECHANGINGFACEOFDOCTORWHO

ThecoverillustrationofthisbookportraysthetenthDOCTORWHO,whosephysicalappearancewaslater

transformedafteranoverdoseofradiation–althoughhedidn’twanttogo.

Prologue

There is amoment: a terriblemoment,when youwake up, and you suddenlyrealise,toyourpanic,thatyou’vemissedsomething.Perhapsyou’vemissedthetraintoyourfirstdayatanewjob,ortheschool

bus,andthere’sanimportantexam.Perhapsyouwakeupandforamomentthinkthatsomeoneyouknewiswith

you;someoneyoulovedstilllovesyouback,andthenyourstomachdropslikeanexpresselevator,asyourememberonceagainthattheyaregone;orthattheyaredead.Maybe you dreamt that you lost something—that it has tumbled into the

water,outofreach,furtherandfurtherandyoucannotgrabholdofit,nomatterhowyoutry,youcanonlywatchitgo—butthenyouwakeupanditwasadreamallalongandyoufeelutter,earthshatteringrelief.But sometimes the dream is golden and full of every piece of knowledge

abouttheuniverseandultimatepowerandgloriousresurrection—andthenyouwakeupandrealisethatallofthathascrumbledintodust.And the reality is, somebody—something—in the shapeof amanhas eaten

your best friend, and it’s standing right in front of you and it’s talking aboutBarcelona,ofallthings,anditabsolutelywillnotshutupandyouhavenoideawhattodo.Rose Tyler crouched by the pillars of the TARDIS console room, the

afterglow of the extraordinary golden light still visible on the inside of hereyelids; burned on her retinas—and feltmore frightened and alone than she’deverfeltinherlife.

1

JoytotheWorld

If you have ever been to an industrial park—which is a terrible misnomer,becausetheyareliterallytheoppositeofparks;theyarefactoryfarmsforpeople—youwillhaveseenabuildinglikethis.Lowrise.Cheapbrownbricks.Rowsof identical windowswith PVC frames because nobody cared enough, at anystageofitsconstruction,totrytomakeitattractive,orinteresting,orstandoutinanyway.Usuallythesebuildings—whichdonothavenames,butnumbers(thiswas42)

—endupthiswaybecauseoflaziness,orcost-cuttingonthepartofthekindofpeoplewhomakebusiness parks for a living; or peoplewho are sodevoidofimaginationtheythinkyourenvironmentdoesnotmattertoyou.InthecaseofUnit42,FanshieldIndustrialPark,though,thiswasnotsimplya

productofend-stagecapitalism.Thiswastheentirepoint.Ifyouhaddrivenpastit,youpossiblywouldn’tevenhavenoticedit;abuildingsoblanditslippedofftheeye. Ifyouhad,youmighthave thought, ‘Whoa. Imaginehaving to spendyourentire life in there.’ In thehighlyunlikelyevent thatyou’d lookedcloser,you might have wondered why there was all that barbed wire; or why thesecurity guards and janitors reception staff all looked like square-headed ex-marines—whichtheywere.Inside Industrial Unit 42, though, the atmosphere was actually incredibly

exciting.BecausethislowbuildingofftheringroadofReadingwasinfactthecentre

of Britain’s rocket-building programme, which recently—since Harriet Joneshad been elected Prime Minister—had received a boost to its funding andundertaken a mission that had drawn envious stares from scientists andastronomersaroundtheworld.Unit42wasbuildingGuinevere.GuineverewasgoingtobethefirstdroneevertolandonMars.Thefirst-ever

footagefromtheredplanet—fromtheactualsoliddustyearthoftheredplanet—wassoontoarrive;anditwasgoingtobeBritishengineeringandateamof

mostlyBritishandEuropeanscientiststhathadmadeithappen.Behindthelongrowsofblacked-outwindows,themoodwasactuallynear-hysterical.Meanwhile, thechampagnedeliverycompanyhadgot lost. Ithadneverhad

causetodelivertotheFanshieldIndustrialParkbefore.

Inside the low brown building,MatthewNicolson, senior programmer onUKRocket Project 9.2, codename:Guinevere, pushed back from his low console,rocked in his chair a little to shift his position, wiped down his glasses andsmiledtohimself.Next to him was Duerte Rodriguez, who was wearing shorts and sandals

despite thefact that itwasChristmasEve. (WearingshortswasDuerte’s thing.Matthewhadpointedouttohimthatifhewantedtobecomemoreattractivetowomen he should develop his personality rather than just his trousers.Duertehadimmediatelypointedouta)thatMatthewalreadyhada‘thing’,namelyhiswheelchair,sohecouldshutupandalsob)atleasthe,Duerte,couldputonhisownshorts.MatthewhadtoleratedthisashehadagirlfriendandDuertedidnot,and besides their friendship was practically predicated on Duerte makingridiculously offensive remarks about his chair, which was a relief whenmostpeopletriedtotiptoeroundit,literallyandfiguratively.Theyweregoodfriends.)‘Whyareyousmiling?’saidDuertesuspiciously.Matthewpushedhimselfevenfurtherbackfromtheconsoleandmadea‘ta-

dah!’sign.Duerteclockeditimmediately.‘Noway.’‘Iwouldsaydothemath,’saidMatthew.‘ButI’veseenyoudomath.’‘Maths,’ said Duerte, shaking his head. But he scooted over his chair and

peered more closely at the lines of code filling Matthew’s screen. Then hewhistled through his teeth. It looked like… it couldn’t be. But it looked likeGuinevere One was in position. It looked like they had the coordinates, theweather,thethrusterfuelandthelandingspotalllinedup.ItlookedasifGuinevereOnewasreadytoland.‘Isshegoingdown?’‘Lockedandloaded,’saidMatthewsmugly.‘AndallintimeforChristmas.’Luannethepressofficercamechargingpastasusual.ToMatthewandDuerte

she seemed to be breezing constantly between appointments, despite the factthat,asthepressofficerforatop-secretgovernmentrocketfacility,herjobcouldsurelyonlyconsistofhersaying,‘Hello?No,we’renotatop-secretgovernmentrocket facility’ every time the phone rang. But she was mostly a good sort,Luanne.Well,whenshewasn’tbuggingthemaboutcleaningupthecommunal

kitchenandbeggingDuertetoatleastwearshoessoshedidn’thavetolookathisdisgustinghornytoesallthetime.Sheswervedtoahalt.NotmuchgotpastLuanne(which,asshewouldhave

toldyou,washeractualjob).‘What was that blokey slang about? Does “locked and loaded” mean

somethinggoodorsomethingbad?’‘Radandawesome,’saidMatthew.Looking at him now, Luanne knew exactly what he meant. They’d been

waitingforthis.Thiswouldbethetimeforherskillstotrulycometothefore;toannouncetotheworldwhatthey’dachieved.Excitementbubbledup.‘You’reearly,’shesaid,delightedly.‘Iknow,’saidMatthew.‘He’sgoingtobeinsufferable,’chimedinDuerte,‘forhours.Enoughwiththe

smugness,Nicolson,beforeIjamyourspokes.’‘TryitandIwillramyourshins,myfriend.’AhugesmilestretchedoverLuanne’sfeatures.‘CanImakethecall?Letme.

Comeon,it’llbefun,tryingtogetasmileoutofLlewellyn.Idon’tthinkhe’ssleptsinceHallowe’en.’Llewellynwas their young, graveboss; slender, bearded andwith a clipped

mannerthatseemedatoddswithhisgentleValleysaccent.Theylikedhimandtheyrespectedhim;hewasn’tthesortyoumessedabout.‘Shallwelether?’Matthewmusedaloud.Duerteshrugged.‘Girl’sstealingallthecreditasusual.’Luanne stuck her tongue out at him, leaned over Matthew’s shoulder and

tapped a few buttons, calling up the live feed. Sure enough, there was thebeautiful space probe, Guinevere One, hovering above Mars, her externalcameras reflecting the light behind her. AndMatthew was showing her, withtotalconfidence,thatthelandingcoordinatesweresetandreadytogo.Theyalllookedatitforamoment,smiling.‘Sheissobeautiful,’saidLuanne.‘Stillsadyoudidn’tleavetoworkforJohnLumic,Nicolson?’teasedDuerte.Matthew rolled his eyes. ‘Two Ironsides together? No thanks. Though the

moneyhereisstillshocking,bytheway.’Luannepulledoutherphone.Moreandmoreofthestaffwerecomingoverto

congratulatethem,realisingwhatmusthavehappened.Itsoundedlikesomeonewas popping a bottle of something fizzy in the adjoining communal area.Llewellyncamewalkingswiftlydownthelongdarkcorridor,thethrongofotherstaffopeningawayclearforhim.‘We’vedoneit!’saidLuannejoyously.

‘Uhm?’saidMatthew.Luanne rolled her eyes. ‘The team has done it,’ she said, more slowly.

Honestly,theythoughtshecontributednothing(theydidthinkthis).Llewellynchecked thedataverycarefullyandmethodically, thewayhedid

everything, as the others grew antsy with anticipation behind him. Finally hestraightenedupandgaveasclosetoasmileashecouldmanage.‘Okaytogo,’hesaid,quietly.Luanne burst forward. ‘I’ll put it on speaker. You can all listen inwhilst I

talk…tothePrimeMinister’soffice.’Thereweresomewhoops.‘Duerte,checkthe weather reports. Let’s see if they fancy a bunch of Mars pictures… forChristmasDay!’Someonecheered.‘Shh!Shh!’saidLuanne.Shedialledthenumber,thenputitonspeaker.Itwas

answeredpromptly.‘Goodmorning,DowningStreet,’cametheofficiousvoice.‘HowcanIhelp

you?’‘HarrietJones’sofficeplease…It’sGuinevere.’Onlyonewordwaseverneededfromtheindustrialunitat42FanshieldPark.‘Puttingyoustraightthrough.’

2

WhatChildisThis?

‘Idon’twanttogotoBarcelona,’Rosesaidagain,hervoicesoundingsmallandfrightenedinthehugeconsoleroom.‘PleasestoptalkingaboutBarcelona.I…Ijustwanttogohome.’TheTARDISlurchedoncemore;thewild-eyedfigurestaringat thecontrols

asifithadneverseenthembefore.Sheglancedup.‘That’sEarth.IliveonEarth.InLondon.’The figureswayeduntil she thought itwasgoing to fall.Then itcaughther

eye.‘Iknowwhereyoulive,Rose.’Andshebackedevenfurtheragainstthereassuringrootoftheconsoleroom

strut,clingingontoitforcomfort.Thisiswhathappens,shetoldherself,whenyou take wonders for granted. She hadn’t even noticed when something hadcomeandtakenovertheDoctor.HerDoctor.They had flown so high, burned so brightly—and now they were crashing

backtoEarth,fasterandfaster;herandthis…Thiswhat?Shecouldnoteven lookatwhat theDoctorhadbecome.This…alien,who

had treated her like someone he knew utterly and unquenchably. His partner.Hand in hand, until she had learned to trust that hand, until she had felt itnaturallybyhersideasifitwereapartofher.Asiftheywere,almost,thesameperson.Except,ofcourse,hewasn’tapersonandshedidn’tknowhimatall.Hehad

toldher,butshehadn’tunderstoodandshehadn’twantedtounderstand.She’dwantedtobelievetheywerethesame;hadwantedsomuchforthathandinherstobeforever.Andnowhewasdead,eatenbythisthingthatstilldaredtowearhisclothes.

Rose hid behind the carved, tree-like pillar in the console room, which wasstupid,asshecouldstillbeseenquiteclearly.Sheglancedaround.Therewasn’t

muchintheTARDISyoucoulduseasaweapon.Shestoleaglanceround.Whatwasitdoing?Itwasmovingitsmouthupanddown.Herheartpoundedfaster.Whathaditdonetohim?Ashapeshifter?She’dmetallsorts…Itwaswitteringon.Shestaredatit,horrifiedandcurious.‘Pm…Tuesday…October500…onthewaytoBarcelona…’The thing in the Doctor’s clothes wasn’t making any sense. Was it

regurgitatinghisbrainwaves?Shewantedtoscream,tearintothething,forwhatithaddone,butshedidn’tdareapproachit.Itstraightenedupandgrinnedatherinthemostdisarmingway.‘Nowthen,’itsaid.‘WhatdoIlooklike?’Rose wondered if she could bring it down by the legs. Why wasn’t the

TARDIS doing something, like opening an airlock or something? Sheconcentrated on thinking this as hard as she could so that the TARDISmightpickupontheidea,butnothinghappened.Thethingheldupitshandasifithadbeenexpectinghertorespond.‘No,no,no,nononononononono.No.Don’ttellme…’Itstartedshakingitshandsandbodyupanddown.‘Let’s see… two legs, two arms, twohands…slightweakness in thedorsal

tubercle…’Itshandsflewtoitshead.‘Hair!Oh,I’mnotbald!’Roseblinked.Whatonearthwasitdoing?Sheshiftedforwardaninch.Itcarriedonrunningitshandsthroughitshair,alookoftotalsurpriseonits

face.‘Oh!Bighair!…Sideburns!’Nowthecreaturesoundeddelighted.‘I’vegotsideburns!Orreallybadskin.Littlebitthinner.’Itslappeditselfonthestomach.‘That’sweird.Givemetime,I’llgetusedtoit.’Thefacelitupsuddenly,overjoyed.‘Ihavegotamole!Icanfeelit!’Itstartedwrigglingabout,gyratingitsshoulders.‘Between my shoulder blades! There’s a mole! That’s all right. Love the

mole.’Itgrinnedather.Roseblinked.Thiswas…Well.Itcouldn’tbeaperson.But

somehowafterthisweirdreview,itseemedlessthreatening.Itmovedcloser,itshairnowamess,andsheshrankbackinstinctively.‘Goonthen.Tellme.Whatdoyouthink?’

Well,thatwasaquestion.Shedidn’tknowwhatshethought.Roseswallowedbefore she spoke and when her voice came out, it wasn’t at all the strongcommanding tones she had hoped for. Instead, she sounded timid, fearful,longingforsomethingshecouldn’tputherfingeron,somethingsoimpossible…‘I’mgoingtochange.’Hehadsaidthat.Hehadsaidthat,justbefore…butno.Itcouldn’t.Itcouldn’t

be.‘TimeLordshavethislittletrick.’Shelookedatthefigureinfrontofheragain,whichwasstillrumplingupits

ownface.Itcouldn’tbe.Roseclosedhereyes.Whatwashappening?Thensheopened

themagain,andtookadeepbreath.‘Whoareyou?’Theshapelookedsurprised,andnotalittlewounded.‘I’mtheDoctor!’Rose moved closer. ‘No. Where is the Doctor? What have you done with

him?’Shewishedagainshehadaweapon,evenifhe—therealDoctor—wouldhave

beentotallyagainstthat.Thispersonlookedconfused.‘But…yousawme.Ichanged…right infrontofyou.’Heglancedoverhis

shoulder to the spot by the console where she’d seen the light—that boilingexplodinggoldenlightshootingoutfromtheDoctor.Roseshookherhead.‘IsawtheDoctorsortofexplode,andthenyoureplaced

him like… a… a teleport or a transmat or a body swap or something.’ Shesteppedcloser towardshim,herangerrising,andpushedhimfull in thechest.‘You’renotfoolingme.’Thecreaturewobbledbackon itsheels as if it couldn’tbelievewhat itwas

hearing.‘I’veseenall sortsof things.Nanogenes…Gelth…Slitheen…OhmyGod,

areyouaSlitheen?’Thefigureraiseditseyebrows.‘I’mnotaSlitheen.’Rose shouted, all her fear and frustration comingout. ‘SENDHIMBACK!

I’MWARNINGYOU!SENDTHEDOCTORBACKRIGHTNOW!’‘Rose,it’sme.Honestly.It’sme.’Rosecouldn’tcatchherbreath.Herbraincouldn’ttakeinwhathewassaying.‘Iwasdying,’itsaid.‘TosavemyownlifeIchangedmybody.Everysingle

cell,but…it’sstillme.’‘TimeLordshavethislittletrick.It’sasortofawayofcheatingdeath.Except

itmeansI’mgoingtochange.’

She’dhearditforherself,stillcouldn’tbelieveherowneyes.‘Youcan’tbe.’TimeLordshavethislittletrick.Itranthroughherhead,overandover.This

little trick.Like itwasonlyabitofconjuring,abitof fun. Just aprank tobeplayedonprimitiveapeslikeher.Nowthefiguremovedtowardsher,closer,andlookedherstraightintheeye,

hisvoicelow.‘IfI’mnothim,howcouldIrememberthis?VeryfirstwordIeversaidtoyou.Trappedinthatcellar,surroundedbyshopwindowdummies—oh!’He seemed, suddenly, overwhelmed at the recollection, and Rose suddenly

foundherselfbacktheretoowithhim,fortheveryfirsttime.Beforeeverythinginherworld—intheentireuniverse—hadchanged.Theveryfirstmoment.‘Suchalongtimeago,’hesaid.‘Itookyourhand.’Roseflinched.Suddenlyahand—adifferenthand?—wasinhers,asnaturally

as if it had alwaysbeen there.She looked at it.He carriedon talking, gentlernow,asiftryingtocalmafrightenedanimal.‘Isaidoneword…justoneword,Isaid:“Run”.’But it didn’t sound the samewhen he said it and his hand did not feel the

same. Then he said it again, very, very quietly, and squeezed her hand… andsuddenly,thereitwas,likeatollingbell.Shefeltit.Somehow,deepdown,sheknew.Shecouldn’tproveitbut—shehadfaith.Shetrustedhim.Sheknew.‘I’mnotgoingtoseeyouagain.Notlikethis.Notwiththisdaftoldface.’Tearsstartedtorolldownhercheeks.‘Doctor,’shesaid,andhervoicewasawhisper.TheDoctor’svoicewasstillgentle.‘Hello,’hesaid.Thenhedroppedherhand,andRosenearlytrippedoverbackwards,amillion

questionsburningthroughherbrain.Washethesameman?How?Didheknoweverything?Didhefeel thesameway?Wouldheact thesameway?Couldhedancenow?TheDoctor—thisDoctor—hadbouncedbackroundtheconsole.‘Andwenever stopped, didwe?All across theuniverse.Running, running,

running…’He started messing about with the console, flicking switches without even

glancing at them now; and the TARDIS was letting him, completelyunconcerned.‘Onetimewehadtohop.Doyouremember?Hoppingforourlives?’He started hopping. Rose did not remember and stared at him. He slowed

down.

‘Yeah?Allthathopping?Rememberhoppingforyourlife?Yeah?Hop?Withthe…no?’Roseblinked.‘Canyouchangeback?’‘Doyouwantmeto?’‘Yeah.’‘Oh.’‘Canyou?’‘No.’TheDoctorstaredathisshoes.‘Doyouwanttoleave?’‘Doyouwantmetoleave?’Roseshotbackstraightaway.‘No!But…it’syourchoice.Ifyouwanttogohome…’Roselookedathim,hereyessad.‘Cancel Barcelona,’ he said suddenly. ‘Change to… London. The Powell

Estate.Ah,let’ssay…the24thofDecember.ConsideritaChristmaspresent.’Rosemoved towards him again, then hesitated, desperately confused as the

Doctorhitthebuttons.‘There.’ The Doctor stood back and folded his arms, looking hurt as the

TARDISlurchedtoasuddenhalt.‘I’mgoinghome?’saidRose,feelingwounded.‘Uptoyou.Backtoyourmum.It’sallwaiting.Fishandchips,sausageand

mash,beansontoast…No.No,it’sChristmas.Turkey!Although…havingmetyourmother…nutloafwouldbemoreappropriate.’Roseletoutashortburstofsurprisedlaughter.‘Wasthatasmile?’‘No.’‘Thatwasasmile.’‘Noitwasn’t.’‘Yousmiled.’‘NoIdidn’t!’‘Ohcomeon,allIdidwaschange,Ididn’t—’Out of the blue, his entire body took a sudden lurch, andhis face changed.

Rose’sfirstthoughtwasthathewasabouttobesick.Shemovedforward.‘What?’‘Isaid,Ididn’t—’This time he collapsed over the console. Rosewas reallyworried now and

inchedherwaytowardshim.‘Uh-oh.’

The last thingRosewanted to hearwas ‘uh-oh’.Uh-ohwhat? ‘Uh-oh, I’vefinishedeatingtheDoctorsoit’stimetostartonyou?’‘Uh-oh,I’mabouttodieforrealthistimeandtheTARDISdoorsaregoingtolockforever?’‘Areyouallright?’ShewatchedinaweasfromoutoftheDoctor’smouthcamealonglineofthe

goldenmiasma;Roseknew,couldfeel,itwasthesametimevortexenergythatshe’dhadinsideher,justforafewmoments—andithadnearlydestroyedher.IftheDoctor,herDoctor,hadn’tdrawnitoutofher…He—herDoctor.HehadsentherawayfromSatelliteFive,ashepreparedto

sacrificehimselftosavetheuniverse.Theentireuniverse.Andshehadn’tbeenhavinganyofit.ShehadopenedtheheartoftheTARDIS.Theoddestthing;shehadabsolutelynomemoryas towhathadhappenedafter that;only thatwhenshehadcomebacktoherselftheDalekshadgone.Jackwasalive,thankGod—and her head was splitting, a pain so immense and overwhelming she felt itwoulddestroyher.ThentheDoctorhadtakenherpainaway:allofit.How, she thought, jolted back to a place she could barely remember—how

couldyoubefullofthat;havethatinsideyou;thevoidoftheendless;theheartof everything that could ever be. How could you live like that and not turncompletelymad…?OhmyGod,thoughtRose.Thatwasit.He’dturnedcompletelymad.‘It’s all right.’Theman’s voice sounded pained. ‘The change is going a bit

wrong,isall.’Nowthepainwaswrittenalloverhisface,andheslumpeddownontohisknees.Rosemade a decision. Shewould have to trust him because otherwise she

couldn’thelphim,andifshecouldn’thelphim,therewasnohelpforanything.‘Look… maybe we should go back. Let’s go and find Captain Jack, he’d

knowwhattodo.’TheDoctor shookhis head, graspingup to holdon to the console from the

floor.‘Gah,he’sbusy!He’sgotplentytodorebuildingtheEarth.’Heglancedupsuddenly as his hand felt something, and his eye lit upon a large red lever. ‘Ihaven’tusedthisoneinyears.’Heflickedit,andtheTARDISsuddenlyjerkedtothesideviolently,andthey

bothnearlytumbledtothefloor.‘What’reyoudoing?’saidRose,panicgrippingher.‘Puttingonabitofspeed!That’sit!’Rosegrabbedtheconsoledesperately.‘My beautiful ship! Come on, faster! Thassa girl!’ His face was absolutely

manicandterrorgrippedRose.‘Faster!Wanttobreakthetimelimit?’

‘STOPIT!’Rosecouldn’ttakeanymore.‘Ah, don’t be so dull… let’s have a bit of fun! Let’s rip through the time

vortex!’Rose didn’t like this—this new version of the Doctor, this new thing. She

glaredathim.Thenhecaughthereyeandgazedbackatherandshefeltitagain;thatodd,oddglimmerofrecognitionshehadfeltwhenhe’dtakenherhand.Hisvoicedropped.‘Theregeneration’sgoingwrong.Ican’tstopmyself.’Hisfacewasamaskof

painashejerkedandtwitched.‘Ah,myhead.’Thenhejumpedbackupagain,thecrazylookbackonhisface.‘Faster!Let’sopenthoseengines!’Alarmbellswereringing,andnot,Rosethought,justintheTARDIS.‘What’sthat?’‘We’regonnacrash-land!’yelledtheDoctor,hisgrintoowideforhisface.Roseshoutedathim.‘Well,thendosomething!’Hewashystericalnow.‘Toolate!Outofcontrol!Oh,Iloveit!HotDog!’‘YOU’REGOINGTOKILLUS!’‘Holdontight…Herewego…’Rosewas so frightened, so scared.Whoever thismadmanwas, hewas still

grinningmaniacally.‘CHRISTMASEVE!’

3

DoYouHearWhatIHear?

Jackie Tylerwas listening toChristmas songs and decorating the old tree andtellingherselfthatthingscouldbeworse.Shetoldherselfthatalot,thesedays.Things coulddefinitelybeworse.DebbiePringle’sdaughterhadgotherself

knockedupwithtripletsandallfourofthemwerecurrentlycampingoutinherfrontroom.‘Must be nice, having babies about the place again,’ she’d said to Debbie

when they’d run intoeachother in theCostco,andDebbie,whose trolleywaspiledhighwithsixboxesofnappies,eighttinsofpowderedmilkandabottleofunbranded vodka, had grabbed her wide-eyed and said, ‘Take one! Take anyone!Idon’tcarewhich,theyalllookthesame!’thenshriekedwhenherphonerang anddashedoff, trailingbabypowder and a faintwhiff of something elselesspleasantinherwake.AndshecouldinviteHowardround.Yeah.That’dbenice.Getsomefruitin.

Did theyneedawhole turkey?Probablynot.Maybeget oneof those crowns.Wouldn’ttakeupthewholeoven,sothatwasnice.Ofcourse,shehadapresentforRose.Ofcourseshedid.She’dkeepitwith

thebirthdaypresentshe’dpoppedbackinthecupboard.Justincaseshestoppedby.And that top that she’d seen down themarket; bright yellow,Rosewouldhateit.Butitwouldlightupherface.Shelookedgoodwithabitofcolour.Should she inviteMickey? It wasn’t right, him being all alone like that at

Christmas.Ontheotherhand,whenevershesawMickey,theytriedandtriedtoavoidthesubjectandthey’dmanageforabit,andthenthere’dbeapauseintheconversation and then somebody—okay, her—would have a brandy andCoketoomanyandthenitwouldallcomeout,theendlessagonyofmissingsomeoneso badly it felt like a hook caught in your side, all the time, snagging oneverythingyousaweveryday.No,seeingMickeywouldn’thelp,especiallynotwhenhehitthebrandyandCoketoo.AndyWilliamsstartedcrooning‘It’stheMostWonderfulTimeoftheYear’.

JackieconsideredthrowingtheCDplayeroutofthewindow.

The good thing about me, thought Mickey, is that I’m good atcompartmentalising.In his weaker moments he thought it was just because he’d had so much

practice;he’dmanagedwithhisgran,nobother,sohe’ddoitwithRosetoo,offgettingup toGodknowswhatwith somestupidman ina stupidblack leatherjacket.Asifhecouldcompetewithastupidmagicflyingbox.Stupid…No. See, he reminded himself, grabbing a wrench with unnecessary force.

Compartmentalising.Thatwaswhathewasgoodat.Headdown.Getonwiththejob—itwasn’tbadatAlfie’sgarage,notatall,theladsweregreat,andtheyweregoing to have a drinks night out thatwould be a right laugh.Because hewasgoodatcompartmentalisingsohewasgoingtogooutandhaveanightoutandacurryanda…‘Merry Xmas Everybody’ was screaming from the old radio in the garage.

Work,Mickeyknew,was thebestwayofgettingover things.Everything. Justthrowyourselfintoit.Neverthinkabout‘outthere’.IfyoucouldtalkaboutthematchonSaturday,andfixacar…If a car has somethingbroken, you fix it, thoughtMickey.Youdon’t go all

overspace,youdon’tmessaboutintime.Youreplacethepartsandthenitworksagainandit’scauseandeffectandyoudon’tneedtoeventhinkaboutanyofthatother…OhGod,whatifshedoesn’tcomehomeagain?That’s exactly thekindof thing I’mnotgoing tobe thinking about, he told

himselffirmly.He’d lostpeoplebefore.The thoughtdidn’tcheerMickeyupanymore than

Sladeblaringfromthefar-too-loudradio.

Thanks to Slade, itwas Jackiewho heard it first. The only sound she’d beenwaiting tohear.All this time,sinceshe’d lether littlegirlgo,againandagainandagain.Shepretended itwas fine; shepretended shewasall rightwithherpreciousRose—allshehadintheworld—vanishingwiththatdreadfulman.ButtherewasstillonlyonenoiseJackieTylerwantedtohear,anditwasthe

signal thatRosewas cominghome.And she couldhear it now.Agrindingofphantomgears.‘Rose!’

Back in thegarage, theChristmasmusicwasstillblaring.Mickeyblinked.Hewas sure he could hear something, definitely sure. Something that sounded alittlelike…astrange,loud,wheezingnoise.‘Hey,turnthatdown.Turnitoff,Stevo.Turnthatoff!John,shutup!’

Sureenough,thereitwas.Clearasabell.Rose.Shewasback!Mickeydroppedhistools.

Mickey and Jackie almost collided down on the courtyard of the estate. Afreezing wind blew through the concrete passageways; rattling the bin lids;sendingcrisppacketsdancingaroundtheflagstones.‘Mickey!’Mickeywastearingtowardsher.‘Jackie,it’stheTARDIS!’‘I know, I know, I heard it. She’s alive,Mickey! I said so, didn’t I? She’s

alive!’‘Justshutupaminute!’saidMickey,desperatetohearwherethesoundwas

coming from.He turned round and flinched as, suddenly, theTARDIS simplyappeared from nowhere, bouncing throughmid-air. It crashed into one of theestateblocks;rebounded,narrowlymissingaRoyalMailvan,andfinallycametorestagainstapileofdustbins.Jackie and Mickey watched, terrified. The door opened slowly. And out

came…afigure,dressed ina leather jacketabout foursizes too largeforhim.They’dneverseenhimbefore.‘Here we are then. London. Earth. The Solar System. We did it. Jackie!

Mickey!Blimey!No,no,no,no,holdon.Waitthere.I’vegotsomethingtosay.TherewassomethingIhadtotellyou,somethingimportant.Whatwasit?No,hold on, hold on. Hold on, shush, shush, shush, shush. Oh, I know! MerryChristmas!’Thenthestrangefigurecollapsedinaheap.Roseemerged.Jackiegasped,butherdaughter’sattentionwasimmediatelyon

thesplayedfigureinfrontoftheTARDIS.‘Whathappened?Isheallright?’Mickey moved over. ‘I don’t know, he just keeled over. But who is he?

Where’stheDoctor?’Rosequicklycomputedthatshecouldn’tgothroughwithtryingtoexplainit.

Shedidn’tknowhow,andshedidn’tknowifshebelieved itherself.Maybe ifshepretendedtobefinewithit,theywouldbetoo.‘That’shim,rightinfrontofyou,’shesaid,quickly.‘That’stheDoctor.’Jackie’sreliefanddelightatseeingherdaughter turnedtoexasperationas it

quickly became clear that once again Rosewas totally fixated on yet anotherweirdstranger.‘Whatdoyoumean,that’stheDoctor?DoctorWho?’

4

LonelyThisChristmas

Intheend,they’ddressedthestrangethinmaninpyjamasJackiehadproducedfromsomewhere,andputhimtobed.Nobodyseemedtoknowquitewhattodo.Then Jackie briefly vanished and returned brandishing a stethoscopetriumphantly.‘Herewe go,’ she announced. ‘Tina the cleaner’s got this lodger, amedical

student,andshewasfastasleep,soI just tookit.ThoughIstillsayweshouldtakehimtohospital.’Roseshookherhead‘Wecan’t.They’dlockhimup.They’ddissecthim.One

bottleofhisbloodcouldchangethefutureofthehumanrace.No!Shush!’Carefully,sheinchedupthebed,closertohim.Itseemedjustsostrange;this

oddperson,whohadoncebeen theDoctor.Sheapproachedhimcarefully.Hesmelled the same, thatwas funny; that odd combination of chalk dust, boiledsweets,limeanddiesel.Shecarefullyplaced the stethoscopedown, firstonone side, then theother.

The soft thump in her ears stayed steady. There he was. It was the Doctor,absolutely.Shethoughtthisoughttomakeherfeelbetter.Oddly,itdidn’t.ItwasaTime

Lord,maybe.Butitwasn’therTimeLord.‘Bothworking,’sheannounced.‘Whatdoyoumean,both?’saidJackie,whohadherarmsfolded.‘Well,he’sgottwohearts,’explainedRose.‘Oh,don’tbestupid,’saidJackie.‘Hehas.’‘Anythingelsehe’sgottwoof?’‘Leavehimalone!!’Withonebackwardsglance,RoseledJackieoutoftheroom,leavinghimto

sleep. As they left, a further stream of TARDIS energy, golden in theatmosphere,lefthisbody,unobserved;spunoffintotheuniverse;settingalarms;drawingattention.

Roserealised,suddenly,thatshewasstarving.Foodwouldhelp.Sherifledinthe fridge.Shesaw the little turkeycrown,butdidn’twant to thinkabout thatrightnow.Insteadshepulledoutaminiporkpie,asJackiebustledbehindhermakingcupsoftea,heranswertoeverything.‘Howcanhegochanginghisface?Isthatadifferentfaceorisheadifferent

person?’shewasasking.‘Howshould Iknow?’ shotbackRose.Then she relented,because thatwas

exactlythequestionshewasaskingherself.‘Sorry.ThethingisIthoughtIknewhim,Mum.Ithoughtmeandhimwere…’Neitherofthemsaidanything.Rosefoundshehadtearsinhereyes.‘And then he goes and does this.’ She rubbed her face crossly. ‘I keep

forgettinghe’snothuman.’Todistractherself,shetookanotherporkpieoutofthefridgeandlookedatit.Thenshetookhermother’ssleeve.‘Thebigquestionis:where’dyougetapairofmen’spyjamasfrom?’Jackieshrugged.‘Howard’sbeenstayingover.’‘What,Howardfromthemarket?Howlong’sthatbeengoingon?’‘Amonth or so. First of all, he starts delivering to the door and I thought,

that’sodd.Nextthingyouknow,it’sabagoforanges…’Rose’sattentionwanderedtotheTVnextdoor,whichwasshowingthenews.

‘IsthatHarrietJones?’‘Oh, nevermindme,’ said Jackie loudly, butRose had already headed next

door.Harriet Jones had been the politicianwho had helped Rose and theDoctor

defeattheSlitheenwhenthey’dallbeenlockedinside10DowningStreet.Rosehadadoredher,andtheDoctorhadpredictedgreatthingsinherfuture.‘Why’ssheonthetelly?’Rosesaid,staringatthescreen.‘She’s Prime Minister now. I’m eighteen quid a week better off. They’re

callingit“Britain’sGoldenAge”.Ikeeponsaying,myRosehasmether.’‘Didmorethanthat,’saidRose,cheeringup.‘StoppedWorldWarThreewith

her.Andnowshe’sPM—HarrietJones!’Harrietwasgivingaspeech,andforonce,Rosestoppedtowatchapolitician.‘…Idon’tmeanthistosoundlikeapresidentialaddress,butthesavingscan

be implementedby January the1st.ThenewCottageHospital schemewillbeavailablenationwidefromthatdate,resultinginbetterhealthcareforall.Somemight call it radical. I call it vital!And Ihope that agreatmanypatientswillsleepsoundlytonight,asaresult—’Thetelevisionpresenterinterrupted.‘PrimeMinister,whataboutthosewhocalltheGuinevereOnespaceprobea

wasteofmoney?’

The Prime Minister looked haughty. ‘Now, that’s where you’re wrong. Icompletely disagree, if you don’t mind. The Guinevere One space proberepresents this country’s limitless ambition: British workmanship sailing upthereamongthestars.’Nowon screenwas amodel of a small probe ship. Itwas a terriblemodel;

Rosesquintedatitabit.Theyshowedhowitwasmovingthroughspace.‘TheunmannedGuinevereOne is about to begin its final descent,’ said the

voiceover.‘RealphotographsoftheMartianlandscapeshouldbereceivedbackonEarthatmidnighttonight.’NowtheTVcuttoapressconference,withasignupabovethatreadBritish

Rocket Group. The man talking, with his bald head, beard and seriousexpression,lookedoldandyoungatthesametime,andthechyrononthescreenreadDanielLlewellyn,GuinevereProject.‘This is the spirit ofChristmas, birth and rejoicing, and the dawn of a new

age,’ said Llewellyn, ‘and that is what we’re achieving fifteen million milesaway.Ourveryownmiracle…’

Of course, back at the industrial park, they were all watching. The staff hadgatheredinthecommunalarea—Duertehadtriedtorenameitthecontrolroom,butasitalsocontainedthestafffridgeandthetea-andcoffee-makingfacilities,ithadn’tcaughton.But therewasahugescreenhungonthewall,andeveryonehadgatheredroundtoseetheirbossonliveTV.A ragged cheer had gone up when he appeared, rapidly hushed so people

couldlisten,butMatthew,LuanneandDuertewereunimpressed.‘Hesoundslikeamassiveponce,’saidDuerte.‘Isaidtheyshouldhaveletmedoit,’saidLuanne.‘Llewellyn put the team together, directed the operations, oversaw the

strategic developmentand letme andDuerte get onwithour programming inpeace,’Matthewpointedout.‘Ithinkweshouldlethimhavehismoment.’The other two made sucking noises, but everyone fell silent as the screen

changedtoshowthemodeloftheirprobeagain.

Back on the Powell Estate, Jackie glanced at her daughter,who rather lookedlikeshe’dhadarugpulledoutfromunderherfeet.‘EverbeentoMars?’Jackieasked.‘Nope.God,Ifeel…Earthbound.They’resendingoutspaceships—andwhat

aboutme?I’mstuckathome!’Jackierolledhereyes.Rosehadbeen‘stuckathome’forhalfanhour.

Far, far out, where the cameras didn’t show, the little probewasmoving; thetiniestdotoflightinthevastblacknothingnessofspace,itssolarwingsspinninggentlyintheendlessnight,itsownlightsdisplayingthelittleUnionJackcarvedinitssideonitslong,longjourney.Llewellynhadinsistedontheflagfeaturingalongsidethescientificequipmentandalittletimecapsuleofhumanity, just incase…Itmightbeatiny,infinitesimalchancethattherewasalienlifeoutthere,and an even smaller chance thatGuineverewould bump into them, but if shedid…Beneaththeseriousexterior,DanielLlewellynwasabitofaromantic.Andthenthebumpcame.Outinthevastwildernessofspace,theprobehitsomething.Somethingithad

notbeenable tosense; somethingnobodyhadknownwas there;notMatthew,LuanneandDuerte;notHarrietJones,notDanielLlewellyn.Guinevere had hit the side of a giant rock that NewMexico’s Very Large

Arraymusthavemissed;thatJodrellBankhadnotevennoticed.Andsuddenlyapanelopened.Thiswasclearlynoordinaryrock.Therewassomethinginsideit.White light shoneoutand the little spaceprobewassucked inside thegreat

mass of the block of moving granite. And the little door in the rock faceslammedshut.Anddarknessreturned.

5

HereComesSantaClaus

RosehaddecidedintheendtoleavetheDoctortosleepwhileshewentoutwithan overexcitedMickey, who wanted to do some Christmas shopping. OxfordStreetwasbusyonChristmasEve,andRosecouldn’thelpbutfinditexciting—yes, obviously the universe was an incredible place, seeing everything they’dseen.Butthiswassomethingspecial too.Familiarity.Home.Peoplesheloved.AndChristmas!ShegrinnedastheypassedabrassbandalldressedupinSantaClausoutfits,playingaversionof‘GodRestYeMerryGentlemen’;laughedatthehugedecoratedtreebehindthem.Ofcourseshe’dbeenoutofworkformonths,hadneverneededanymoney.

ShesmiledcautiouslyatMickey.‘Sowhatdoyouneed?Twentyquid?’hesaid,readinghermind,ashealways

could.‘Doyoumind?I’llpayyouback.’‘CallitaChristmaspresent.’Rose took in the heavily decorated surroundings, the people carrying trees,

shopwindowslitupandthelightseverywhere.‘God, I’malloutofsync.You just forgetaboutChristmasand things in the

TARDIS.Theydon’texist.Yougetsortoftimeless.’Mickeymarchedonbesideher. ‘Oh,yeah, that’s fascinating,because I love

hearingstoriesabouttheTARDIS.Oh,goon,Rose,tellusanotheronebecauseIswearIcouldlistentoitallday.TARDISthis,TARDISthat.’‘Shutup,’saidRose,laughingathim.‘Oh, and one time the TARDIS landed in a big yellow garden full of

balloons!’‘I’mnotlikethat!’saidRose,mock-indignant.‘Oh,yousoare,’saidMickey.‘Mmm,mustdriveyoumad.I’msurprisedyoudon’tgiveuponme.’‘Oh, that’s the thing, isn’t it?You can rely onme. I don’t go changingmy

face.’Roseturned.Thatonehadstung.

‘Yeah?Whatifhe’sdying?’‘Okay,’saidMickey,lookingashamedofhimself.Rosefeltbadforsnappingathimandtookhishand.‘Sorry.’Mickeysighed.Hemissedhersomuch—missedwhattheyusedtobe.Missed

thefuturehehadoncethoughttheymighthave.Hetookadeepbreath.‘Just let it be Christmas. Can you do that? Just for a bit. You andme and

Christmas.NoDoctor,nobogmonsters,nolifeordeath.’‘Okay,’saidRose.‘Promise?’‘Yes,’saidRose,andMickeyknewthatwasthebesthewasgoingtoget,and

hedidn’twanttoriskherdroppinghishandagain.‘Right!What’reyougoingtogetforyourmum?’They wandered down a side street into a Christmas market. ‘God Rest Ye

MerryGentlemen’wasplaying,almostasiftheyonlyknewonesong.‘I’m round there all the time now, you know,’ saidMickey. ‘She does my

dinneronaSunday,talksaboutyouallafternoon,yap,yap,yap.’Rose smiled. Mickey didn’t have parents; and her mother would start

mothering anyonewithin a ten-mile radius.Shewasglad theyhad eachother.EvenifsheknewhermumwasameansecondbesttoMickey.Rosespottedsomethingoutofthecornerofhereye.Itwastheband,thebrass

band dressed up as Santas. Their tinweldedmaskswere actually eerie in thedark,andthey…No.Shehadbeenawayfortoolong.Itwasludicrous.TheywerenotbeingfollowedbyaSantaband.She stared, uneasy, as the creepy bunchmoved in front of her andMickey,

holdinguptheirinstrumentsstiffly.Thehairsroseonthebackofherneck.Shelookedonestraightinthefaceanditjerkedaway,quickly,asiftoavoidlookingather.Rosetoldherselfshewasbeingridiculous.Orwasshe?Couldn’thertravels

have left her senses heightened to danger? Mickey was still talking as theywalkedaway;hehadn’tnoticeda thing.ButshewantedtokeepaneyeonthemaskedbandastheSantasmovedtowardsthem,stillplaying.She noticed their masks weren’t plastic, as she’d imagined they would be.

Theyweremetal,aclearhardmetal.Thefixedsmileslookedgrotesquepaintedontothesmoothsurfaces.Rosefoundshecouldn’ttakehereyesoffthem…Theattackcameincrediblyfast.ThefirstSantalifteditstromboneandahuge

gout of flame blew out fromwithin. Rose screamedMickey’s name, grabbedhimanddivedtothepavement.Severalofthestallswerecaughtbytheblastofflame and immediately started to blaze. The shopping crowds panicked and

startedchargingaway.MickeyandRosegotupandcrawledbehindtheneareststall.ThefigurewiththeFrenchhornwasslowlyraisinghisweapon.‘It’sus!’Roserealised.‘ThoseSantasareafterus!’Now an electrical stall exploded in front of them; the air was filled with

screams and Mickey pulled her away. All of the Santas were lined up now,shootingdeadlyexplodingmissiles;followingthemastheydesperatelytriedtoescapedowntheroad.Theirtinweldedmaskslookedlesslikenoveltiesnowandmorelike—couldtheybesomekindofrobot?Rose didn’t have time to think as they dived for cover, and stall after stall

burstintoconflagrationallaroundthem.OneoftheSantashadtheminitssights,fixingthemwithitspainted-oneyes.

Itlifteditstuba.AsRoseandMickeyfroze,paralysedinitssights, theSantajerkedfromthe

recoil as a huge missile hit the enormous Christmas tree in the centre of theplaza. It burst into flame and collapsed immediately on top of the Santa,knockinghimover,andgivingRoseandMickeythedesperate,precioussecondstheyneededtomaketheirescape.Theyheardtherattlingofthetinmaskasitfellofftoreveal—what?Andthen

theyweregone.‘What’sgoingon?’pantedMickeyastheyran.‘What’vewedone?Whyare

theyafterus?’The air was suddenly filled with sirens; police cars and ambulances were

screamingpast.‘Taxi!’Rosewavedherarmwildly,asafamiliarblackcabsloweddown,even

throughthechaosofpeoplecharginginfrontandbehindit,andtheyjumpedin.‘They’re after theDoctor,’ said Rose, then leaned forward. ‘I’ve got to get

home.PowellEstate,endofJordanRoad.’And shepulledout her phone, even asMickey stared at her, breathless and

upset.‘Ican’tevengoshoppingwithyou!Wegetattackedbyabrassband!Andwhoareyouphoning?’‘Mymum,’saidRose.‘What’sshegottodowithit?’‘She’sindanger!’RosewilledhermumtopickupbutallshecouldhearonthelinewasBeep-

beep-beep.Beep-beep-beep.‘Comeon,comeon…’Shehungupandrangagain,hungupandrangagain.‘Getoffthephone!’‘WhatwerethoseSantathings?’Mickeyasked,stillshakinghishead.‘Idon’tknow.’Rosestaredglumlyoutof therearwindow,whereshecould

just see the flames licking up behind the buildings. ‘But think about it. They

wereafterus.What’simportantaboutus?Nothing,excepttheonethingwe’vegottuckedupinbed.TheDoctor.’

6

O,ChristmasTree

Back in the flat, Jackiewas rabbiting on to her friendBev in the next block.JackielikedBevalot.Bevhadbeenahairdresserforthirty-fiveyears,soshedidJackie’srootsonthecheapandwasatremendouslistener.Whileshetalked,Jackiemadetwomugsoftea—oneforherselfandonefor

themysterymanasleepinthenextroom.‘…sosheturnsup,see,nowarning.I’vegotnothingin.Isaid,Rose,ifyouwantaChristmasdinnerofmeatpaste,thensobe it.’Shepaused,grimaced. ‘Oh,no.Don’t come round,darling.No,you’d be sorry, flat’s all topsy-turvy. Yeah, she just barges in and litters theplace.Yeah.No,I’llcomeroundandseeyouonBoxingDay…’Bev liked Jackie and didn’t like to interrupt her rattling on. She knew how

lonelyshewas.Itwashard,knockingaboutonyourownlikethat.Sheworriedabouther.ThankgoodnessshehadHowardnow,butevenso.Therewasalimitto how much conversation one could make about grapefruit. So Bev madeapprovingnoisesasshestirred tomorrow’scranberrysauce;shehadherwholenoisy,boisterous, lovingfamilyarriving in themorninganditwasgoing tobecrazy. Nicely crazy, but crazy nonetheless. She found Jackie babbling oncuriouslyrestful.Jackiefeltrelaxednow,too.ShelikedtopretendRosedidnothingbutannoy

her,whilstrubbingit intoherfriendsthatherdaughterledanamazingaction-packedlifeoftravellingandadventure.Thestrangemanwasstillasleepinbed,andJackieleftthemugofteabesideit,withoutpausingforbreath.Thenshelefttheroom.Once again, the golden regeneration light emerged from the prone figure,

shoneinthequietroom,thenvanishedoffintothegalaxy…

RoseandMickeyburstintotheflat,pantingforbreath.Jackiewasstillchatting.‘GET.OFF.THE.PHONE!’Roseshouted.‘It’sonlyBev.Shesayshello!’saidJackie.Rosegrabbedit.‘Bev?Yeah.Look.It’llhavetowait.’Shehunguprudely,andJackiefrowned.

‘Right,it’snotsafe.We’vegottogo.Allofus,andtheDoctor,we’vegottogetout.Wherecanwego?’‘MymateStan,’saidMickey.‘He’llputusup.’Rosegavehimoneofher looks. ‘That’sonly twostreetsaway.Whatabout

Mo?Where’sshelivingnow?’‘Idon’tknow.PeakDistrict?’saidJackie.‘Well,we’llgotoCousinMo’sthen.’Jackie stared at her, dumbfounded. ‘It’s Christmas Eve! We’re not going

anywhere!What’reyoubabblingabout?’Roserealisedthatthethreeofthemyellingateachotherwasn’tgoingtohelp

matters,andmadeadeterminedefforttoslowdownandlowerhervoice.‘Mum.Trustme.Someone’saftertheDoctor.Therewerethesethings—theylookedlikeSanta,theyhadthehatsandfaces,liketheywereusingallthatChristmasstuffasadisguiseand…’Shecaughtaglimpseofsomethingoverhermother’sshoulder,andstopped

short.Somethingwasverywrong.RosehadspenteighteenChristmasesinthisflat.Eighteenyearsofdryturkey

andhermumhavingtoomuchbrandyandcryingaboutherdadandgettingthephoto albums out again.And each year they got out the same oldwhite tree.TheywoulddredgeupthetattypaperangelsthatRosehadmadeinherfirstyearatschool,andtheancienttinselthatgotmoreandmoremoth-eateneveryyear…Thattreewasoneofthefirstthingssheeverremembered.Sheknewitaswellassheknewherownbed.She’dknowitanywhere.Thethinginthecorneroftheroomwasn’ttheirtree.She lowered her voice further. ‘Mum.Where’d you get that? That’s a new

tree.Where’dyougetit?’Hermotherglancedround.Thetreeinthecorneroftheroomwasbeautiful:

hugeandlushandgreenandperfectlydecorated.‘Ithoughtitwasyou.’‘Howcanthatbeme?’‘Well,youwentshopping.Therewasaringatthedoor,andthereitwas!’Rose’sheartwasbeatingfasternowandshefeltpanicstealoverher.‘No.Thatwasn’tme.’‘…thenwhowasit?’saidJackieastheyallturnedtolookatit.Slowly, and ominously, the bottom of the tree lit up, and started playing a

tuneless,meanderingversionof‘JingleBells’.Rosecouldonlystare.Thenextlayeroflightswenton,andthenthenextandthenext,allthewayuptothestaratthetop.Rose’svoicewasawhisper.‘Oh,you’rekiddingme.’

Thetreebegantorotate,impossibly,differentsectionsgoingdifferentways—andnowitwasmovingforwards,towardsthem,thebranchesfastasabuzzsaw.Itlookedlikeajoke,asifitweremeanttobefunny—rightuptothesecondit

startedtomove,thedeadlyarmsmovingroundatterriblespeed.Itglancedoffthecoffee table and tore through it likeawoodchipper; tiny sectionsof razor-sharpwoodspittingeverywhere,creatingahurricane-likewindintheroom.‘Getout!’MickeyshoutedtoRose,whohadalreadygrabbedhermum.‘Go!

Go!Get out!’Andhebravelypicked up a chair, as if fending off a tiger, andstoodinfrontofthewildChristmastree.Rosepulled Jackieback towards thebedroom,evenas shewasopening the

frontdoor.‘Whatareyoudoing?’screamedJackie.‘Weneedtogetout!’‘We’vegottosavetheDoctor!’Roseshoutedinresponse.‘Wecan’tjustleave

him!’HerattentionwasdivertedasthetreestartedtoshredthelegsofthechairMickeywasholding.‘Mickey,getoutofthere!’Hethrewtheremainsofthechairatthetree—whichdidn’tslowitdownfor

aninstant—andtheyallranforthebedroom.Thetreesimplyburstintothecorridortowardsthem.Jackiewasdistraught.‘Leavehim,’shescreamedabouttheDoctor.‘Justleavehim’–evenasthetree

broketheinternalwindowinthelivingroomandglassshatteredeverywhere.‘Getinhere,’saidMickeygrimly,pullingherwiththemintothebedroom,and

asthetreeboredownonher,Jackiedidso.SheandMickeypulledawardrobeacrossthebedroomdoor.TheawfulChristmasmusichadspedup;thehorribletinnybouncysoundrisingoverthewhirofthebranchesasthethinplywoodofthecheapdoorbegantoshredundertheonslaught.The Doctor was still lying there, on his back in the bed, completely

unconsciousandabsolutelyoblivioustothecommotionhappeningintherestoftheflat.Jackiewasfrantic.Thiswasridiculous.Despitetheurgencyofthesituation,Rosewenttowardshimandkneltonthe

bed.‘Doctor,wakeup!’Surely.Surelyhe’dhearher.Surely,ifhewasreallytheDoctor…Sheleaned

over,foundhissonicscrewdriverinhisoldjacketpocketandputitinhishand,asthetreewentontearingitswayrelentlesslythroughthedoor.‘I’m going to get killed by a Christmas tree!’ shrieked Jackie in fear, now

coweringonthefloor.SheandMickeyhadleaptbackasthedoorgaveway,andthen the wardrobe shattered, and the tree began to spin through the wreckeddoorwayandintotheroom.Rosedidn’tevenlookround.ShebentdownandwhisperedintotheDoctor’s

eartwowords:

‘Helpme.’Withoutwarning,theslimfiguresatboltuprightandpointedthesonicatthe

tree—whichpromptlyexploded.The razor-sharpbranches hit thewall like giant darts of fir, one two inches

fromJackie’shead.Sheturnedtolookatit,uncomprehendingly.Nowthemusicandthescreaminghadstopped,itwassuddenlyveryquietintheroom.‘Remote control!’said the Doctor loudly, immediately awake and alert, and

withafierceexpressiononhisface.‘Butwho’scontrollingit?’

7

ItCameUpontheMidnightClear

TheDoctorleaptoutofbed,pulledonadressinggownandranoutoftheflat.Rose,MickeyandJackiefollowed,tryingnottolookatthedevastation.Rosesoonfound thatshedesperatelyneeded thecold,crispfreshair.Down

below,bythebinsandtheoldcaruponblocksthathadn’tbeenmovedinlivingmemory, stood the sinister figures of the three remaining Santas from theshopping plaza.Onewas holding a perfectly ordinary-looking remote control,andthestrangemetalmasksturnedtolookupatthem.‘That’sthem!’saidMickey.‘Whatarethey?’‘Shush,’saidRose.Shedidn’twant todrawattentionto them;thewaytheir

absolutely normal look had invaded their Christmas; her Christmas. And shewanted—needed—to pay attention to somebody else. She needed to seewhatthisnewDoctorwasdoing.Hisangularfacewascold,hisgazefixedontheSantasbelow.Heraisedthe

sonic as if itwas a deadlyweapon, gesticulated in a threateningway and theSantasbegantobackaway,uncertainly.Thenheaimeditstraightatthem,downinthechillyemptycourtyard.Immediately,theystartedtoglowblue,then,withawhoosh,teleportedaway.Rosestaredattheemptycarparkandthoughtsheshouldfeellessdread.But

she didn’t. Not at all. She looked at the Doctor and her heart sank. She hadthoughtthatthatmightbeit;thathewouldbebetter.Butinfacthewasleaningagainstthewall;sweating,clearlyunwell.Shedartedtohisside.‘They’vejustgone!’Mickeywassaying.‘Whatkindofrubbishwerethey?I

mean, no offence, but they’re notmuch cop if a sonic screwdriver’s going toscarethemoff.’‘Pilotfish,’saidthestrangenewTimeLord,inexplicably.‘What?’saidRose.‘Theywerejust…pilotfish…’TheDoctorcollapsedagain,gaspinginpain.‘Whatisit?What’swrong?’saidRose.‘Youwokemeuptoosoon.I’mstillregenerating.I’mburstingwithenergy.’

He took a sharp deep breath in, then exhaled, and once more the strangegolden mist emerged from his mouth; floating, beautiful, incandescent;becomingonewiththestarrysky.Theyallwatcheditgo.‘Yousee?That’sit.Thepilotfishcouldsmellitamillionmilesaway.Sothey

eliminate thedefence—that’s you lot—and they carryme off. They could runtheirbatteriesoffmeforacoupleof—’Hecollapsedinagony.‘Oh!’saidJackie.‘Ohno!’‘My head,’ said the Doctor, anguished. ‘I’m having… I’m having a neural

implosion.Ineed…’Theytriedtohelphiminsideashestaggered.‘Whatdoyouneed?’saidJackie.‘Ineed—’‘Sayit.Tellme,tellme,tellme.’Buthecouldn’tgetthewordsout.‘Ineed—’‘Painkillers?’offeredJackie.‘Ineed—’‘Doyouneedaspirin?’‘Ineed—’‘Codeine?Paracetamol?Oh,Idon’tknow,Pepto-bismol?’‘Ineed—’‘Liquidparaffin?VitamicC?VitaminD?VitaminE?’‘Ineed—’‘Isitfood?Somethingsimple.Bowlofsoup.Anicebowlofsoup?Soupanda

sandwich?Soupandalittlehamsandwich?’Withatremendouseffortofwill,theDoctorstraighteneduphishead.‘Ineed

youtoshutup!’JackieblinkedandlookedatRose.‘Hehasn’tchangedthatmuch,hashe?’Itwas odd,Rose thought. Jackie seemed to have acceptedwithout question

whatsheherselfcouldnotmanage.TheDoctor tried to stand, fighting the pain. ‘We haven’t gotmuch time. If

there’s pilot fish, then’—he withdrew his hand from his pocket in surprise—‘whyisthereanappleinmydressinggown?’‘Oh,that’sHoward.Sorry.’‘Hekeepsapplesinhisdressinggown?’‘Hegetshungry!’‘What,hegetshungryinhissleep?’‘Sometimes!’

BeforetheDoctorcouldcommentfurther,hecriedoutasanotherhugewaveofpaincrashedthroughhim,andhesaggedtotheground.Rosekneltdownwithhim.‘Brain collapsing. The pilot fish. The pilot fish mean that something,

something…’HeopenedhiseyesandstareddirectlyatRose.‘Something…somethingiscoming,’hecroaked.Andthenhepassedout.

Rose put the Doctor back to bed. He was worse. She knew he was worse,althoughshetriednottothinkaboutit.Shestaredathisfaceforalongtime,andmoppedhisbrowwithacleanhandkerchief.Thestrangestofthings;everythingabout him had changed. The nose, which had been a boxer’s nose, was nowaquiline;thebrownotsocreasedwithworry.Allthathair.Hewasasdifferentamanascouldbe.Andyet,oddly,whenhehadspokentohermumlikethat,ofallthings,she’dseenaglimpseofthepersonshehadknown.Andthenthatglimpsewasgone.Youstrange,strangething,shethoughttoherself.Shewantedtostayawhile,

in the dark and the quiet of the bedroom.She took the stethoscope out again,listened; listenedagain.Oneof theheartbeatshad fallenstill.Andoutside, thepilotfishwerecircling…Mickey hadmanaged to fetch his laptop from his flat.He popped his head

roundthedoor,sawherface,didn’twanttocontinue,butknewhehadto.‘Ifoundit.’Rosenoddedandsighed,notwanting to leave.Butshegotupandfollowed

him into their sitting room. Jackiehaddoneaprettygood tidying job already,considering.Mickeysatdown,plugginghiscomputerintothephonesocket.‘Jackie,I’musingthephoneline.Isthatallright?’‘Yeah,keepacountofit,’saidRose’smumfromthekitchen.‘Pilotfish,’saidMickey.‘I’veseenthemontelly,holdon,I’llshowyou…’Hesetaboutthecomputer.JackiecamethroughwithacupofteaforRose.‘Ooh,it’smidnight,’shecooed.‘ChristmasDay!Anychange?’‘He’sworse.Justoneheartbeating,’saidRosequietly,acceptingthetea.They turned their attention to the television. The reporter was standing

lookingexcitedinthestudioinfrontofalargepictureoftheGuinevererocket.‘Well,someone’shappy,anyway,’saidJackie.

TherehadbeenpanicinthelabwhenGuineverehadblackedoutonscreen.Thetechnicians had completely lost the picture; hadn’t a cluewhat had happened.

They’dcheckedandrecheckedthefeed,buthadfoundabsolutelynothinginthepanic.Duerte’sheadwas inhishands.Matthew felt a little tearful. If all theirworkwastocometonothingorifsomethingincrediblewashappeningandtheycouldn’tgetthecamerasup…Luannewashastilyputtingtogetherapressrelease—andbriefingNumber10

on reasons they could give if they had to postpone—when suddenly, out ofnowhere, the systemswere online again. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief.Guineverewaswhereshewasmeanttobe.Hercameraswereout,itseemed,butthatwas all right;when the time came, they could land her remotely and theworldwouldseesomethingthen.Theyreallywould.Thesituationwasfarfromideal,andeventshadgiventhemallafright,butitwouldmakeagreatanecdoteintimestocome.Or,atleast,soMatthewferventlyhoped.Duertekickedbackhisseat,stuckhisfeetonthedeskandtriedtopretendhe’dneverbeenremotelyfreakedouttheentiretime.ItwasaGo.AndnowDanielLlewellynwasontelevisionagain.Backatthelabtheycould

haveleftbeforetheblackout;nowitwasallhandsondeck.ButMatthewwasn’tsurethey’dwanttogohomeanyway.Itwassuchamomentouspinnacleofyearsof work; it felt right that they should all be together, no matter how manyfrustratedspousesweredealingwithoverexcitedchildrenbackathome.Matthewcalledhismumanddad,whowerestayinguplatetowatchit,fullof

pride.EvenDuerte’sfamilyinPortugalhadmanagedtotunein.Llewellynwas,tosaytheleast,alittleuneasyaboutappearingontelevision.

His throatwasdryandhelookedveryverynervous,butwasclearlydoinghisbest.‘ScientistsinchargeofBritain’smissiontoMarshavere-establishedcontact

with the Guinevere One space probe,’ said the cheerful reporter. ‘They’reexpecting the first transmission from the planet’s surface in the next fewminutes.’The picture cut to Llewellyn. ‘Yes, that’s right, we are. We’re back on

schedule. We’ve received the signal fromGuinevere One. The Mars landingwouldseemtobe…’Hisvoicegrewslightlymorehesitant.‘…anunqualifiedsuccess.’‘Butisittruethatyoucompletelylostcontactearliertonight?’‘Yes,wehadabitofascare,’saidLlewellyn,withaforcedsmile.‘Guinevere

seemedtofalloffthescopebutit,itwasjustablip.Onlydisappearedforafewseconds… she’s fine now, absolutely fine. We’re getting the first picturestransmittedliveanyminutenow.I’dbettergetbacktoit.Thanks.’

Jackie sniffed. ‘Pictures of Mars, they’re all the same. Just rocks and dust.Nothingcomparedtowhatwe’veseen.’Mickeyhadmanagedtogetthedial-upconnectionworking,andpulledupthe

websitepagewithapictureofthelittlefish.‘Herewego.Pilotfish:scavengers,liketheDoctorsaid.Notmuchofathreat.

They’retiny.Butthepointis,thelittlefishswimalongsidethebigfish.’‘Doyoumeanlikesharks?’saidRose.‘Great big sharks. So,what theDoctormeans is, nowwe’ve had them, the

pilotfish,anytimenowwe’regonnaget…’Heclickedontoapictureofahuge,black-eyed,emotionlessshark,teethondisplay.AchillstruckRose’sheart.‘Somethingiscoming.’Thatwasthelastthingthe

Doctorhadsaid.‘And here’s the image, coming through live …’ The television announcer

soundedexcited.‘Howcloseistheshark,then?’‘There’snowayoftelling,butthepilotfishdon’tswimfarfromtheirdaddy.’‘Soit’sclose?’‘…directfromthesurfaceofMars…’Jackiewasn’t listening toRose andMickey. Shewas transfixed by theTV.

Great broken-up blocky pictures were coming through; the reception wasterrible.RoseandMickeylookedup.‘Funnysortofrocks,’saidJackie.‘The first photographs,’ intoned the news reader, ‘from the surface of the

planet…’‘That’snotrocks,’saidRoseinhorror,astheimageresolved,resolvedagain,

becameclearerandclearer,finallyshowingitselftobe—aface.Afrozenimageofafacestaringintocamera,butlikenofaceRosehadever

seen:brightredeyesandabright redmouth;agoat-shapedskull,butmadeofjagged, broken bones; a fierce intelligence burning into the camera; long,hideousteeth,assharpasthoseofthesharkonMickey’slaptop.Thesomething,whateveritwas,woreredrobes.Rosemovedtowardsthescreen,fingersoutstretched.JackieandMickeyboth

kept staring at it. The alien face seemed to be frozen; and then suddenly theimage moved, the red eyes flashed and it roared, and bared its huge teeth,straightdownthelensofthecamera.

8

ISawThreeShips

Allofthetelevisionchannelshadswitchedtorollingnewsimmediately.‘The face of an alien life formwas transmitted live tonight—onBBCOne,’

saidthemanontheBBC.OnAMNN,TrinityWellswastalkingabouthowthehumanracehadbeenshownabsoluteproofthatalienlifeexisted.Therewasn’tachannelthatwasnotbroadcastingtheastonishingdiscovery.Alonglineofsleekblackcarsspedthroughthenight,arrivinginfrontofthe

Tower ofLondon. Following the horrifying video,DanielLlewellyn had beensummonsedandhewasvery,veryconcerned.Thiswasn’t…Well.Thishadn’tbeenexpectedatall.Ascientistallhislife,partofhimcouldn’thelpbutbeincrediblyexcitedby

thediscovery.Ohsure, there’dbeen rumours;whispers.Buta real,undeniablealien!Andhewasrightintheheartoftheaction!Hetookadeepbreath.Staycalm,Llewellyn,hetoldhimself.Staycalm.Asecretserviceofficeropenedthedoorforhim,andhewasgreetedbyatall,

serious-lookingarmyofficerleadingatroopofRedBerets.‘This way, sir,’ said the man, who appeared to be in charge, and Daniel

Llewellyn entered the great citadel; the edifice that had protected Britain forhundredsofyears,andwhichwasnowthebaseforoneof themostambitiousorganisationstheworldhadeverknown:UNIT.UNIT, the Unified Intelligence Task Force, was an internationally funded

covertmilitaryoperationsetupaftertheSecondWorldWarbothtoopposealienthreats tohumanityand tostop those threats frombecomingpublicknowledgeandcausingmasspanic. It functionedallover theworld, and itsUKbasehadrecentlybeenmovedtooneofthemostsecurecitadelsonEarth—theTowerofLondon.Orrather,ninestoreysbeneaththeTowerofLondon.Ifyouhaveever takenaLondonUnderground train,had tochangeatBank

station,andwonderedwhyitissuchaninfernalmess,beassuredthere’sagoodreason.Much of the Tube had to be rerouted to accommodate the vast secretnetworkofworkshopsandvaultsfanningoutfromfarbelowTowerHill.Ifyouareever feelingbrave, tryopeningoneof theMonument tunneldoorsand see

howlongittakesthedeceptivelysleepy-lookingLondonUndergroundguardtowrestleyoutotheground.TheDoctorhadworkedwithUNIToften,andwasaclosefriendofitsnow-

retired head, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. Major Blake, who had greetedLlewellyn,wasthecurrentrankingofficer:agoodmanwithaseriousmind.But theDoctorhadhated themove toTowerHill. It never failed to remind

him of a night, long ago. A freezing, starlit London dark lit only by torches,whenhehadrowed, insilence,ayoung,beautiful,utterly terrifiedwoman,herskinfairasmilk,tremblinginanguish,throughTraitor’sGate.He’dhadaplantosaveher.Ithadfailed,andshehadneverseenthesunrise

beyond the Tower’swalls again, and he could never see the buildingwithouthearingtheplashingofhisoarsinthedarkwater;themutedsobbing;thedeathlyrattleoftheportcullischains.

DanielLlewellynhadneverheardofUNIT.Butheknewonething:thiswasthemost astonishing thing that had ever happened to him or, in his opinion, anyLampetergraduate.And now, regardless of the grave task that lay ahead of him—he expected,

even as his heart sank to his boots, that important scarypeopleweregoing towant answers from him that he simply didn’t have—hewantedmore time, totake in every detail of his clandestine journey; to appreciate the mechanicsbehind theastonishing lift that silentlywhisked themdown fromanunnoticedcorridorbehindthegiftshop.Itplummetedatarateofknotsthenslidopenupona vast roommarkedBasementLevel 11.Daniel found himself plunged into avast centre of activity, of important-looking people rushing about, and anatmosphereofveryseriousfocus.‘You’ve got better facilities than us!’ he said at last. ‘I spend all that time

asking for funds for space exploration and you’ve built your own MissionControl!Howlong’sallthisbeenhere?’MajorBlakebarelyglancedathim.‘I’msorry,allinformationisonaneed-to-knowbasis.’‘Haveyoubeenmonitoringus?’‘Everystepoftheway.’‘But…whatfor?’askedLlewellyn.‘Justincase,’saidMajorBlake.‘And,asitturnsout,wehadgoodreason.If

you’dliketocomethrough…’Llewellynfollowedhimintothesmallroom,stilldesperatelylookingaround

him.

Hefoundhimselfinadarkofficemadeentirelyofglasspanels,overlookingMissionControl.Anumberofmonitorswererunning,allof themshowingthealienroaronaloop.StandingintheroomwasthePrimeMinister.Llewellyn felt like he’d fallen down a rabbit hole. Harriet Jones looked

concerned,butfundamentallyincontrol;herhairandsuitwereneat,herpostureintense.Shewassmallerthanshelookedontelevision.Therewasanothermanintheroom;young,withaheadsetattachedtohisear.‘MrLlewellyn,ma’am.’The PM, rather surprisingly, immediately took out her ID and showed it to

him.‘HarrietJones.PrimeMinister.’Llewellynwasrathertakenabackatthat.‘Oh.Well.Yes.Iknowwhoyouare.

Iwas just saying,quiteaplaceyou’vegothere. Iwishyou’dgivemy lot thismuchsupport.’ThePrimeMinisterfixedhimwithaglance.‘Hardlythetimetocriticiseme.’Hewinced.‘No,sorry…IsupposeI’veruinedyourChristmas.’‘Neveroffduty,’saidHarriet,andLlewellyncouldwellbelieveit;hewasglad

he’dvotedforher.‘Now,we’veputoutacoverstory.Alexhasbeenhandlingit.’Theyoungmanwiththeheadsetinthecornersteppedforwardandindicated

the monitor. ‘We’ve said it was a hoax. Some sort of mask or prosthetics.Studentshijackingthesignal,thatkindofthing.’‘Alex is my right-handman,’ explained Harriet. ‘I’m not used to having a

right-handman.Iquitelikeit,though.’‘Iquitelikeitmyself,’saidAlex,smiling.‘Idon’tsupposethere’sanychanceitwasahoax?’saidLlewellyn.‘Thatwouldbenice,’saidHarriet.‘Thenwecouldallgohome.Buttherewas

anincident,thisafternoon,inCentralLondon,youmighthaveheardaboutit?’‘Yes,somethingtodowithabrassband?Andafreakstorm?’‘Anotheroneofourstories,’sniffedHarriet.‘Maybenotthebest,mostofthe

staff’sonholiday.’‘Thenwhatwasit?’‘Somesortof…skirmish.Idon’tsupposeanyone’sofferedyouacoffee?’‘Um,no.’ToDaniel’sastonishment,thePrimeMinisterofGreatBritainstartedtomake

himacoffeefromthefiltermachineinthecorner.‘Milk?’‘Yes,thanks,justmilk.’Llewellyndidn’ttakemilkatall,buthewasterribly

flustered.Harrietbroughtitover.‘Alex,canIgetyouacup?’

‘No,I’mfine,’saidAlex,rathermorenonchalant.Hewasobviouslyusedtosuchattention.‘My grandfather,’ Harriet announced abruptly, handing Llewellyn the mug,

‘wasabitofawildcard.Spentquitea fewyears inVenezuela, tried tobuyagoldmine,losteverypenny.‘Buthewouldtellusallsortsofstories.Adventures.Talesofrebelfactions,

comingdown from themountainsand raiding the townships.Healwaysknewwhenaraidwasbeingplanned,becauseoftheskirmishes.’She took a step closer, her voice low. ‘In the days before an assault there

would be, just, little incidents, small scale, thefts and looting. Opportunists,makingthemostofit,beforetheproperattack.‘And it’s thesamewithaliensvisiting thisplanet.Weget small incidentsat

first,suggestingsomethingbiggerisapproaching.’Llewellynstaredathiscoffee,tryingnottooverreact.‘Youseemtobetalkingaboutaliensasamatteroffact.’Harriet Jones smiled rather wickedly in a way that made her look years

younger.‘There’sanActofParliamentbanningmyautobiography.’MajorBlakeclearedhisthroat,lookingserious.‘PrimeMinister?’‘I’mwithyou.’Harrietleftwithhim,andbeckonedLlewellyntofollow.Back in the basement, he looked around inwonder.Awhole newworld…

why on Earth were they not working on the space programme together? Thethingstheycoulddo!Hecouldn’twaittotellMattandDuerte…ifpermitted,ofcourse.ItstruckhimthatLuanneprobablyknewallthisalready.Itstruckhimslightly

moreslowlythatthereasonthey’dthoughtLuanneneverdidanythingwasthatshewasn’tactuallyworkingforthematall,andhewincedalittleathisnaivety.But therewasn’t time to think about that now; theywere headed into anotherspace,filledwithexpensivecomputerequipmentandstaffdeepinconcentration.Ayoungwomanlookedupastheyapproached.

Sally Jacobs, the young woman at the desk, had been surprised where she’dendedup.Ofcoursethearmydidn’tgiveyoumuchsay.AndLondonwasbetterthan, say,Afghanistan.Although shewould have quite likedBelize. Even so,having to tell people her jobwasmore or less looking afterBeefeaterswas alittledemeaning.Still.ShegotonprettywellwithLuanne,hercolleagueatGuinevereOne. It

wasgoingtobeprettydifficulttoexplainhowshewasmissingChristmasagain,

though.ShethoughtRobwasprobablycomingtotheendofhistetherwithher.Well,she’ddealwiththatintheNewYear,because…She was surprised to see the Prime Minister turn up without security in

advance;andsurprised toseehowtallDanielLlewellynwas.Helookedmuchbetter than his file picture, she found herself thinking… Then She collectedherself,andjumpedup,tryingtolookasprofessionalaspossible.Thiswasbig,shethoughttoherself.Thiswasn’tBeefeaters.SallypastedonasmallsmileasshestoodupforthePrimeMinisterandher

team.MajorBlakenoddedtowardsher.Hewasthebestbossshe’deverhad,bymiles.‘MissJacobscanexplain.’Sallysteppedforward,butbeforeshecouldbeginHarrietputoutherhand.‘Wehaven’tmet.HarrietJones,PrimeMinister.’ThatwouldhavenormallyputSallyoffherstride,butshe’dbeenverywell

briefedastohowmodestHarrietwas.‘Yes,Iknowwhoyouare.’Sallywishedhermumcouldseehernow.Shetook

adeepbreath and spoke slowly. Itwashard to remember inUNIT sometimesthattherewerepeopleoutthere—evenpeoplelikeDanielLlewellyn,workinginspace exploration—who didn’t know what was out there; who hadn’t evenimaginedit.Speakingslowlyusuallyhelped.‘So.It turnsout, thetransmissiondidn’tcomefromthesurfaceofMars.’Therewassilenceastheyletthissinkin.‘GuinevereOnewasbroadcastingfromapointfivethousandmilesabovethe

planet.’‘Inotherwords,’addedMajorBlake,‘thatscreamingalienhasgotaship;and

theprobeisonboard.’Llewellynblinked,astonished.‘But,thentheymightnotbefromMarsitself.

Maybethey’renotactualMartians.’‘Of course they’re not,’ said Major Blake. ‘Martians look completely

different.Wethinktheshipwasinflightandtheyjustcameacrosstheprobe.’‘And they’re moving,’ added Sally, studying Llewellyn to see how he was

takingthisnewsforthefirsttime.Hewasblinkingrapidly;youcouldalmostseehisbrain rearranging itself to thisnew reality.She rememberedwhen she firstfoundout.She’dbeenonly22.Shehadheld it together forhalf anhour, thengone and burst into tears in the toilet. She made her voice as gentle andunthreateningasshecould.‘Theship’sstillinflightnow.We’vegotitontheHubbleArray.’She pointed to the screen behind her. A dot could be seen on the radar. A

moving dot. It was strange quite how ominous that tiny bleep could sound.

Llewellyngazedatit,hypnotised.‘Movinginwhichdirection?’saidHarrietquickly.‘Towardsus.’‘Howfast?’‘Veryfast.’‘Whatwasyournameagain?’‘Sally.’‘Thankyou,Sally.’Harriet lookedvery, veryworried, as the blip continued tomove across the

radarscreen.

9

Hark!TheHeraldAngelsSing

Rosecouldheardrunkladssinginginthedistanceasshecrossedtheconcourseto the flat, carrying twoplasticbags.A lightblippedoverheadandshe lookedup,terrified.Butitwasonlyanaeroplane,passingonitsway.Safely inside, Rose was glad to find that Jackie was still at the Doctor’s

bedside. ‘Right then, let’s get him fixed. I went to the all-night chemist. Goteverykindofmedicineofftheshelf.’Roseemptiedthebags:coughmedicine,lotionsandointment.‘We’ve got to try them all, dab a bit on him, see if he reacts—he said he

needed something,maybe some sort of chemical. For allwe know it’s one ofthese.’‘Imadeastart,’saidJackieproudly,holdingupabottle.Rosesquinted.‘Butthat’sshampoo!’‘ContainsZTP!’saidJackie.‘Rose!’ shoutedMickey from the other room.Rose got up reluctantly, gave

hermumasternlook.‘Justbesensible,OK?’

Inthelivingroom,Mickeywastypingupastormonhislaptop.ThefirsttimeRose had met Harriet Jones, in Downing Street when thatRaxacoricofallapatoriusbusinesshadkickedoff,theDoctorhadhelpedMickey,akeenamateurhacker,byusinghissonicscrewdriveronthecomputertospeeditupandmakeeverythingabiteasier.Afterwards,hehadcompletelyforgottento remove this ability. Mickey wasn’t complaining; he used it mostly to wineBayauctionsbuthadneverlostsightofitspotential.Whichmeantthat,despiteUNIT’sexceptionallevelsofinternationalstandard

encryption security, thanks to Mickey’s Sony VAIO with 512mb of RAM,Mickey,Sally,DanielLlewellyn,MajorThomasBlakeandthePrimeMinisterofGreat Britain were all watching exactly the same feed, staring at the samepicture:theblip,travellingthroughspace.‘Rose!Takealook!I’vegotaccesstothemilitary!’

‘TheDoctortoldyoutowipeit!’saidRose.‘Yeah,yeah.But look, though, they’re trackingaspaceship.It’sbig, it’sfast

andit’scomingthisway.’‘Comingforwhat,though?’saidRose,peeringatthescreen.‘TheDoctor?’‘Dunno,but…it’slikewithallthatfishstuff.Thebigfishdoesn’tevenknow

thepilotfishexist.Thebigfishisjusthungry.Thebigfisheats.Somaybeit’scomingforallofus.’‘Howlongtillitgetshere?’saidRose,herinsideschilled.TheDoctorhadto

wakeup.Hehadto.‘It’salmosttoofasttofollow,’saidMickey.‘Butnottoolongatthisrate.’Therewasableep,thensomeinterferenceonthemonitor.‘Holdon.’Mickeystaredatthescreen.‘Theship—it’stransmitting.’

Harriet, Llewellyn and the team were staring at the big screen, in awe; thepictureresolved,slowlythroughthepixelsonceagain.Harrietfeltnervous,butslightlyexcited.Thiscountrywasherresponsibility

now,andshewasgladshewasn’tcomingtoabusinesslikethisfresh.Evenso,shewishedsheknewwheretheDoctorwas.Llewellynwasutterlygripped; terrifiedandelatedat the same time.Oneof

the biggest disappointments in his life had come when he’d started studyingphysicsandengineering,andrealisedthelimitationsonspacetravelmadeitveryunlikely that his generation would ever encounter extraterrestrial intelligence.He’dhopedagainsthope that someday inhis lifetimecontactmightbemade,buthewasnotexpectingit.SoLlewellynwasnotasapprehensiveastheothers;his awewas toooverwhelming.He realisedhismouthwas hanging open, andthat the girl, Sally, might have noticed it, so he shut it quickly and tried toconveyanonchalanceheabsolutelydidnotfeel.Aboutanything.This timetherewerefouralienson thescreen.Theirbodies lookedbig,and

bulky;astrangeroutlinethanhuman,butswathedinredrobes,andcoveredinwhatlookedlikepiecesofbone.Theyhadwhipsandswordsaroundtheirwaistslike warriors, and the one at the front—the leader, presumably—was talking.Althoughitsoundedmorelikesnarling;likethegrowlingofwolves.‘GATZTAKATAAAAA!!!!’screamedthevoice.‘KASOOMEFADROC.KA

SOO ME SYCORAX! KASH KACK PALHAA ME NO SO COVNA! BASSICCODRAFEEPELHUSTA!CODRAFEEMELSOTOR!!!!’

‘Haveyouseenthembefore?’MickeywasaskingRosebackintheflat,butsheshookherheadinhorror.‘No!’

‘SO PEDRA CAY! SO PANDACK! SOO MASSAC REL BEECRO, COLCHACKCHII!SYCORAJAK!SYCORATELPO!SYCORAFAA!!’

‘Translation software,’ ordered Major Blake at UNIT control, and Aleximmediatelymovedtowardsthedoor.‘Yes,sir.’Allofthealiensjoinedinwiththefigureonthescreen,screamingfuriously.

‘SYCORAJAK!!SYCORATELPO!SYCORAFAAA!!!!’

StaringatthehackedUNITfeed,Rosecouldn’tgetherheadaroundit.‘Idon’tunderstandwhat they’re saying,’ shesaid, indespair. ‘TheTARDIS

translatesalienlanguagesinsidemyhead,allthetime,whereverIam.’‘Sowhyisn’titdoingitnow?’askedMickey.‘Idon’tknow.MustbetheDoctor.Likehe’spartofthecircuit,andhe’s,he’s

broken…’Herfacewasdesolate.‘He’snotjustsick…he’sgone.’

10

IntheBleakMidwinter

Major Blake and the Prime Minister found a corner in which to converseprivately.‘I’mgettingdemandsfromWashington,ma’am.ThePresident’sinsistingthat

hetakecontrolofthesituation.’HarrietJonesraisedhereyebrows.‘YoucantellthePresident,andpleaseuse

theseexactwords:He’snotmyboss,andhe’scertainlynot turning this intoawar.’‘Withrespect,ma’am.Forallyourexperience,youhaven’thandledanything

likethisbefore.’‘Withrespect,Major,’saidHarrietJones.‘Whohas?’ShemovedquicklytowardsAlex,whowasbusywiththetranslationsoftware

onhislaptop;hewasplayingthealienmessageonaloop.Itsoundedevenmorethreateningwhenrepeatedoverandover.‘Whathavewegot?’‘Nothingyet.Translatinganalienlanguageislikecrackingacode:it’sgoing

totaketime.’‘Forallweknow,thatwasamessageofpeace,’saidMajorBlake.‘Howfar

offisthisship?’‘Aboutfivehours,’saidAlex.Harrietrubbedherforeheadwithherhands.Fivehours.Thecountdownhad

alreadybegun, it seemed.And they did not understand yetwhether theywerefriendorfoe.ThiswasworsethanherfirstPrimeMinister’sQuestions.Shethoughtabouthomesacrosstheland;childrenoverexcited—upalready?

Ohno,theyweresurelyfastasleep,dreamingofsugarplums—itwasthenightbeforeChristmas:butsomethingwasstirring.AnditwasHarriet’sjobtoprotectthem;everyone.Andshedidn’thavethe

faintestideawheretostart,ifAlexandthegoodpeopleatUNIT—thecleveresttheyhad;thecleverestanybodyhad—couldn’tcrackthecode.Sheneededmore tea.Andohmygoodness, shehad tocallhermother; the

poorlovewouldbeterrified.

EvennowAMNNwasreportingthatNATOforceswereonredalert.

Jackie was kneeling by the Doctor’s bed. ‘Come on sweetheart,’ she cooed.‘Whatdoyouneed?’Butthefiguredidn’tstir.

Mickeywas listening to the transcript of the alien conversation, trying a fewthings, but getting absolutely nowhere. It was four o’clock in the morning.Christmasmorning.NevermindSanta’ssleigh,herewasashipfullofaliensonitsway;didtheycomeinheavenlypeace,ortotearopentheEarthlikeapresentunderthetree,andthrowthewrappingaway?Hethoughtabouteveryoneheknew;Stevo’skidsfromdownthegaragewho

couldn’tstoptalkingaboutthePlayStationtheyweregoingtoget,whilstStevosaid of course they wouldn’t, they hadn’t behaved themselves, all the timesmiling fondly, andMickey knew he’d had itwrapped and hidden behind thetyresforthreeweeks.On the television behind him, the newsreader said, seriously, ‘People are

callingthis…ourlongestnight…’Whatwasthemorninggoingtobring?Hefeltterrifiedandalone.Heglanced

aroundforRose.Shewasn’tthere.

RosehadgoneintowatchtheDoctorwholaystillasacarvedknightonatomb.Jackie had fallen asleep in the chair next to thebed, all the uselessmedicinesscatteredaroundher.Roselookedatherwatch:itwas5a.m.now.Andstillnochange.

Fivemilesnorth,DanielLlewellynsatonthestonestepsoftheembankmentinfrontoftheTowerofLondon,justatthebaseofthefamousbridge.Dawnwasbreaking.Itlookedlikebeingaperfect,blue-skied,winter’sday.Danielheardfootstepsbehindhim;itwastheUNITstaffer,SallyJacobs.She

smiled rather anxiously at him, and he made to stand up politely before sheshooedhimdownagain,thenhalf-returnedthegrin.‘Nothingyet?’‘Nothingyet,’sheagreed,holdingoutacoffee.‘Ididn’taddanymilk,’shesaid.‘Well.Well,that’skind,’saidDaniel,takingitasshemovedtositdownonthe

stepbesidehim.‘Soyou’vehadusundersurveillance?’‘Yes,sorry.Itdoesratherblightgettingtoknowsomeone.’Helookedather,andtheysmiled,nervously,atoneanother.

‘Whatdoyouthinkwillhappen?’hesaid.‘Imean,I’mguessingyou’vebeenthroughthiskindofthingbefore.’Sallyblinked,notwantingtogiveawaytoomuch,nortogivefalsehope.Not

that therewasmuchabout, since therewas another fly in theointment:UNITcontrolwastryingtogetintouchwiththeiroldally,theDoctor(shehadnevermethim,butshehadheardanawfullotabouthim).Sofar,theydidn’tappeartohavehadmuchluck.Llewellynnotedherreticenceimmediately.‘It’sallright,’hesaid.‘I’vebeentellingpeopleI’vebeenworkingonwashing

machinesforthelastfouryears.’Shesmiledatthatandtheysharedamomentofunderstanding.Hewarmedhis

handsaround thecupshe’dbroughthim;shefoundshewas twirlinga lockofher hair round her fingertips. As soon as she realised she was doing it, sheabruptlystopped.Henoticedherstoppingandblinked.Sallyjumpedup.Thiswasridiculous.Shemovedtowardsthewater,looking

allaround;shiveringinthecold.‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ shesaid, just forsomething tosay.Thesunwasslowly

risingaboveLondon’slatesthalf-builtskyscraper:arocket-shapedstructurethatUNIThadorderedbenicknamed‘theGherkin’incasepeoplegotanyideasofwhat they were planning to build inside it; above the gleaming spires of theTower,bouncingoffthesparklingThamesallthewaydownthebendoftherivertoWestminster.AllLlewellyncouldseeweretheraysdancingoffthegoldofSally’shair.It

wasChristmasmorning.Itmight,Llewellynthoughtsuddenly,bethelastdawnhe’deversee.Andyet,somehow,outhereinthesilenceofanemptycity,alonewithabeautifulgirl,hesomehowwasn’tquiteasscaredashemighthavebeen.

Rosewasstillstandinginthedoorframe,staringin.Mickeyjoinedher.Hefeltwashedout.‘Hey.’‘Howareyougettingon?’Mickey’sattemptstodecodethealienlanguagehadcometonothing.‘Ican’t

even translateFrench,’ saidMickeysadly. ‘Christmasmorning.Everyone’llbewakingup.Openingtheirpresents.Noideawhat’scoming.’‘Evenhisvoicechanged,’saidRose,followingadifferentlineofthought.Mickeylookedather.‘Yeah,that’sourbiggestproblemrightnow.’‘Howcanhechangehisaccent,though?’‘Well, you pick up accents, don’t you? Depending who you’re with.

Dependingwhoyou’recloseto.’

Hisvoicewasquiet.‘Maybehegotitoffyou.’Rosewasshakingherhead.‘ButtheDoctorwouldn’tdothis.TheoldDoctor.

TheproperDoctor.He’dwakeup.He’dsaveus.’ShemovedintoMickeyandlaidherheadonhisshoulder.‘Oh,Ilikethat,’saidMickey.‘He’sletyoudown,soIgetallthehugs.’NothingmarkedMickeysowellinthewar—hisownwar,theonlyonehewas

never,evergoingtowin—asthemannerinwhichhetookhisdefeats.‘Youreallylovehim,don’tyou?’hesaid.Buthestoodstrongandhetookthe

sobbing,andthehugging,untilmorningcame.

11

WalkingintheAir

UNITwasneverfullyquiet;peoplewerestillworkingandonduty,efficientandchillyas theatmosphere.MajorBlakewassittingalone,asHarrietapproachedhim.Sheglancedaround,buttherewasnobodyclose.‘I don’t suppose we’ve had a Code Nine?’ shemurmured. ‘No sign of the

Doctor?’‘Nothingyet,’saidBlake.‘You’vemethim,haven’tyou?I’veonlyseenthe

classifiedfiles.Morelikethestuffoflegend.’‘Heisthat.’Shesighed.‘Failinghim,whataboutTorchwood?’Blakestuttered.‘Well.I-Idon’treallythink…’‘I know I’m not supposed to know about it, I realise that. But if ever we

neededTorchwood,it’snow…’‘Nothing’sbeentested!’‘ThenIsuggesttheystart,’saidHarriet.TheMajorshookhishead.‘Ican’ttakeresponsibility.’‘Ican.Seetoit.Getthemready.’TheMajorhesitated,onlyforaninstant.Thenhegotupandwalkedoff,his

mouthagrimline.Harrietsaggedinherseat,andjustforaninstantthefullweightoftheoffice

passedoverherbrow.‘PrimeMinister?’It was Alex. There was something about his youthful face and boundless

enthusiasmforhardworkthatmadeherforgetherownfatigue.Sheforcedherselfupright.‘Hasitworked?’‘Just about,’ saidAlex.He pressed the button again, and the growling tape

played.Hetalkedoveritatthesametime.‘“People”—that could be cattle. “You belong to us. To the Sycorax.” They

seem to be called Sycorax, notMartians. “Weown you.We now possess yourland, yourminerals, yourprecious stones.Youwill surrenderor theywill die.Sycorax strong, Sycoraxmighty, Sycorax rock.”As in themodern sense, theyrock.’

Llewellyn and Sally had reappeared for this and now stood close together.Theylookedatoneanother,theirworstfearsconfirmed.Llewellyn,who’dbeen regarding themonitor quietly, liftedhis head. ‘They

willdie?Notyouwilldie,theywilldie?Who’s“they”?’‘Idon’tknow,’saidAlex,‘butitistherightpersonalpronoun.It’s“they”.’Harriet’sfacewassetinagrimmask.‘Canwesendamessageback?’‘Canwedothat?’AlexaskedSally,whonodded.‘Ifthey’relistening,yeah,’

andLlewellynglancedather,impressed.‘Thensend thema reply.Tell them:This is adayofpeaceonplanetEarth.

Tellthem,weextendthatpeacetotheSycorax.’Alexwastypingitin.‘Thentellthem:Thisplanetisarmed…andwedonotsurrender.’

Mickeywaswatchingitallfromthefrontroom.‘You’dbettercomeandsee this!’heshouted toRose,whowaswashingher

hair.‘Aliensonline.’

ThefourSycoraxappearedagain,inadiamondformationthistime,withone—theleader,Llewellynsupposed,watchingonthehugescreenatUNIT–standingup.The creaturewalked towards the probe camera, and held up his hands.His

fingerswerebony;skeletal,withonlyskeinsofskinbetweenthem.Heopenedhis palm out to the camera.And then his fingers just flicked out. Flicked outtowardsthem,againandagain,insmalljerkymovements,andglowedblue.Andsuddenly Llewellyn could see a little blue light dancing around his fingers;flutteringaround,thetiniestbobbinglight.Andthentheimagefizzedoutinreverse,andcutdead,andwasgone.Theroomlookedroundinpuzzlement.‘Whatwasthat?’Harrietwasstillstaringatthemonitor.‘Wasthatareply?’‘I don’t know… It looked like some kind of energy or… static?’ suggested

Alex.‘Maybeit’sadifferentformoflanguage,somesortofideogramorpictogram

or…’ Llewellyn looked straight at Harriet. ‘It looked to me like they werecastingaspell.’

Llewellynwasthefirsttospotit,asSallyJacobssuddenlygotaglazedlookonherfaceandheadedfortheexit.Bluelightwasdancingoverherhead,asitwas

overmanyothersintheroom.Asiftoaprearrangedsignal,theyallgotup,asone,andfollowedher.‘What the hell? It’s the light! It’s the same light!’He caught sight of Sally

movingaway.‘Sally,whatareyoudoing?Sally?’Danielattemptedtopullherback,butshepushedonandkeptongoing;she

couldnotbestopped.Shedidn’tevenreact,continuedwalking.Hereyeswereopen;shewasn’tbumpingintothings.Butitwasasifsheweresleepwalking,asifshewereinacompletelydifferentworldtohim,utterlyindifferent.‘Letgoofher, you’ll hurt her!’ saidHarriet, andLlewellyndroppedSally’s

armlikeitwashot.Thesoldiersatthedoorraisedtheirguns—althoughseveralofthemhadlefttheirpostsandwerewalking,likeSally,asifintheirsleep,buttheMajororderedthemtostanddownimmediately.‘Letthempass!’orderedBlake.‘Butwherearetheygoing?’saidAlex,astheywatchedthesleepwalkersmove

onwardinutter,eeriesilence,asifaspellhadbeencastuponthem.Hebegantofollow.

Backintheindustrialpark,stuckinhiswheelchair,ofcourse,Matthewcouldn’tchaseDuerteupthestairs.Okay,they’dhadalongnighttryingtogetsomeonetotellthemwhatwasup;

tryingtogetDanieltoanswerhisbloodyphone,whichappearedtobeblocked.But even so, he’d never knownDuerte sleepwalk before.And not just him—loadsofpeoplearoundhereweredoingthesame.They’dturnedintozombies.And the light.Thatweird light flickeringover them, the likeofwhichhe’d

neverseenbefore.Helplessly Matthew screamed up after Duerte. ‘Come back! Come down!

What’swrong,don’tyouwanttoeatmybrains?’Butthefigureswereblank,andremoved,anddidn’tstop,orturnaround,and

Matthew could only watch as they got higher, and higher up the stairs, andfinallydisappearedfromview.

JasonOvertonfromthelaundrette,hisfacecompletelyblank,walkedrightpastJackie’s front door, pursued by a frantic woman crying, ‘What’s wrong withyou?Jason?Jason!’Rose heard the commotion and came out. She recognised her neighbour

immediately.‘Sandra?’‘Hewon’tlisten.He’sjustwalking.Hewon’tstopwalking!There’sthissort

oflightthing…’

Thepaleblueglowwasflickeringoverhishead.‘Jason?Stopitrightnow!PleaseJason,juststop!’Rose looked down and caught her breath. Right through the estate, like

zombies, wearing pyjamas or half-dressed, were dozens of people. Pursuingthemanxiouslywere friendsand families,begging them to stop, trying topullthemback.Itwasnouse:thoseaffectedseemedlikerobots,theirpacerelentless.Rose’sheartsank.Thesharksweregettingnearer.

AtUNITtoothefullextentoftheinvasion—orinfection,orwhateveritwas—was becoming clear, as Harriet, Alex and Llewellyn rushed out to follow theblank-eyedmarchers.‘They’reallheadinginthesamedirection,’Harrietpointedout.‘It’sonlycertainpeople.Whyisn’titaffectingus?’saidLlewellyn.Alexhunguphisphonewithagrimlookonhisface.‘PrimeMinister,reports

are coming in. The same thing is happening all over the country. There arethousands of people affected—maybe millions—and nobody knows how orwhy!’

12

AngelsWeHaveHeardonHigh

Itwasn’tjustalloverthecountry.Itwasallovertheworld.Desperatefamilieswere runningbesideblank-staring,zombifiedmen,womenandchildren,allofthem taking stairs, or escalators, or pressing into lifts, heading in the samedirection—up.FromtheTowerofLondontotheColiseuminRome,fromtheTajMahalto

Sydney Harbour Bridge: as if hypnotised, fathers and sons, mothers anddaughters walked steadily onward, all pursued by their increasingly desperateandhysterical lovedones. If pulled to theground, theywould fight backwithsuperhuman strength, until theymade theirway free, then simply carry on. Iftheywerelockedinrooms,theywouldbreakout;iflockedincells,theywouldwalk in the same direction, banging their heads off the walls, scraping theirfingernailsdowntonothingtryingtogetout.Babieswereabandonedbythesideoftheroador,ifscreamingtoreachonedirection,pickedupandcarriedalongwitheveryoneelse.Themotherswerefrantic.Theymarched,agreat,hypnotisedsilent,eeriearmyofhumanity;fromevery

town,fromeveryvillageandcity,tothehighestpointneartothem.Theywereheadingfortheirnearesthigh-risebuilding.Anythingwithstairs,anythingwithsteps. Fire escapes. Towers. Castles. Skyscrapers. Onwards, they marchedrelentlessly,ontotheroofs;slowmovingfeetclangingonfireescapes.Righttotheveryedgesoftheroofs,poisedonahundredmillionprecipices.Andthentheystopped.

LlewellynfollowedSallyuptothetopoftheTowerofLondon,thecityspreadbelow. She stood there, in a line with all the others, frozen, like a robot. Apoliceman was reporting just below them. ‘They’ve gone right to the edge.They’regoingtojump.They’reallgoingtojump!’Danieldidn’tpullorgrab,butheverygentlytookherhand.Shedidnotfeel

it,orifshedid,shegavenosign.Itfeltascoldasice.Helookedatit.‘Sally,justlisten.Juststop,’saidLlewellyninhiscalmestvoice.‘It’sDaniel

Llewellyn.Danny.Sally,justconcentrate.Listentome.Weneedyou.Stopthis,

Sally!’Daniel’sphonerangandhestoodbacktoanswerit,unabletotakehiseyesoff

thegirl,herhairstreaminginthewind;notlookingquitehumananylonger,butlikesomethingferalwaitingtotakeflight.Alexfromdownstairswascalling.Hisvoicewasscaredandlow.‘Accordingtoreportsit’sathird.One-thirdoftheworld’spopulation.That’s

twobillionpeoplereadytojump.’Llewellynlookedatthegirlontheledge,andhedidn’thavetoeventhinkof

allthepeoplebalancedontopofthepyramidsofEgypt;thepeopleteeteringonthewindyfretworkoftheEiffelTower;hedidn’thavetothinkabouteveryone.Hehadtothinkaboutoneperson,andhedidn’thesitate.‘Wehavetosurrender,then,’hesaid.‘Surrenderorthey’lldie.’

RoseandMickeystoodattheverytopoftheirbuilding.Theystaredout,takinginthesightofeverytowerblockroofinSouthLondon,asfarastheeyecouldsee,linedwithhumansilhouettes.Allthewayacrosstherivertothebuildingsinthecity;eachprecipiceaclusterofdarkhumanshapeslikefliesonfruit.‘It’saninvasion,’saidMickey,hisbloodwellandtrulychilled.‘Differentway

ofinvading,gottagivethemthat,butallthesame.Whatdowedo?’Rose’s facewas stony. ‘Nothingwecan do.There’snoone to saveus.Not

anymore.’

Harrietwasdemandinganswers.Llewellynhaddescended.Hecoulddonothingupstairs;perhapshecouldbemoreusefulinMissionControl.ButhehatedleavingSallybehind.He’dcalledhisparents;theywerefine.But

theneighbours—themotherand the littlegirlhadgone, justwalkedoutof thehouseonafreezingmorning,intheirpyjamas.Hismother’svoicewasgreywithanxiety;shepleadedwithhersontocomehome.‘Ican’t,Mam.I’mtryingto…I’mtryingtohelpouthere.’‘Withthis?What’sitgottodowithwashingmachines,bach?’‘Juststayinside,Mam.I’ll…I’llbehomewhenI’mable.’‘Allright.MerryChristmas,yes?’Llewellyn found he was unable to respond and, swallowing heavily, gave

himselfasecond,hungup,thenturnedround,shakinghishead.‘Whyareonlysomepeopleaffected?’hesaiddismally.‘Whynotus?’Alexwasdesperatelyleafingthroughthefilereportscomingin,andlistening

tohisheadset.‘Waitaminute.Theremightbesomekindofpattern.Allthesepeopletendto

befatherandson,motheranddaughter,brothersandsisters.Familygroups,but

notsooftenhusbandsandwives.’Llewellynblinkedforasecond.Thatremindedhimofsomething.‘Somesort

ofgeneticlink,but…’Then it came to him in a flash. ‘Oh my God. It’sGuinevere One. These

people,doweknowwhatbloodgrouptheyare?No,waitaminute,haveyougotmedicalrecordsonfile?Forallyourstaff?’‘Ofcoursewehave,yes,’saidAlex,startingtorise.‘Butwhy—?’‘I need to see them.’ Llewellyn grabbed Alex by the arm and steered him

towardsthemaindoors.‘Now.’And they left, Llewellyn hoping that his hunchwasn’t true. But he feared,

withahorriblestoneofcertaintyinhisstomach,thatitwas.Andifthatwasthecase,thenthisentirethingwasallhisfault.

‘WhataboutTorchwood?’HarrietJonesaskedthequestionstraightout.MajorBlakestilldidn’tlikethe

word being spoken aloud. Things between the two agencies were… well,‘delicate’tosaytheveryleast.Andsomethinglikethissteppedrightacrossallthelines;torethroughtheChinesewalls.Heglancedleftandrightandloweredhisvoice.‘Stillworkingonit.Bearinmindtheyhavejustlostathirdoftheirstafftoo.’‘Butdotheyhavewhatweneed?’Blakelookedherintheeyes,unflinching.‘Yes,ma’am.’‘Then,forGod’ssake,tellthemtohurryup.’

Daniel Llewellyn, perspiring slightly, logged in to the database in the recordsroom, helped by a scared-lookingmember of staff. Personal UNIT files wereguardedlikegold.‘Here it is. Sally Jacobs, blood groupA positive.’ His heart was pounding.

‘Whoelsewalkedout?’‘LukeParsons,’saidAlex,glancingup.Llewellyntypedhisnamein.‘LukeParsons.Apositive.’‘JeffreyBaxter.’‘Baxter.Apositive.That’sit.They’reallApositive.Canyoucallyourboss?’Harriet and the Major arrived in an instant, and Llewellyn explained the

situation.‘HowmanypeopleintheworldareApositive?’askedBlake.‘Noidea,butI’llbetit’sone-third,’saidLlewellyn.‘What’ssospecialaboutthatbloodgroup?’

‘Nothing.’Llewellynsatupslowlyandblewairthroughhismouth.Thiswasthemomenthe’dbeendreading.‘It’smyfault.’Sighingheavily,heturnedroundtofacethem,hisfacedistraught.‘GuinevereOne. It’sgotoneof thoseplaquesidentifying thehumanrace.Amessage to thestars. Imean, it’sstandardform,really;youdon’texpectanythingtocomeofit,butIputonmapsandmusicandsamples…There’swheatseeds,andwater,and…and…blood.’‘Whose?’Harrietdemanded.‘It’sDuerte’s,oneofthetechguys—Apositive.’Llewellynswallowedheavily

andstaredatthefloor.

‘Ihateneedles—Iwastoocowardlytousemyownblood.Andnow,theSycoraxhavegot avial ofApositiveblood, and,well, I don’t knowhow,but throughthat…’‘They’recontrollingone-thirdofthehumanpopulation,’saidHarrietquietly.Llewellynsankhisheadinguilt.‘Iputthebloodonboard.OhmyGod.’Harriet stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t blame

yourself.You couldn’t possibly haveknown.And if you’d chosenblood fromtheOgroupwe’d havehalf the populationout there.’ She turned to leave theroom.‘Major!Withme.There’sonlyonemorethingIcantry…’

13

SilentNight

RoseandMickeywentbacktotheflat.Theydidn’tknowwhatelsetodo.Rosefeltthoroughlydefeated.Thetellywasstillblaring.‘It’s on telly, they’re saying it’s everyone!’ said Jackie, rushing up to them.

‘Wholeplanet.Peoplejuststandingontheedge,there’stwothousandpeopleontheWhiteCliffsofDover…’Suddenly the television went black, and the words EMERGENCY BROADCAST

appearedonscreen.Harriet Jones sat behind a largewoodendesk, two largeUnion Jacks and a

Christmastreebehindher.SheglancedtochecktheTVcameraswereon,thenturnedtoaddressthenation.‘Ladiesandgentlemen…ifImaytakeamomentduringthisterribletime?It’s

hardlytheQueen’sspeech,I’mafraidthat’sbeencancelled.’Athoughtsuddenlyoccurredtoherandsheglancedoff-screen.‘DidweaskabouttheRoyalFamily?’Alexrespondedbyimmediatelyjabbingafingerupwards.‘Oh.They’reontheroof.’Harrietclearedherthroat.‘Allofthem?’Athisnod,

shetookadeepbreath.‘Ladiesandgentleman,thiscrisisisunique,andIverymuchfeartheremightbeworsetocome.Iwouldaskallofyoutoremaincalm.ButIhaveonerequest:Doctor.Ifyou’reoutthere.Weneedyou.’

OnthePowellEstate,JackieturnedtoglareatRoseandMickey.Harriet’svoiceblaredonoutofthetelevisionscreen.‘Idon’tknowwhattodo.Butifyoucanhearme,Doctor.Ifanyoneknowsthe

Doctor—’Roseturnedaway,herheartbreaking.‘—ifanyonecanfindhim—thesituationhasneverbeenmoredesperate.’RosewalkedslowlydownthecorridortotheDoctor’sroom,tearscascading

downhercheeks.‘…helpus,please,Doctor.Helpus.’

Rose leaned against the doorframe, sobbing like a child as shewatched theformofthismanwhowasnottherealDoctor,notanymore,stillinthebed.Thebrandnewfaceofherloss.Everythinginherlifehadfallenapartsoveryquickly,ithadvanishedbeneath

herfeet;everythingshehad;everythingshehadeverhopedfor…Jackiecameupquietlyandforoncedidnotstarttalking.Insteadshejustput

herarmaroundheronlydaughter.‘He’sgone,’sobbedRose.‘He’sleftme,Mum.He’sleftme.’Shesobbedevenharder,andJackie,whoknewathingortwoaboutunreliable

men,kissedherforeheadandstrokedhershoulderandcrooned,‘It’sallright,it’sallright,I’msorry…’Shewasstillmurmuringhersympathyasallthewindowsintheflatsmashed,

aseverywindowontheestateshattered,andastheglass-showeredearthbeneaththeirfeetbegantotrembleandthingscamecrashingtotheground.EverywindowinLondonsmashed,andstillitdidnotjoltthefrozensleepers,

standingup at theveryheights, as brokenglass raineddownon their terrifiedlovedonesgatheredbelow.Groaning heavily, a huge rockmoved into the sky, casting its shadow over

everything;themassivebelly-shakingrumbleofthenoiseitmadefeltacrossthecity.Itsdarknessseemedallthemoreawfulinthebrightwhitewinter’smorningofChristmasDay.

Llewelynwas screamingat the screen,as thealarmscameon, shouting that itwasthesonicwaveofthespaceshiphittingtheatmosphere,buteverywhereelsenobodyhadaclue.He was right, for all that it mattered: the ship hit the atmosphere, and the

shockwavereverberatedaroundtheworld.‘Hereitcomes,’hesaid,clingingontothebackofhischair,asifthatcould

savehim.

Noneof thepeoplestandingon theedges lookedup.But their lovedonesdid,and the screams and panic were terrible to hear. Their imprecations grewstronger,themoretheyattemptedtopullpeopleaway.InCalais,aman,tryingtosave his wife, lost his footing on a warehouse roof, and tumbled to his owndoom.Hiswifedidnotgivehimasecondglanceashefell.ThegreatshiploomingoverLondoncouldbeseenforahundredmiles.Itwas

likeahugegreyboulder; somehowhanging there inmidair,bothorganicandengineeredatthesametime.Thenthescreamingfellsilent.Everythingfellsilent.

Inadifferenttime,Rosewouldhavestood.Shewouldhavefought.Shewouldhavebeeninthecentreofanybattle,withtheDoctoratherside.Nowallofthathadbeenended.Shehadnostrategy;shehadnoplan.Shehad

thetwopeopleintheworldshewasclosestto,andthatwasgoingtohavetodo.Shedashedindoors,pulledthesheetsofftheDoctor.‘Mickey,we’regoingtocarryhim.Mum,getyourstuff,andgetsomefood.

We’regoing.’Mickeyshrugged.‘Whereto?’Roseglancedup.‘TheTARDIS.It’stheonlysafeplaceonEarth.’‘Whatwegoingtodointhere?’askedJackie,bemused.Roselookedup,utterlydefeated.‘Hide,’shesaidsoftly.‘Isthatit?’saidJackie.‘Mum!Lookinthesky.There’sagreatbigalieninvasion,andIdon’tknow

what to do, all right? I’ve travelledwith him, and I’ve seen all that stuff, butwhenI’mstuckathomeI’museless.Nowallwecandoisrunandhide,andI’msorry.Nowmove.’Jackievanishedtodoasshewastold.RoseheavedtheDoctorup,takingthe

shoulderend;Mickeytookthelegs.‘Right!Lift!’

HarrietJonesstaredhardatthehugescreen.Thesinisterbone-facedalienswereback,gatheredoncemoreinformation.‘They’retransmitting,’warnedLlewellyn,everymuscletensed.Alex ran the harsh, guttural speech through his handheld computer, and

translatedforthem:‘“Youarenowourproperty”—well,that’smorelike“goodsandchattels”.Um.“Nowwill the tribal leader”—that’s just“leader”Isuppose—“willtheleaderofthisworldstandforward.”’HarrietJonesimmediatelydidso.Herfacewascomposed.‘I’mproudtorepresentthisplanet.’‘SOOCALFORAXI!’screamedtheLeaderonscreen.‘Thatmeans…um…’Alexlookedup,hiseyesfrightened.‘“Comeaboard.”’‘Well,howdoIdothat?’saidHarrietJones,butjustasshedidso,allfourof

them were bathed in the blue light—they looked around at each other, eyesfrightened.‘Wh-What’shappening?’criedLlewellyn.

‘Iwouldimagineit’scalledateleport,’saidHarrietJones.‘Oratransmat.Oneof those words—’And she was still talking as they vanished into the ether,leavingtheremainingUNITstaffstaringaghastintoemptyspace.

DanielLlewellyn’sfirstthoughtuponarrivingonthespaceshipwasthatitdidn’tlooklikeaspaceshipatall.ItwasmorelikeadarkGothicamphitheatre.Muchofitwasindarkness,and

torchesburnedon thewall.Huge torn redbannerswerehung along the sides,and the vast spacewas linedwith benches.Rowupon row of aliens sat uponthem,tightlypacked,staringdownatthevaststagethattheirvisitorsfromEarthnowstoodupon.TheastonishingspeedoftheteleportationhadmessedwithLlewellyn’shead,

butnotbeforehe’dseenquiteclearly in frontofhimthousandsand thousandsmore of themenacing alien faces that had appeared on screen. The creatureswere absolutely as huge and dangerous-looking as he’d feared, and the greatroom smelled of something hot andmenacing: bodies, ready for battle.A fairdistanceaway,acrossthemetalfloor,wastheformationofSycoraxalienstheyhadseenonthemonitor.One,slightlytallerthantherest,anddressedinwhatappearedtobedecorated

battle armour—the one they’d seen on the screen—stepped forward. The fourhumans instinctively did the same. Then a surprising thing happened: theSycoraxLeaderliftedhishandtohishorrifyingskull-likeface.‘That’sahelmet!’criedLlewellynwithsuddenhope.‘Thisthing—itmightbe

like us!’ For a moment, that hope surged as he imagined the face of somesheepish, smirking human being beneath themask—that all of thiswas someelaborate,incrediblestunt,amonumentalprank.Whyorhowanyonecouldhavedone such a thing, he could not imagine—he knew only that there might behope.Slowly the alien removed the hideous carapace—to reveal an even more

menacing alien face of raw flesh and tight bone and sharp pointed teethunderneath.‘Ornot,’finishedLlewellynsoftly,asthealienstartedtobarkat theminhis

strange,fiercelanguage.‘PADSKAA!’screechedtheSycoraxLeader.ThehumansstaredatAlex,who

wasgazingaroundwithhismouthhangingopen.‘Padskaa?’promptedHarriet.Alexshookhishead.‘Sorry.Um.“Welcome.”’‘KA,JALVAAAN.’Alexlookedup,awkwardly.

‘“Now,surrender.”’‘JALVAAN!JALVAAN!’screamedtheSycoraxLeader,andinthehugegallery

around them, the Sycorax took up the chant; rattling their bone jewellery;banging staffs against the ground and waving their broadswords; all of onevoice:JALVAAN!JALVAAN!JALVAAN!The sound of the aliens’ screams shook the foundations of the blood-red

cavern.The fourhumansstanding inplace felt smallandhelplessand terribly,terriblyalone.

14

StoptheCavalry

RoseandMickeywerestrugglingtomanoeuvretheDoctoroutoftheflat’sfrontdoor, one at each end—Mickey had the feet, Rose had her arms under thestranger’sshoulders,hisheadpressedupagainstherstomach.Jackiehadseveralshopping bags and kept dropping them. All around them was pandemonium:peoplerushingtoandfro,ortendingthewoundedwho’dcaughttheworstoftheshatteredglass,orsimplygazingupatthedarkshadowoftheship.Still,ontherooftops,thesinisterlinesofpeoplewaited,watched;statuesonledges;carvedgargoylesandangels.‘Mum,willyoujustleavethatstuffandgiveusahand?’shoutedRose.‘It’sfood!’saidJackie.Shewasalreadybamboozled.She’donlybeeninside

theboxacoupleoftimes,butsheknewitwassomehowhuge.Theymusthaveakitchen. They travelled the universe, didn’t they? She knew her Rose wasn’teatingproperlywhenshewasaway,shewasfar too thin.His fault,again, thisDoctor,orthisstrangerwho—‘Justleaveit!’shoutedRose.Jackiethoughtthatiftherewasakitchenafterallitwouldhavebeenusefulto

knowbefore.AndifeverythingwasasbadasRosesaid,theymightbeinthereawhile…In a tizz, she dumped some of the bags and trailed along after the short

procession. If things were going to get bad, she thought, they’d still want asandwich.

BackontheSycoraxship,Alexwasstilltranslating.TheaggressivetoneoftheSycorax Leader was not, as he’d hoped, a linguistic twitch. It was simplyaggression.ThefactthatAlexhimselfhadasoft,refinedvoicemadetheterriblethreatssoundalmostworse.TheSycoraxLeader stoodbehind ahugedaismadeofblack twistedmetal.

Hisscalyhandhoveredoverahugeredswitchonthetop.Allofthemstaredatit.Itwasobviouswhatitmustbe,evenbeforeAlexcouldsaythewords.

‘“Youwill surrender, or Iwill release the final curse. And your peoplewilljump.”’Llewellyn’s heart sank. He had never been a brave man; or rather, he had

never,inallhisuniversitiesandlabs,beentested.Hehadneverknown.Andinhiscareless,boundlessoptimismatwhatmightbeoutbeyondthestars,hehaddirectlythreatenedthelivesofathirdofallthehumansonEarth.His thoughts sprangback toSally Jacobs suddenly, andahotdrinkoncold

steps, and winter sunlight on golden hair. He thought of the lines of peoplearoundtheworld,onthehighestcliffs,thatwouldhaunthisdreamsforever.Hehadno choice.Hepushedhisway to the front of the group, swallowed

backtheurgetobesick.‘If…ifIcanspeak…?’TheMajorattemptedtopullhimback.‘MrLlewellyn!You’reacivilian—’Danielshookhishead.Hismindwasmadeup.‘No.Isentoutthisprobe.Istartedit.Itmadecontactwiththesepeople;this

wholething’smyresponsibility.’HepulledhisarmoutofBlake’sgraspandsteppedforward.TheSycoraxLeaderturnedtofacehim.Llewellynhadneverfeltmorefrightenedthanwhenthegreatredeyessought

himout;normoresurethatwhathewasdoingwastherightthing.‘With respect… Sir. I created the probe—theGuinevere One. I wanted to

reachoutinfriendship.Thehumanraceistakingitsfirststeptowardsthestars.Butwe are like children compared to you. Childrenwho need help. Childrenwhoneedcompassion.Ibegofyounow—showthatcompassion.’Justforamoment,therewasahope.Foratinysplitsecond,theentireroom

fellsilent,waiting toseewhatwouldhappen.Llewellynrealisedhisheartwasbeatingincrediblyfast;hecouldfeelthebloodrushinginhisears.Buttomeetan advanced people with reason, with language. It was an encounter he’ddreamed would happen his entire life. And if he could save Sally from thatwindsweptledgefarbelow,now…savethemall…

The Sycorax Leader gazed at Llewellyn. Its pointed tongue hung outside itsmouth.Itsfaceslowlytwistedin,what—respect,understanding?Amusement?It happened so fast: the alien, raised, suddenly, a whip from his side, and

lasheditoutwithasharpelectricalcrackofbluelight.ItfastenedaroundDanielLlewellyn’sneck,burningandtighteningatthesametime.Llewellyn letoutascreamwhichfaded tonothing.Hisbodyshudderedand

then every dream he’d ever had; every plan he had evermade, every thought

he’deverentertained,everystepon thepathof the lifehe’d ledwasnomore.Everycellofhimflewonthewind,asthegoodmanhe’dbeenexplodedintoapileofsmokingbonesscatteringoverthefloor.Immediately theMajor leapt forwardwhileHarriet Jones tried to staycalm,

herbrowneyeslookingatthesituationlevelly;weighingupheroptions.Fixinginhermindthefaceoftheyoungmanwhohadsacrificedhimselfforprinciplesofpeace.MeanwhileMajor Blakewas shouting. ‘Thatmanwas your prisoner! Even

yourspeciesmusthavearticlesofwar,forbidding—’Harrietsawthewhiphandlifting.Therewasaterrible,terriblescentintheair:

ofbloodandburningbonesandeverythingdreadful.Shemoved forwards. She remembered her firstweek as PrimeMinister—a

blurofphotocallsandprotocolandofficialcarsandnewinformation—andthefirsttimeshehaddescendedintotheUNITfacility.Hehadbeensogracious;notcondescending,likemanyofthecivilservantsshehadmet,orpatronising,likethe military generals who assumed she wouldn’t have a clue what she wastalkingabout.Hehad shakenherhand firmly,givena short smile and said, ‘Ibelieveyouhavesomeexperiencein theseareas,andthat’s likely tobeaverygreatasset.’Harriethadfoundherselfunexpectedlygrateful;shehadlikedhimverymuch.Andthegreat,bonyhandwithitslongpointedfingerswaswieldingthewhip

onceagain,andHarrietgaspedaloudinshock;madetostepforwardtostopthiscreaturesomehow.Butitwastoolate.Therewasnotimeeventobeg.ThealienslaughteredtheMajorinfrontofhereyes,andthesmellgotworse

andHarriet could feel the blood ringing in her ears as she thought to herself,‘Thisisit.Thisisit.’Sheforcedherselfforwardandtriedtosteadyhervoice.‘HarrietJones,’she

announced,‘PrimeMinister.’Alex,his voice an exhaustedmonotonenow,had to translate thehowls and

gruntsoftheSycoraxLeader:‘TASSCONAFEETEDROSOO!’‘“Yes,weknowwhoyouare,”’Alexsaid.‘“Surrenderortheywilldie.”’TheLeaderheldhishandovertheredswitchagain.‘IfIdosurrender,’saidHarrietcalmly,‘howwouldthatbebetter?’Thegreatbonypointedhandwasnowalmostontopof theredbuttonashe

replied, and Harriet could barely hear Alex’s translation above the rumblingapprovalofthoseSycoraxwatching.‘“WewillsummontheArmadaandtakeonlyhalfofyourpopulation.Therest

youcankeep.One-halfissoldintoslaveryorone-thirddies.”’Thecreaturesmiledaterriblesmile.

‘SOOCODSYLA.’‘“Yourchoice,”’saidAlex,hisvoiceawhisper.Harriet Jonesclosedhereyes.The leaderof theSycoraxhissed.The restof

thechamberfellsilent.

Jackie Tyler looked around the console room, trying to take it all in. A sofawouldhavebeennice,shethought.Butatleasttheyhadatelly.‘Nochanceyoucanflythis thing?’saidMickeytoRose.Hewasgoodwith

technicalchallenges,butdidn’thaveacluewheretostartwiththis.‘Not anymore,no,’ saidRose.Beingherewithout theDoctor—withouther

Doctor,evenastheyheldanotherman’sbodyintheirarms—wasopeningupahugeemptinessinherheart.TheentireTARDIS,normallysuchalivingentitytoher,suddenlyfeltcoldanddeadasthegrave.‘Well,youdiditbefore,’saidMickey.‘I know.’ Rose glanced away. She knew that looking into the heart of the

TARDISwasout.‘It’ssortofbeen…wipedoutofmyhead,likeit’sforbidden.TryitagainandIthinktheuniverseripsinhalf.’‘Ah,betternot,then.’‘Maybenot.’They carefully placed the Doctor on the floor. Rose realised she’d been

hopingthatassoonastheywalkedin,everythingwouldlightup;cometolife;goback tohow itwas.Buthe remaineda statue;a fallenknight inadressinggown,nowinsidehisunlikelytomb.Mickeylookedaroundhelplessly.‘So,whatdowedo?Justsithere?’Rosewassofrustratedshecouldcry.Allthispower,allthisgloryinthisbox

and absolutely nothing anyone could do, evenwhen everyonewas looking toher.‘That’sasgoodasitgets,’shesaid.Jackietookoutherflask.‘Right.Herewego.Nicecupoftea.’‘Oh,thesolutiontoeverything,’saidRose,ungratefully.‘Now,stopyourmoaning.I’llgettherestofthefood.’ShebustledoutoftheTARDIS,asRoseleanedagainsttheconsole,staringat

theDoctor.Mickeyshookhisheadashepickedupthethermos.‘Tea. Like we’re having a picnic while the world comes to an end. Very

British.Chin-chin.’Rosewasn’tlistening.Mickeyfiddledwiththescannerontheconsole.‘Howdoesthisthingwork?ItpicksupTV,maybewecouldseewhat’sgoing

on out there. Maybe we’ve surrendered?’ He pushed a few random buttons.‘Whatdoyoudotoit?’

‘Idon’tknow…itsortoftunesitself.’Realisinghewasonlytryingtohelp,shetoopressedafewbuttons…

And on thewar deck of the Sycorax spaceship, the Leader felt each press ofthosebuttons—felt theripples in theuniverse—andstaredroundathispeople,hisredfacemorefuriousthanever.‘SOOHEBCLSHVORDALCASYBID!!!!!’The vast roomful of Sycorax started to screech and beat their staves to the

ground.TheLeaderpointedatHarriet,wholookedhelplesslyatAlex.‘The noise, the bleeping, they say it’s machinery. “Foreign machinery.”

They’re accusing us of hiding it. Conspiring.’ He glanced up, his young facehaggardwithfear,astheSycoraxLeadergesturedtooneoftheotheraliens.‘CRELSTATFORAXI!’AlextranslatedforHarriet:‘“Bringitonboard.”’

Jackie Tyler thought shemight as well bring the rest of the bags, which hadChristmasdinnerinthem.Saveitgoingtowaste,shedecided.Theworldwasn’tgoing toend in thenext twenty seconds,was it?No.Theyhad teaand they’dhaveturkeyandinabit,hopefully,thiswouldallbesortedout…Shehadnearlymadeitbacktotheblueboxwhenitdematerialised.Shestared

upwards; but all she could see was the dark vastness of the Sycorax ship,blotting out the sun, and Jackie screamed the name of her only child to thefrozenair.

15

ASpacemanCameTravelling

TheTARDISscannerhadn’tturneditselfon,butitwasbeeping.‘What’sthat?’Mickeylookeduneasy.‘Maybeit’sadistresssignal.’‘Fatlotofgoodthat’sgoingtodo,’saidRose.‘Areyougoingtobethismuchofamiseryallthetime?’‘Yes,’saidRose.Mickeysighedandtriedtolightenthemood.‘Youshouldlookatitfrommy

pointofview,stuckinherewithyourmum’scooking.’Roseglancedaround.‘Whereisshe?’Itstruckhersuddenlythatsheshouldn’t

havelethermotherleave,andshejumpedtoherfeet.‘I’dbettergoandgiveherahand;itmightstartrainingmissilesoutthere.’Mickeysmiled.‘Tellheranythingfromatinisfine.’‘Whydon’tyoutellheryourself?’‘I’mnotthatbrave,’saidMickey.Roselookedatheroldboyfriend,thisdecentmansheknewhadlostsomany

ofhisownhopesanddreams.‘Oh,Idon’tknow,’shesaidsoftly,andopenedthedoor,asMickeysmiledbackather.Then Rose was grabbed around the arm by a huge, horned hand, and

screamed.‘Rose!’Mickeyleaptup,knockingovertheflaskofteaontothegrillebythe

Doctor’shead.Rosewasscreaming,‘GETOFF!GETOFFME!’Without hesitation, Mickey ran after her. Bathed in blood-red light, skin

pricklinginsudden,swampyheat,herealisedthepoliceboxhadmoved.Nowhestoodinthevastchamberofanalienship,surroundedbythemonstershe’dseenontelevision.AndnowRosewasscreamingathim.‘Closethedoor!Closethedoor!’JustintimehewheeledbackandpulledtheTARDISdoorclosed.Rose was struggling in the grip of an alien. Another grabbed Mickey’s

shouldersbeforehecouldtakeasecondstep,astheLeaderscreechedawarcryofglee,andtheonlookerscheeredandstampedtheirfeetintriumph.

InsidetheTARDIStheteabegantodrip,dripdripontotheconsoleroomlights,andthehotlightsstartedtosteam.As the steam rose, theDoctor’smouth opened.He took a deep breath, and

whenhereleasedit,histhinlipssparkledasthegoldenergystreamedfromhismouth.

‘GLASSHEEVEN,’ barked the Sycorax Leader, and the humans were roughlyherdedtogether.Harrietsawherfirst.Rose!Rosewashere!AndifRosewashere…hemustbeheretoo…ReliefcascadedthroughHarrietlikeawaterfallandshewasclosetotearsas

shepulledRoseintoherarmsandhuggedhertight.‘I’vegotyou!I’vegotyou!OhmyLord,youpreciousthing.’Sheheldherclose,whispering,‘Where’stheDoctor?ishewithyou?’‘No,’Rosewhisperedshakily.‘We’reallonourown.’InsideHarriet,thewaterfallfroze,inasecond,tosolidice.TheSycoraxarmyregardedherbalefully.

InsidetheTARDIS,withachingslowness, theverylastof the teafellontothehotlights;theverylastofthesteamcoiledupwards;theverylastdropslingeringovertheDoctor.

TheSycoraxLeaderwasevenmore terrifyingupclose.Hepointed straight atRoseandscreamedather.Alexstumbledforwardtotranslate.‘“Theyellowgirl.Shehasthecleverbluebox.Thereforeshespeaksforyour

planet.”’‘Butshecan’t!!’saidHarrietinanguish.Rosehadn’t takenher eyesoff theLeader.Sheknew therewasnooneelse

whocoulddothis;who’dseenthethingsshe’dseen.Shewasn’t theDoctor.Butshewastheclosest thingtheEarthwasgoingto

get.‘Yeah,Icandothis,’shewhispered.‘Don’tyoudare,’saidMickey.‘Somebody’sgottobetheDoctor.’Harrietgrabbedherarm,terrified.‘They’llkillyou.’‘Neverstoppedhim.’Rose tookmoresteps towards theSycoraxLeader.Therewasexcitement in

theairnow; thewatchinghordesweremutteringexcitedly.Nowshecouldseemoreclearly,Rosenotedjusthowmanytherewere.Sheswallowed.

Well,heregoesnothing.Rose cleared her throat, a tiny sound in the silent amphitheatre. ‘I, um… I

addresstheSycoraxaccordingto…Article15oftheShadowProclamation.’Hervoicewasshaking.‘Icommandyoutoleavethisworldwithalltheauthorityofthe Slitheen Parliament of Raxacoricofallapatorius, and um… the GelthConfederacy…’The Sycorax leader stared at her, fascinated, but Rose continued defiantly.

‘As,uh…sanctioned…bytheMightyJagrafess…and…Oh,theDaleks!Now,leavethisplanetinpeace!Inpeace…’The Leader couldn’t take his eyes off her. There were a few seconds of

stunnedsilence,andthen,slowly,hegruntedandstartedtoshake.Theothersdidthe same.And then it became clear: theywere laughing.The entire citadel ofSycoraxlaughed;roared,hootedlikeanimals.Rose’sheartplunged.Theyknew.Ofcoursetheyknewhowridiculoussheas

wasbeing,howpowerlessshewas.‘SOOGAN,GANPRACTEEL.’LoyalAlexstood,trembling.‘“Youarevery,veryfunny.”’‘SOOGALCHACKCHIFF.’‘“Andnowyouaregoingtodie.”’TheSycoraxLeadertookhiswhipinhishand.Harriet and Mickey lunged forward at the same time. ‘Leave her alone!’

Harrietshouted.‘Don’t touch her!’ Mickey’s voice cracked as he started forward, but like

Harriethehadbeenseizedbythehuge,hideousguards,astheSycoraxLeaderkepthisattentiononRose,circlingher slowly.Shestood likea statue,paleasice.‘SOOTASSGILFANE?’‘“Didyouthinkyouwereclever?”’Alextranslated,dully.‘METSOOVOLSTAPEEN?’‘“Withyourstolenwords?”’‘CODRAFEEPELVASH…’‘“Wehavetravelledinthewastelands…”’‘CODRAFEENONPASSICPELHADARTOCTANEBRENDISSA!’‘“Wecarenothingforyour”—uhm—“tinylegislationofland-boundspecies!”’‘CODRAFEESYCORA!’‘“WeareSycorax.”’‘CODRAFEEGASSACTELDASHFELLIK!’‘“Webestridethedarkness.”’

Mickeywasnotlistening,juststaring,helpless.Desperate.‘Pleasedon’thurtRose.Please…’Buttheleadersteppedcloser;enjoyingeverymomentofRose’sfear;flexing

hiswhip. She took a step backwards; back towards the safety of theTARDISnowdeniedher.Hewenton;inexorablycontinued.Alex’skepthiseyesonthetranslator;evenashehadtobearwitness;wascompelledtospeak.‘CORAFEE PEL SAT COS JISAAAN. ORD STOLTO GAVI

CONASTROFAAA.’‘“Wepractisetheforbiddenarts.ThelostritesofAstrophia.”’‘BECCODRAKONE,SOOFELNASCHAFEEN.’‘“Nexttous,youarebutawailingchild.”’‘IFSOFALFASSYOURPLANETCASTREEKASCHAMPION!’‘“Ifyouarethebestyourplanetcanofferasachampion.”’‘THEN YOUR WORLD WILL BE GUTTED, FEL YOUR PEOPLE

ENSLAVED.’‘“Thenyourworldwillbegutted,andyourpeopleensla—”Holdon.’Alex

wasstaringathisscreenlikeithadjustexploded.‘That’sEnglish.’The humans stared at each other in consternation, all except for Rose, of

course.Roseknew.Shepointedat theSycoraxLeader inbarely containedglee. ‘You’re talking

English!’‘I WOULD NEVER DIRTY MY TONGUE WITH YOUR PRIMITIVE

BILE!’‘But that’s English!’ Rose continued to back, subtly, towards the TARDIS.

‘CanyouhearEnglish?’sheshoutedtotheothers.‘That’sEnglish!’agreedMickeydelighted.Harrietnodded.‘DefinitelyEnglish,’saidAlex.TheSycoraxLeaderwasincensed.‘ISPEAKONLYSYCORAXIC!’‘ButifIcanhearEnglish…’saidRose,steelingherselftodaretospeakaloud

thenewsshecouldbarelybelieve,‘thenit’sbeingtranslated.WhichmeanstheTARDISisworking.Whichmeans…’Andsheturnedaroundslowly,trembling;hardlydaringtohope.Mickey and Harriet turned around too. And suddenly, the TARDIS doors

swung open to reveal a figure—no, not a figure, Rose realised, finally. Notanotherperson;notaman,notasuccubus,oranapparition.Forthefirsttimeshebelieveditinside,heartandsoul.TheDoctor.

TheDoctorwas there, standing in theTARDISdoorway, stillwearing thoseridiculouspyjamas,avast,slightlyunhingedgrinplasteredacrosshisface.‘Didyoumissme?’hesaidloudly.

16

IWonderasIWander

Missedyou?thoughtRose.Rightdowntomybones.Andshegrinnedwithutterdelight, even in the perilous situation theywere in, surrounded by the enemy,fivemilesabovetheEarth.TheDoctorsteppedforward,theTARDISdoorsslammingshutbehindhim.TheSycoraxLeaderimmediatelyroaredinfuryandlashedouthiswhipatthe

Doctorwho,withoutmissingabeat,grabbedtheend.Ithadabsolutelynoeffectonhim.Hetoreitoutoftheleader’shand.‘Careful,’hesaid.‘Youcouldhavesomeone’seyeoutwiththat.’The SycoraxLeader roared oncemore and ran at theDoctorwith his huge

woodenstaff,buttheDoctorgrabbeditandsnappeditoverhiskneelikeitwasamatchstick.‘Youjustcan’tgetthestaff,’hesaid,andRosewinced,asshealwaysdidwhentheDoctortoldoneofhisterriblejokes.‘Now,you…’TheDoctorextendedalongfingerandpointeditominouslyat

theSycoraxLeader.‘Youwait.I’mbusy.’SuchwastheauthorityintheDoctor’svoicethattheSycoraxleaderdidashe

was told. The Sycorax holding the others stepped back too, uncertain, bidingtheirtimeastheDoctorroamedthehugefloorspaceasifperfectlyhappytobethere.Rosestaredathim,amazed.‘Nice place,’ he said. ‘Roomy. Bit dark. Must cost a fortune, heating this

place.’Heapproachedtheothers.‘Mickey!Hello!AndHarriet Jones,MP forFlydaleNorth!Blimey, it’s like

ThisIsYourLife!’HeturnedtoRose,whohadaneyebrowraised.‘Tea!’heproclaimed.‘That’sallIneeded.Agoodcupoftea!Asuperheated

infusion of free radicals and tannin. Just the thing for healing the synapses,whoseideawasthat,acupoftea?’‘Thatwasmymother,’saidRose.‘AndwhycanItasteshampoo?’‘That…wasalsomymother.’

‘Couldbeworse,shecouldbehere.’WithaglanceroundattheSycoraxtobesuretheywerestillbehaving,theDoctorwentuptoherandloweredhisvoice.‘Firstthingsfirst.Now,behonestthistime.HowdoIlook?’‘Um.Different,’saidRose.‘Gooddifferentorbaddifferent?’Rosewas absolutely not going to get into this conversation right now. She

didn’twanttodiscusshowdifferent.Howmuchyounger.Howmuch…‘Just…different,’shesaid.‘AmIginger?’Roseglancedathimtoseeifhewasserious.Heappearedtobe.‘No,you’re

justkindofbrown.’‘Aww,Iwantedtobeginger.I’veneverbeenginger.’Hismoodchangedsuddenly,andhepointedstraightather.‘And you, Rose Tyler, fat lot of good you were, you gave up on me.’ He

stoppedsuddenly.‘Oh,that’srude.IsthatthesortofmanIamnow,amI?Rude.’Heponderedthisalittlefurther.‘Rudeandnotginger.’Harrietinterjected.‘I’msorry,butwhoisthis?’‘I’mtheDoctor.’‘He’stheDoctor,’saidRose,tentatively.‘Heis,he’stheDoctor,’addedMickeywithjustahintofresignation.‘ButwhathappenedtomyDoctor?’saidHarriet,bemused.‘Isitatitlethat’s

justpassedon?’The Doctor walked towards her, right up close to her face. ‘I’m him. I’m

literallyhim.Sameman,newface,well…Neweverything.’Harrietlookedmoreconfusedthanever.‘Butyoucan’tbe.’Hedidn’ttakehiseyesoffher.‘HarrietJones.WeweretrappedinDowning

Street,andtheonethingthatscaredyouwasn’tthealiens…wasn’tthewar…itwasthethoughtofyourmotherbeingonherown.’Harrietblinkedseveraltimes.‘OhmyGod.’‘Didyouwintheelection?’TheDoctorbeamed.Harrietsmiledback,pleased.‘Landslidemajority.’‘Oh, fantast—no.Holdon.Fantas.Fanta.Fantazz.’Hewanderedoff. ‘Can’t

sayitanymore,doesn’tfittheteeth.Ohh,Ilikedthatword,whatamIgoingtosay now? “Brilliant”?Brilliant, brill-ee-ant, briiiiilliant. No.Um. “Excellent”?“Oh, that’s excellent!” Naaa. “Superb!”? “Marvellous!” “Molto bene!” Oh, Idon’tknow.Let’sjustsettlefor“very,verygood”.“That’svery,verygood.Yesthat’sreallyvery,verygood.”Nottakingoff,isit?’

The roar came from behind them. ‘IF IMIGHT INTERRUPT?’ roared theSycoraxLeader.The Doctor spun around. ‘Yes! Sorry! Hello, big fella!’ He could see the

trepidationoftheunknowninthecreature’seyeswasgivingwaytoacold,face-savingrage.‘WHOEXACTLYAREYOU?’‘Well,’saidtheDoctor,grinning.‘That’sthequestion.Niceship,bytheway,

sturdy,goodgravity,kindofrocky—’‘IDEMANDTOKNOWWHOYOUARE!’‘Idon’tknow!’ theDoctor roaredback, andRose lookedathim; recognised

somethingelsebesidesthatdangeroussmile:anger.ThesameangertheDoctoralwaysdeniedheevenfelt.TheDoctorcarriedon.‘See,there’sthething.I’mtheDoctor,butbeyondthat,I…Ijustdon’tknow.

IliterallydonotknowwhoIam.It’salluntested.AmIfunny?AmIsarcastic?’HewinkedatRose.‘Sexy?’Rosebitherlipandgrinnednervously,reallywishinghehadn’tlookedather

whenhe’dsaidthat,buthewasbarrellingonwards.‘Arightoldmisery?Lifeandsoul?Right-handed?Left-handed?Agambler?

Afighter?Acoward?Atraitor?Aliar?Anervouswreck?Imean,judgingbytheevidence,I’vecertainlygotagob.’Suddenly,hecaughtsightof theredswitchontopofthedais.Hisfacelitup.‘AndhowamIgoingtoreactwhenIseethis?Agreatbigthreateningbutton?’Herantowardsit,andRosewasbothreassuredandconcernedtonoticethat

hewaslaughing.‘A Great Big Threatening ButtonWhichMust Not Be Pressed Under Any

Circumstances—am I right? Let me guess, it’s some sort of control matrix?Hmm?Hold on,what’s feeding it?’ TheDoctor bent down and pulled open asmall cupboard beneath the button. Insidewas a tank bubblingwith thick redliquid.‘Andwhat’vewegothere?Blood?’Roseknewhewasgoingtotasteitbeforehedidso.OhGod,howcouldshe

everhavedoubtedhewasthesame,infuriating,unpredictableDoctor.‘Yeah.Definitely. Blood. HumanBlood.A positive. Now I can taste blood

andshampoo.Bleargh.Butifyou’vegotamatrixdippedintothat…’Hemadeafaceasifhefounditdisgusting,whichwas,Rosesupposed,ablessingofsorts,andwipedhisdirtyfingeronhisdressinggown.Thenheslappedhisownhead.‘Ahh!Butthatmeans…bloodcontrol.Bloodcontrol!Oh,Ihaven’tseenbloodcontrolforyears!You’recontrollingalltheApositives!’

Rosewasn’tsure,butshethoughttheSycoraxLeaderlookedslightlydeflated.TheDoctorlookedmoreenergisedthanever.‘Whichleavesuswithagreatbigstinkingproblem.’CosIreallydon’tknow

whoIam.Idon’tknowwhentostop.SoifIseeaGreatBigThreateningButtonWhichShouldNeverEverEVERBePressed…thenIjustwannadothis.’Andbeforeanyonehadthechancetostophim,hebangedhishanddownhard

onthebutton.

17

DingDong!MerrilyonHigh

Everyoneon topof thewalls, allover theworld, tookone step forward.Untiltheywereontheverytipsoftheirfeet,rightontheedge,andthetwo-thirdsoftheworldhelditsbreath,orscreamed,orpanicked;or,likeMatthewNicholson,whohadfinallyfoundalifttotakehimtotheroof,foundhimselfwithhisarmshookedaroundhisfriendDuerteinsuchaprecariouswaythatmeantthatifonefell,theywerebothgoingover.And the A positives raised their feet to take the final, crucial steps—

whereuponthebluewebsoflightblinked—wavered—Anddisappeared.There was a great collective stomp of flesh and leather on concrete as the

zombies awoke and took sudden, staggering steps back from the edge.Duertefell, extremely confused, intoMatthew’s lap, and twowent rollingbackwards,Matthewyellingwithjoy.

At thePowellEstate,Sandrascreamedfor thehundredth timeatherboyfriendJason,‘GETAWAYFROMTHEEDGE!’ItwasnotjustJason,buthalftheestateuptherethatheardher—andtheytook

itasaninstantinstruction;andturnedround,shookthemselves,confused,asiftheydidn’tknowwheretheywere.‘WhatthebloodyhellamIdoinguphere?’grumbledJason.‘HowmuchdidI

havetodrinklastnight?’AttheTowerofLondonablondegirlstaredoverthecity,andblinked.Then

sheturnedaround.Everywhere,peoplewerebeinggreetedbytearfulfriendsandpartners;huggingthem;holdingthem;desperatelypleasedtoseethemagain.Therewasnobodythereforher.She turned around; freezing cold, her mind baffled—why had she been so

convincedallshewantedtodowasstandonaroof?Whathadhappened?Shehadhadspecialisttrainingagainstthiskindofthing,andithadn’tworkedatall.Andthensheglancedupwardsandrealisedimmediately,seeingthehugedark

outlineoftheship,thattheirproblemsweren’tover,notbyalongshot,andshe

headedbackintotheTowertowork.ShewonderedifthatniceWelshblokewasdownstairsandifhemightfancy

anothercupofcoffee…

Upintheship,everyonewasstillstaringinhorroratthebuttontheDoctorhadpressed.‘Youkilledthem!’shoutedAlex.‘Ohshutup!Don’tbesostupid,’ said theDoctor.Thenhestoppedhimself.

‘Blimey,thisrudenessthingisoutofcontrol.Sorry!’HeturnedtotheSycoraxLeader.‘Whatdoyouthink,BigFella?Aretheydead?’TheSycoraxLeader,foronce,seemedthrown.‘We…allowthemtolive.’‘Allow?You’venochoice!’crowedtheDoctor.Heturnedbacktothebaffled

humans.‘Imean,that’sallbloodcontrolis—acheapbitofvoodoo.Scaresthepantsoffyou,butthat’sasfarasitgoes.It’slikehypnosis—youcanhypnotisesomeonetowalklikeachickenorsinglikeElvis,butyoucan’thypnotisethemtodeath.Survivalinstinct’stoostrong.’TheSycoraxLeaderturnedroundandhissed.‘Bloodcontrolwasmerelyone

formofconquest.IcansummontheArmadaandtakethisworldbyforce.’TheDoctorwastoyingwithhimnow.‘Well,yeah,youcould,yeah,youcould

do that, of course you could. But why? Look at these people. These humanbeings. Consider their potential. From the day they arrive on the planet andblinkingstepintothesun.Thereismoretoseethancaneverbeseen.Moretodothan…No,holdon…’Hestaredtothesideforamoment.

‘Sorry,that’sTheLionKing.Butthepointstillstands.Leavethemalone!’‘Orwhat?’saidtheSycoraxLeader.The Doctor glanced around. ‘Or…’ Suddenly, he grabbed a sword straight

from a stone container. He charged down the steps and stood in front of theTARDIS,thenheraisedtheswordhighintotheairlikeawarrior.‘Ichallengeyou!’heshouted.Rose,staringaghast,wasn’tatallexpectingwhatcamenext:ahugeroarof

approval from the Sycorax, which echoed throughout the amphitheatre. TheDoctor,however,wascompletelyunperturbed.‘Oh,nowthat’sstruckachord,’hesaid.‘AmIright—thesanctifiedrulesof

combatstillapply?’TheSycoraxLeaderslowlydescendedthesteps,unsheathinghishugesword.

He was much, much bigger than the Doctor. ‘You stand as this world’schampion?’

TheDoctorthoughtforamoment.‘Thankyou.’HetookoffhisdressinggownandthrewittoRose,whocaughtiteasily.‘Idon’tknowwhoIam—butyoujustsummedmeup.’Heraisedhissword.‘So.Youacceptmychallenge?Orareyoujustakrallakpelledallasheestok?’The audience rose to its feet, howling and chanting. The Leader looked

around.‘Fortheplanet?’hegrowled.TheDoctorgrinnedandnodded.‘Fortheplanet!’Withabloodcurdlingscream,theSycoraxLeaderswunghisbroadsword.TheDoctorblocked theSycoraxLeader’s sword strokewithhisownblade.

Sparksflewasthehuge,heavyoldinstrumentsofwarsungtogether.Theleader launchedhimselfat theDoctor,hisbladeswingingas theDoctor

parried. There was no grace or finesse to the way they fought with thebroadswords; nothing like Rose had seen on films. It was raw, clunking andloud,thehugeweightoftheheavybroadswordsclangingontherawmetalofthespaceship floor. The Doctor lost the first skirmish, driven back towards theTARDISdoors.TheSycoraxwere yelling and screaming as if theywere at a sportsmatch,

whichperhaps theywere; thehumanscowered into themselves,hypnotisedbythefight.Rosethoughtshe’dbehorrified.Butshefoundshewasalsoexcitedasthe Doctor and the Sycorax Leader circled each other, wielding their hugeweaponsinfury.Suddenly theDoctorwasbesting theSycorax leader, bearingdownonhim,

pushinghimbackwithstrokeafterbone-ringingstroke.His teethweregritted.‘Thingis,Istilldon’tknowwhoIam.AmIfighter?AmIaswordsman?AmIan expert? Am I the sort ofmanwho could happily slaughter you, have youthoughtofthat?’HewasontopoftheSycoraxLeadernow.‘WhatifI’makiller?’Inatremendouspush,theSycoraxLeaderhurledhimoff,andfoughtbackin

a flurry of blows; and now it was the Doctor on the back foot, taking apummelling.CRACK!wenttheswordsintheair.‘WhatifI’mnot?’CRACK!andhisarmwasforceddownagain.‘ActuallyIdon’tthinkIam.’KKLAK!

‘Definitelynotakiller,no.Which,ifyouathinkaboutit,isagoodthing.’TheDoctor trippedoverhisownfeet,stumbledoverbackwards.‘Ah.Butnotrightnow…’TheSycoraxLeaderswunghissword.SwiftaslightningtheDoctorrolledout

ofthewayastheblowcamedown,missinghimbyinches.‘Lookout!’Rosecouldn’tstopherselffromscreaming.‘Oh yeah, that helped,’ the Doctor yelled. ‘Wouldn’t have thought of that

otherwise,thanks.’TheSycoraxLeaderhadn’tstoppedpressinghisadvantage,forcingtheDoctor

back once more against the dripping, rocky edge of the amphitheatre. TheDoctorwasobviouslyweakening;his legs lookedready to fold like thoseofanew-bornfawn,andtherewasnowhereelsetorun.Heglancedbehindhimatthewall—andthenhesawit.‘Bitoffreshair?’saidtheDoctor.Andheslammedhisfistonthelargewall

button,whichimmediatelyopeningaslidingdoor—leadingoutintotheopenair,ontothegreat,sprawlingwingofthevastship.Theskywasblazingbluearoundthem;thewindcutlikecheese-wire,theair

thin and freezing. London was plainly visible, far far below, and all of thehumans, and some of the Sycorax, ventured out to watch the fight play out.Therewas, Rose noticedwith alarm, no barrier around the open space at all;nothing to stop them all plummetingmiles to their deaths. She tore her gazeaway from the Doctor long enough to glimpse the familiar landmarks below,then quickly stopped as her stomach twisted. It twisted again as she saw theSycorax Leader still had the upper hand; she started forward but the Doctorimmediatelyheldupanarmtostopher.‘Stayback!’hesnarled.‘Invalidatethechallengeandhewinstheplanet!’The

SycoraxLeaderlandedablowthatnearlyknockedtheswordfromtheDoctor’sgrip.‘Oh,you’rejustnasty.Youknow,I’mnotevenwearingslippers!’TheDoctor ralliedonceagain.The twowarriorswere sodifferent,butboth

werefuriouslywrestlingforcontrol,grimacingatoneanother.Finally,with a bellow, the Sycorax Leader simply shoved theDoctor away

withallhismight.TheDoctorstaggeredback,outofcontrol,fellflatonhisbackattheveryedgeofthespaceship’swing.TheSycoraxLeader raisedhis blade and sliceddownwith horrible force—

cutting straight through the Doctor’s sword arm, severing it at the wrist. TheDoctorwatched in utter disbelief as his hand, the sword still clutched in deadfingers,skitteredoverthesideoftheshipandfelltowardstheEarthbelow.

18

HappyXmas(WarisOver)

TheSycoraxLeaderstartedlaughing.MickeyandAlexhadlookedaway,unabletowatchanylonger.Roseburstintoshockedtears,butcouldn’tturnherbackontheDoctor.TheDoctor stared at the space where his arm had been; the empty sleeve.

‘Youcutmyhandoff!’The Sycorax Leader let out a horrible toothy grin of triumph. ‘Yah!

SYCORAX!’hesnarled,raisinghisswordhigh.Then therewasno soundbut thewindon the floatingplatform.Therewas,

Rosenoticed,noblood.Shehadalwayswondered.Ifhebled.TheDoctorgottohisfeet.Hisface,strangely,wastriumphant.‘Andnow,’hesaid.‘Now,IknowwhatsortofmanIam.’Theothersstaredathim.‘I’m lucky.’Cosquitebychance…I’mstillwithin the first fifteenhoursof

my regeneration cycle. Which means I’ve got just enough residual cellularenergy…todothis…’Andhehelduphisemptysleeve.Andinfrontofeveryone’seyes,aglowing,

golden cloudofmatter, of raw regeneration energy, filled the spacewhere hishandhadbeen.Pink,quiveringfleshquestedoutthroughthesleeveandstartedtoturn,quiteclearly,intoahand.Abrandnewhand,flexing,alive.‘WITCHCRAFT!’shriekedtheSycoraxLeader.‘TimeLord,’theDoctorcorrectedhim.Without wasting a second, Rose grabbed another sword off the nearest

Sycorax.Andforthefirsttimesincehewokeup,shecalledhimbyhisname.‘Doctor!’TheDoctorcaught itbythehiltwithhisbrandnewhandandturnedtoface

her.‘So,I’mstilltheDoctor,then?’Rosegrinned.‘Noargumentsfromme.’TheDoctorsmiledbackbecause,ofcourse,heknewthat therewerealways

goingtobeargumentsfromRoseTyler.

HeturnedbacktotheSycoraxLeader.‘Wanttoknowthebestbit?Thisnewhand…’He put on a cowboy voice, just to see if he could do one,which hecould,justabout.‘It’safightinghand!’And gleefully, brilliantly, he ran hard at the Sycorax Leader and the fight

began once more with a new and incredible energy, the sound of the swordsclanging like an alarm, the Leader now defensive, the Doctor utterlyunstoppable;thrustingthehiltofhisswordintotheLeader’sstomachsothatthecreaturedoubledover,evenasthewatchinghumanswinced.Withone finalmassive swing from theDoctor, theSycoraxLeader’s sword

wentflyingfromhishand,slitheringacrossthewingdecklikearatfleeinglight.TheLeaderfellontohisback,pantingforbreath,dangerouslyclosetotheedgeandthedizzyingdropbeyond.TheDoctor stood over him, breathing heavily.He pointed his sword at the

SycoraxLeader’sthroat.‘Iwin,’hesaidsimply.‘Thenkillme,’saidtheSycoraxLeader,stilldefiant.The Doctor blinked. ‘I’ll spare your life if you’ll take this champion’s

command:leavethisplanetandneverreturn.Whatdoyousay?’‘Yes,’croakedtheSycoraxLeaderimmediately.The Doctor leaned in low; quiet and deadly. ‘Swear on the blood of your

species.’‘Iswear,’saidtheSycorax.Therewas a pause. Then theDoctor straightened up, grinned, and his tone

lightened immediately. ‘Well!Thereweare then!Thanksfor that!Cheers,BigFella!’Andheproddedtheswordintothemetallicground,asifslightlyembarrassed,

andturnedbacktotheothers,leavingtheSycoraxLeaderstandingbehindhim.‘Bravo!’ shouted Harriet Jones, giving him a round of applause, as Rose

rushedforwards,brimmingwithemotion.‘Thatsaysitall,’shesaidinaquietertone.‘Bravo!’‘Yeah, not bad for aman in his jim-jams,’ said theDoctor.Carefully,Rose

helped him back into his dressing gown. It was quite the oddest thing; hisproportionshadchanged.Andyetsomehow,whenyouwereclosetohim,hefeltexactlythesame.‘VeryArthurDent,’ said theDoctor, looking down. ‘Now therewas a nice

man,’whichwouldhavesurprisedArthurtremendouslyifhe’dheardit,seeingas every time they’d met, the Doctor had appeared almost outstandinglyuninterested in killing Vogons, before beating him at Scrabble whilstsimultaneously sharing longboring reminiscenceswithFordaboutwildnightsoutthey’dhadtogetheratcollege.

TheDoctorstuckhisnewhandinhispockettotryitout.‘Hangon,whathavewegothere?’Itemergedholdingasatsuma,andRosegiggledashefurrowedhisbrow.‘Ah, that friend of yourmother’s, he does like his snacks, doesn’t he?But

doesn’t that just sumupChristmas?’He tossed it in theair, andhisnewhandcaught it perfectly. ‘You go through all those presents, and right at the end,tuckedawayatthebottom,there’salwaysonestupidoldsatsuma.Imean,whowantsasatsuma?Whatareyouevergoingtodowithasatsuma?’Suddenly,behindhim,thewoundedSycoraxLeadergottohisfeetandseized

theDoctor’sbroadsword,roaringandchargingtowardstheDoctor,hell-bentononlyonething:hisdestruction.TheDoctordidn’teventurnaround.As theSycoraxLeader raced towardshim,he simply lobbed the satsumaat

the wing switch on the side of the spaceship. Instantly, the flaps dislocateddirectlybeneaththeSycoraxLeader,andhevanished,simplydroppeddownintothinair;plummetingtowardstheEarthmilesbelowwithadyingscream.TheDoctorkeptonwalking.Hestilldidn’tturnaround.Hisvoice,whenhe

spoke,wasgrim.‘Nosecondchances,’hesaidcoldly.‘I’mthatsortofaman.’

19

FollowtheStar

Harriet,Alex,RoseandMickeyfollowedtheDoctorbackintotheamphitheatre,victorious.Thearmywascowedas they linedup in frontof theTARDIS; theDoctorstoodinthemiddleasheaddressedthepeopleoftheSycorax.Hespokeslowlyandclearly,innomoodtobemisunderstood.‘The Sycorax will leave,’ he commanded, ‘leave and never return. By the

ancientritesofcombat,IforbidyoutoscavengeherefortherestofTime.Andwhengoyoubacktothestarsandtellothersofthisplanet…whenyoutellthemof its riches, itspeople, itspotential…Whenyou talkof theEarth, thenmakesurethatyoutellthemthis.’Hisgazeswepttheentireroomandhisvoicegrewlouderstill.‘It.Is.Defended.’

Theengineswhirredclunkilyandastrangenoiselikegearsgrindingcameoutofnowhere,astheTARDISrematerialisedonanemptystreet.‘Wherearewe?’saidRose.Mickey bundled out through the door. ‘We’re just off Bloxom Road—just

round the corner from where we left. Look, no one up on the rooftops.Everythinglooksallright.’Hewassohappyhewaspracticallyjumpingupanddown.‘Wedidit!’TheDoctorheldupahand.‘Waitaminute…waitaminute…’Above themthegreatSycoraxshipstarted to thrum; itsenginesshaking the

ground.Veryslowly,thegreatmassbegantolift;acceleratingaway;leavingtheEarthbehind.Awindsweptoverthem:backdraft.Papersanddustflewaround,butnobodycared;theywerealltoobusycelebrating.‘Goon,myson!Ohyeah!’shoutedMickey.Rosejumpedonhisbackcheerfully.‘Yeah!Don’tcomeback!’“IT.IS.DEFENDED!’quotedMickeyinafairimpressionoftheDoctorthat

made him frown. Rose jumped off him and threw her arms around a rathersurprisedAlex.Meanwhile,theDoctorapproachedHarrietJones.‘MyDoctor,’shesaidproudly.

‘PrimeMinister,’hereplied,andtheyhugged.Harriet’smouthtwitched.‘Absolutelythesameman,’shesaid.Theyturnedtolookupatthesky.‘Aretheremanymoreoutthere?’sheasked.‘Oh,notjustSycorax,’theDoctorreplied.‘Hundredsofspecies.Thousandsof

them. And the human race is drawing attention to itself. Every day you’resendingoutprobesandmessagesandsignals.Thisplanet: it’ssonoisy.You’regetting noticed…more andmore.’He turned to look at her. ‘You’d better getusedtoit.’Harrietlookedaway.‘Rose?’ Jackie camechargingup the street, relief andcrossness fighting for

possessionofherface.‘Rose!Oh,myGod…’‘Mum!’criedRose.‘Oh, talking of trouble,’ the Doctor grinned, but Rose was already in her

mother’sarms.‘Youdidit,Rose!’Jackiemurmured.‘Hedidit,Mum!’shoutedRose.‘He’stheDoctor,andhedidit…andyoudid

ittoo!’Jackie’seyebrowsshotup.‘What?’‘Itwasthetea!Fixedhishead.’‘ThatwasallIneeded:nicecupoftea,’saidtheDoctorsupportively.Jackielookedsuddenlyoverwhelmed.‘Isaidso!’sheexclaimed.‘Andlookathim!’saidRose.She looked at her daughter’s starstruck face, sensing trouble. ‘Is it him,

though?IsitreallytheDoctor?’ThensheclockedHarrietJones.‘OhmyGod!It’sthebleedingPrimeMinister!’TheDoctorsmiled.‘Comehereyou.’Andinawaythat,frankly,madeJackie

doubthisDoctorishcredentialsmore thananythinghe’ddoneyet—hehuggedher.

Meanwhile, Alex beckoned Harriet Jones over to look at his phone. Thetelecomssatelliteswerebackup,itseemed,afterthesonicshockwave.He glanced up at her. ‘It’s a message from Torchwood. They say they’re

ready.’Harrietlookedoveratthefivehappypeople.Shedidn’twanttodothis.But

shewasPrimeMinister.Shehadadutyofcare—aresponsibilitythatwentwellbeyondherownwishes.AstheotherschattedexcitedlyaboutpullingtogetheraChristmasdinner,shetookadeepbreath.‘Tellthemtofire,’shetoldAlex.

Alexlookedatherforonlyamoment,thenspokesoftlyintohisphone.‘Fireatwill.’Andshelookedatthesky,andshelookedatthegroupofhappypeople,and

shestoodherground,andclosedhereyes,andwaitedforwhatsheknewmustcome.Suddenly,abeamoflightshotthroughthesky,emanatingfromsomewherein

Docklands. It joined with another beam of light from a location south of theThames.TheDoctorlookedround,horrified.Thenanotherpointoflightjoinedit,andanother,untilRose,andMickeyand

JackieandAlexwerealltwistingroundtoseewhereitwascomingfrom.AllofthemexceptHarriet,whoknewsovery,verywell.AboveLondonthefivepointsjoinedinthemiddle,formingahuge,intensely

powerfulpulse,whichpunchedupthroughtheatmosphereandburstintospace,wheretheSycoraxshipwasalreadyglidingawayintothevoid.Itslammedintotheship,whichburstapart.From the Earth they could see it: parts of the disintegrating vessel, like a

showerofmeteorsinthesky.Jackiehadahandoverhermouth.‘Whatisthat?’Rosewascrying.‘Whatisit?’HarrietglancedatRosewhowasstaringatherindisbelief.Thenshegathered

hercourageandlookedattheDoctor.‘Ireallyamsosorry,’shesaidtruthfully.Helookedrightather,andthedisappointmentinhisgazewasworsethanthe

anger.‘Thatwasmurder,’hesaidbaldly.Harrietsquaredup.‘Thatwasdefence.Defencethat’sbeenadaptedfromalientechnology.Aship

thatfelltoEarthtenyearsago.’‘Buttheywereleaving.’‘You saw the way their leader broke his word to you moments after he’d

sworn it.Yousaidyourself,Doctor: they’dgoback to the starsand tellothersabout the Earth.’ Harriet gazed up at him with a sudden anger. ‘I’m sorry,Doctor,butyou’renothereallthetime.Youcomeandgo,andsometimespeopledie.Ithappenedtoday:MrLlewellynandtheMajor,theyweremurdered.Theydiedrightinfrontofmewhileyoulaysleeping.Andifyou’renothere,wehavetodefendourselves.’TheDoctor stared at her. ‘Britain’sGoldenAge,’ he said, his tone dripping

withcontempt.‘Itcomeswithaprice,’sheshotback.

They stared at one another for a longmoment. Then the Doctor shook hishead.‘Igavethemthethewrongwarning,’hesaid.‘Ishould’vetoldthemtorun,as

fastastheycan…torunandhidebecausethemonstersarecoming:thehumanrace!’‘ThosearethepeopleIrepresent!’Quiveringinself-righteousanger,Harriet

JonespointedattheDoctor’sfriends.‘Iactedontheirbehalf.’‘ThenIshould’vestoppedyou,’saidtheDoctor.‘Then what does that make you, Doctor?’ she demanded. ‘Another alien

threat?’The Doctor took a step forward at that. ‘Don’t challenge me, Harriet

Jones.’Cos I’m a completely newman. And I don’t need swordfights to beatyou.I’mstronger thanthat. Icouldbringdownyourgovernmentwithasingleword.’Harriet remainedunbowed. ‘You’re themost remarkablemanI’veevermet,

butIdon’tthinkyou’requitecapableofthat.’‘No,you’reright,’saidtheDoctor.‘Notasingleword…’Hecountedouton

hisfingers.‘Justsix.’‘Idon’tthinkso.’‘Sixwords.’‘Stopit!’‘Six,’theDoctorrepeated,walkingaroundher,nottakinghiseyesfromher.Sheheldhisgaze,tryingnottoshowherfear.Shefeltasuddenurgetocough.

But shewouldnotyield.Theybothheldeachother’sgaze, andneitherwouldbackdown.Then, stillkeepinghiseyes fixedonHarriet, theDoctormoved, slowlyand

carefully,towardsAlex.AndHarriet felt scared; scared, because this ruthlessness in him: this really

wasnew.Without taking his eyes from the PrimeMinister, the Doctor motioned for

Alex to take off his earpiece.Thenhe simplywhispered, straight into his ear:‘Don’tyouthinkshelookstired?’Andhewalkedstraightoff,briskly,callingouttotheothers,‘Comeon!We’re

going!’The Doctor, Mickey, Rose and Jackie walked off down the street, leaving

HarrietJonesbehindthem.SherusheduptoAlex.‘Whatdidhesay?Well?Whatdidhetellyou?’Awkwardly,Alexshrugged.‘It…wasnothing,really.’‘Whatdidhesay?’

‘Nothing!Idon’tknow!’Harrietturnedfromhim,harriedandalarmed.‘Doctor!’sheshoutedafterhim.

‘Whatdidyousay?’The Doctor ignored her, and the others followed suit, leaving her alone,

leavingherdesperatelycallingafterhim;shoutingoverandoverthewordsthatcouldchangenothingnow:‘I’msorry.I’msorry!’

20

AllIWantforChristmasIsYou

ThewardrobeintheTARDISisvast.Self-cleaning,entirelycrammedwitheveryconceivable type of outfit formost occasions, fromVyxar System state balls,whichlastedanythinguptofourlunarrotations,toanythingthatmighthelpyououtataRomanschevensong.TheDoctorpickedupasoldier’suniform.Absolutelynot.Helookedaround,

unsure. He needed something to blend in… something he could run in, ifrunningwasrequired,andinhislengthyexperience,runningwasoftenrequired.Something thatwouldsuithim.Ordidhecareabout that?Hewasn’tsure.Hegrabbeda redhussar jacket.No.Butnomoreblack.Whatcolourwashishairagain?Brown,Rosehadsaid.Notginger,but…OK.Brownthen.Heglancedupanddown—andthenhesawaslim-cutbrownpinstripedsuitandsnatcheditfromtherack.He’dneverbeenabletogetintoitbefore.Butmaybenow…Hetriediton.Ohyes.He—quitewrongly—didnotconsiderhimselftobea

vainman,butturningaroundinfrontofthemirror,hecouldn’thelpbutadmiretheeffect.Yes.Thiswoulddefinitelydo.Heranhistongueoverhisstrangenewteethone last time.Thenhesquinted.His reflection lookeda little fuzzy.Thatwasodd.Buthewasgoingtobelatefordinner.

Mickeywascarvingtheturkey—verybadly—andRosewasservingthesproutsastheDoctorwalkedquietlyintothehouse.ThedelightedlookonRose’sfacetoldhimallheneededtoknow.Therelief

this brought was like warm water sluicing through him. The Sycorax hadn’tworriedhimmuch—notforasecond.However, thepossibility thatRoseofallpeople—that Rose, his heart of the TARDIS, might not recognise him, noraccept him… He would never have admitted to himself how close to anunbearablethoughtthatwas.They satdownat the table andhepulleda crackerwithher.She screamed,

absurdly.Hewon,buthandedherthebiggerhalfanyway,becausehelikedtoseehersmile,andshedid.Shepulledoutthepartyhat.‘It’spink!Mum,itshouldbeyours!’

JackiesmiledasRoseputthehatonanyway,laughing.Itwasn’tpink,thoughttheDoctor.Itwasrose.Thenhestoppedhimself.Hefeltmushy.Hedidn’twanttobemushy.Whatwasheevendoing,sittingdownforChristmaslunch?Thiswasn’thim.Thiswasn’thisfamily.Andhedidn’tplayhappyfamilies.Notanymore.Mickeywaswatchingthemboth,hisfestivemoodvanishinginaninstant.The

Doctor,sattherewearinghisnewbody,lookedlikehe’dhadhisfeetunderthetablehereforyears.ThewayRosewaslaughing…Onhispart, theDoctorwatchedRose laughandfelta faintstabofalarm;a

slight realisation that he was out of his depth in some tantalising, difficultfashionhecouldonlysenseandnottrulyunderstand.Rosewastalking,buthecouldn’thearher.ThenhenoticedshewaspointingattheTV.‘Look!It’sHarrietJones!’Theyallturnedtolook,andtheDoctorrealisedthescreenwasfuzzytoo.Aha.

He supposed thiswas payback for the slim-cut suit and luxuriant hair; andhepulledapairofblack-rimmedspectacles fromhispocket, left for just suchanoccasion,andputthemon.Ajournalistwasspeaking.‘PrimeMinister,isittrueyouarenolongerfittobeinpower?’Underneaththeinterview,thecaptionran:AlienInvasion.Butjustbehindthat

scrolled:PMHealthcare—UnfitforDuty?‘No,’ saidHarriet Jones, turning away to cough crossly. ‘Now, canwe talk

aboutotherthings?’TheDoctorwatched,hisgazesteely.‘Irepeatthequestion:Isittruethatyou’reunfitforoffice?’‘Look’saidHarriet,entirelyinaflap.‘Thereisnothingwrongwithmyhealth!

Idon’tknowwherethesestoriesarecomingfrom!Andavoteofnoconfidenceiscompletelyunjustified!’ThephonerangandJackielefttoanswerit.‘Areyougoingtoresign?’badgeredthejournalist.‘On todayof alldays?’Harriet seemedutterly frustrated. ‘I’m fine.Lookat

me.I’mfine.Ilookfine.Ifeelfine.’Jackiecamebackintotheroom.‘It’sBeth,’saidJackie.‘Shesaysgoandlookoutside.’TheDoctortookoffhisglasses.He’dseenmorethanenoughonthetelevision

screen.‘Why?’saidRose.‘Idunno,justgooutsideandlook!Comeon,shift!’

Outside, even though many windows were boarded up, there were peopleeverywhere, laughing and throwing snowballs around as light flakes fell onthem.‘Ohthat’sbeautiful!’saidRose.‘Whatarethey,meteors?’TheDoctor’s eyeswere full of sadness. ‘It’s the spaceship,’ he saidquietly.

‘Breakingupintheatmosphere.Thisisn’tsnow.It’sash.’‘OK,’saidRose.‘Notsobeautiful.’The Doctor looked around. ‘And this is the brand new planet Earth. No

denyingtheexistenceofaliensnow.Everyonesawit…’Rosehadalumpinherthroat.Everythingwasnew.Completelychanged.And

she’dbeenwanting towaituntilafterdinner,after they’denjoyed justabitofChristmas;aftershe’dhadachancetotalktohermother.Butshecouldn’twait.Shecouldn’t.Shehadtoknow.‘Doctor…’Rose stared at the grey ash on the ground so she didn’t have to

watchhisface,incaseitshifted;incasehelookedsorryandregretfulashetoldhersomethingshedidn’twanttohear.‘Whataboutyou?’sheventured,gently.‘Whatareyougoingtodonext?’TheDoctorstiffened.Thatwasn’ta‘we’.Thatwasn’ta‘Whatarewegoingto

donext?’Wasshetryingtolethimdowngently?Wasdinnerafarewell?Ifhe’dknown,he’dhaveskippedthesprouts.Hesighed.Whatelsecouldhesay?‘Well…backtotheTARDIS.Sameoldlife.’His face had changed. His world did not; he couldn’t blame Rose for not

wanting tocontinue.Shemusthave really…shemusthavebeenvery fondofthelastincarnation.Somechangewastoomuch.Shelookedupathim,tentativeandnervous.‘On…onyourown?’Heansweredtooquicklyherealised,evenashewasspeaking.‘Why,don’tyouwanttocome?’Therewasalongpauseaseachtriedtogaugetheother’smood.Rosecould

feelherheartspeedup.Wouldhe?Couldshe?‘Well,yeah,’shesaid,stiffening,preparingforrejection.‘Doyou,though?’saidtheDoctor,waryshewasjustbeingpolite.‘Yeah!’saidRoseagain,moreemphaticallythistime.‘Ijustthought…’cosIchanged…’‘Yeah,Ithought….’cosyouchanged…youmightnotwantmeanymore.’AhugebeamingsmilecrackedacrosstheDoctor’sface.‘Oh,I’dloveyouto

come!’Rose mirrored his expression, filled with glee. ‘Okay!’ she said, and they

beamedateachotherlikeidiots,asiftheyweretheonlypeoplethere—although

theywerenot.Mickeystaredattheground.WatchinganothermanmakeRosehappywastoo

muchforhimtobear.‘You’renevergoingtostay,areyou?’Roselookedathim,notunderstanding;notwantingtounderstand.Shenever

did.‘There’sjustsomuchoutthere,’shesaid.‘Somuchtosee…I’vegotto.’‘Yeah,’saidMickey.Jackieheavedasigh.‘Well,Ireckonyou’remad,thepairofyou.It’slikeyou

golookingfortrouble.’‘Trouble’s just thebits inbetween!’said theDoctor joyfully.Hepointedher

faceuptothestars.‘It’sallwaitingoutthere,Jackie.Everything’sbrandnewtome…’Rose smiled happily watching him. She couldn’t take her eyes off him,

thoughtMickeycrossly.Notforaminute.Andtheotherguy.Thatguyhadbeenold, and a bitweird looking.This one… this onewas young.And handsome.Andshestaredathimlikehewaschocolatecake.TheDoctorwasstilltalking.‘All those planets… creatures and horizons… I haven’t seen them yet!Not

withtheseeyes…anditisgonnabe…fantastic!’Rosegrinned;hesoundedso likehimself.Thenshe lookeddown.Hishand

was held out towards her; just as it had always been; just as she’d dreaded itmightneverbeagain.Thensheremembereditwashisnewhand.‘Thathandofyoursstillgivesmethecreeps,’shesaid,buttheDoctormerely

grinned, andwaggledhis fingers at her, and she took it, of course, as shehadknownshewould,becauseitwastheonlyplaceherhandeverwantedtobe.Shemoved closer as they looked up at the sky.A flare came down, then another,brightercascadeofsparksinthesky.‘Imisshim,’shesaid,quietly.‘SodoI,’saidtheDoctor.Theysmiled,alittlesadly,atoneanother.ThenRoseperkedupagain.‘So,where’rewegoinggofirst?’sheaskedhim.‘Um…thatway.’TheDoctorpointedatatinyspotinthenightsky.‘No,hold

on…thatway,’hesaid,movinghisfingerincrementally.Rosepointedtoo.‘Thatway?’TheDoctorlookedather.‘Doyouthink?’Shenodded,softly.‘Yeah,’shesaid.‘Thatway.’And,oblivioustoanyoneelse,theystaredatoneanother,thenupatthelight

ofthestars.

Epilogue

Jackiewenthome,andturnedupthetellyasloudasitwouldgo,andcalledBev,and put the kettle on and pottered about, making noise, clearing up, doinganythingshecouldtodistractherself,soshedidn’thavetohearthatnoise.Thatdamnednoise.Sometimes,theonlynoiseshelongedfor.Othertimes,likenow,thenoiseshe

dreadedmost.Thegrindingofthegears…

AndMickeydidn’tgohome,butwalkedthecoldstreetsallnight,watchingthefestive revellers, alone, powering on, trying tomake his brain tired enough tosleep;tryingtowearhimselfoutenoughsohecouldstopfeelingsomuch,allthetime.Stopmissingher,everysecondofeveryday.

And fivemiles north, in the Tower of London, Sally Jacobs was back at herdesk; sittingwith thesamemugshe’dused thatmorning; trying to take in theterriblerealityofwhathadhappened.Fourpeoplehadbeenteleportedfromtheoffice.Twohadreturned,andas theothersvocallymourned theirdecentboss,shemournedthemboth.But therewaswork to do;more than ever. For the eye of the universe had

openedandblinkedslowlyintheirdirection.Theyhadallseenit.Theyhadallfeltit.And as the old year turned and a newyear began, theEarthwouldhold its

breath.

Author’sAfterword

A Target book! I have said it before, and it’s true: if you want to become alifelongDoctorWhofan,beingbornintheveryearly1970sisaverygoodplacetostart,becauseitmadeyoumoreorlesssevenyearsoldbythetimeHorrorofFangRockandCityofDeathandallthatawesomestuffcameout.Butofcoursein thosedays,youonlygot tosee themonce(plus theBBCtwoearlyeveningrepeats).SoIgrewupontheTargetnovelisations:alittlelineofdistinctivelyscented,

plastic-linedpaperbacksinPrestwicklibrary.TerranceDickswasmyfavouriteofcourse,butIanMarterwoulddo.Infact,I

think with the limitless Imagination Budget books have, I actually preferredthemtowhenyearslater,IfinallycaughtupwiththeDVDs.Myonlyproblemwashowquicklyyoucouldreadthem:youcouldonlyborrowfourbooksaweekfrommy local library, and therewas absolutely noway you couldmake fourTargetsstretchthatlong.Butohthejoyoffindinganewoneontheshelves.Myabsolutefavouritewas

TheDeadlyAssassin,andImusthavereadandreturnediteight times.Ineverownedone—buyingbookswasforrichpeople—whichiswhywhenpeopletalkaboutclosingdownlibrariesIgetabitfoam-yatthemouth.Ridiculously,backin2005,IwasunsureaboutDavidTennantbecomingthe

new Doctor. I hadn’t seen Casanova, although I remembered his wonderfulperformanceasthebeautifuldamagedchildintheexceptionalTakingOver theAsylum.ButinmyopinionnobodycouldtouchwhatChristopherEcclestonhaddone:

takenwhatwasat thetimeamassiveriskandturnedit intothebiggesthit theBBC had had for years. Chris wasn’t wacky; he was earthy, sincere,mindbogglinglysexy,apropergrown-up,andyoubelievedeverysinglethinghesaid.Socastingaskinny,prettyboyseemedastrangesteptotake,andcoveringuphisScottishaccentsimplybizarre.FortunatelyIwastotallyandutterlywrong,althoughyouhavetowatchquite

alotofhimbeingunconsciousbeforeyougettothis:atrulyfantasticteasebytheproduction team,whoknewexactlywhat treasure theyhadon theirhands.TheChristmasInvasionisanepisodesoinventiveandfunnyandterrificthatitstartedthetraditionofyuletideepisodesthatcontinuestothisday(with,ithastobesaid,occasionallymixedresults).

Theepisode,withitsclever,sinisterbloodcontrol,uglychattymonstersandterrificclimacticbattle,feelslikeanairpunch,awonderful,bravuraintroductionthatimmediatelymakesyourealiseyou’reinsafehands(threeofwhichbelongtothenewDoctor).‘Don’t you think she looks tired?’ has entered the lexicon of people who

haven’t even seen the show. (In a particularly 2017 move, by the way, myHarrietalsohasacough.)Italsohasmyabsolutefavouritetypeofset-up:utternormalitytwistedonitshead.What’smorenormalthaneatingsatsumasatChristmas?Perilshowingupin

yourownlivingroomisalwaysmorefrighteningtomethananalienlandscape(whichiswhyIthinkthescariestnu-WhoepisodebyfarisTurnLeft),evenifitcomesintheguiseofarotatingbandsawChristmastree.Within the year, David would take the show from a hit to a phenomenon.

Friendsofmine(particularly, Inoticed,mums)whohadneverbefore takenaninterestinmypeculiarsidecareersuddenlywantedtodiscussthefinerpointsofSilence in the Library and Blink. The fake regeneration in The Stolen Earthbecameanationalcrisis.Andtheveryclearandcertain,undeniableinevitabilitythatthisDoctorandRosewouldfallmadlyinloveisonthepagefromtheverystart.I have so enjoyed reliving this episodehere.Although the stories thatmark

DoctorWhomovingintoitsSecondImperialPhasedon’treallydate,IdidenjoyMickey still having to ask to plug his modem into the phone line. (What abrillianthackerhewastoo,ondial-up.Wastedworkinginthatgarage,ifyouaskme.)YoucantellRussellTDaviesisn’tanovelist,bytheway,becauseanovelist

wouldnever,evercallacharacterLlewellyn;itisanabsolutetoadofawordtotype.Tryitandyou’llseewhatImean.Fortunately,whatRussellis,isagenius,whichmadetherestofmyjobnot justeasybutanutter joy.Iamstillslightlyoverwhelmedthat thefirstTargetbookIwilleverownwillbeone that Ihavewritten—andIsohopeyou’veenjoyedit.Bestwishes,JennyDecember2017

With grateful thanks toNorah Perkins,CurtisBrown and theDouglasAdamsEstate.Also:RussellTDaviesparticularlyforhispatiencewithmystupidquestions

andforbeingSOFUNNY;SteveCole,AlbertDePetrilloandallatBBCBooks;James Goss; Richard Osman (he knows why);MatthewNicolson and family,andJoUnwin.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced,transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in anyway except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowedunder the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictlypermittedbyapplicablecopyright law.Anyunauthorizeddistributionoruseofthistextmaybeadirectinfringementoftheauthor’sandpublisher’srightsandthoseresponsiblemaybeliableinlawaccordingly.

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