The Story So Far Cataclysm Urban Decay So Long Legend Reality Bomb Once Upon A Memory Three Night Engagement '70s Cutaway The Millennium People I The Millennium People II Cutting The Threads The Convocation Nova Mondas Denouement I: Sacrifice Denouement II: Paradox Denouement III: Gift

Denouement II: Paradox by Niall Turner & Andie J. P. Frankham “I really need to go.” “Yes, well try and hold it in, eh?” The Bloke looked at the Doctor sceptically. Falex pulled at one of his eyebrows with serious intent. The Bloke pushed him gently away. The rescue cruiser dipped into the Ahtrahraze Canyon, easiest route through the Unkolboogan Mountains for an off land vehicle. “A rescue ship with no bog, I just don’t believe it,” repeated the Bloke forlornly. “Yes, well, hand me that,” the Doctor leant past him for the backpack. “Let’s take a quick inventory eh?” They inventoried as the Bloke tried to hold it all in. “One toothbrush, pink. Mine.” The Doctor stowed said item away in a pocket. “Hey!” The Bloke grabbed for the credit chip. “That’s all the cash we’ve got, you know!” “I already bought you some sunglasses. Besides,” the Doctor was looking at Falex, recumbent in the Bloke’s arms, “we’ll need at least four thousand to buy this young chap a stasis bubble.” “Fine, fine,” grumbled the Bloke. Spying a crumpled twenty-narg note at the bottom of the pack, he hastily grabbed it before the Doctor noticed. He stared. “A lava lamp. I thought this thing was heavy. We’ve got a blue lava lamp...” “Capital!” blasted the Doctor. “...with no plug,” finished the Bloke. “Details, details.” The Doctor was peering deeper into the bag. “My cards! Splendid!” He stared. “Ooh, now that could come in very useful.” “What is it?” asked the Bloke. The Doctor was holding something that could best be compared to a translucent bath plug, minus chain. “Venusian Reality Bung,” grinned the Doctor. “Great,” said the Bloke, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “What do I do? Bung it in your mouth in the event of your talking complete rubbish?” The Doctor gave him a reproachful look. “We’ve both been through a lot.” He plucked a stimulant from a passing auto dispenser and sucked thoughtfully. Eyes boggling he drained the foil pack whilst nodding slowly to himself. At the point of going cross-eyed he tossed the pack down a disposal chute and grinned a mad grin. “We two, we happy two, must be up to the challenges ahead.” He stared at the tracker, buzzing away to itself on the seat in between them. “And there will be many.” “Well,” said the Bloke, “to further aid us in our heroic struggle we have one pack of Space Dust, orange, unused.” He tossed it aside. The Doctor surreptitiously slipped it back in one of the Bloke’s pockets. “Disruptor Gun, no charge,” continued the Bloke. “One pair of shades, my travel guide, a Rubik’s cube and…What the hell is this?” “Automatic pineapple,” said the Doctor. “An automatic what?!” “Automatic pineapple,” repeated the Doctor, giving the fruit a fond look. “As opposed to a manual pineapple I suppose?” “Exactly! Yes, I really must remember to take you to Ijulfriid’s Bazaar of the Unusually Pointless.” The Bloke leant back in his seat. Falex dribbled. “Well that is sorted then.” He stared out of the window at the ragged mountains to either side of them. “Bring ’em on! Your Cybermen, your Construct, whoever. We can take ’em all!” “We can?” The Doctor’s eyes were alive with interest. “Well obviously,” said the Bloke. “Who would dare face the power of the automatic bloody pineapple?!” Eventually they arrived at Embarkation Zone Six, major point of departures for Ossobos’s great west settlements. The Bloke lost the Doctor and Falex for a while as the Time Lord went in search of this mysterious ‘stasis bubble’. The Bloke distracted himself in the various shopping arcades and Rec Bars. The bustle of the place, the ceaseless movement was strangely soothing. The events on the monorail had been too much, he still wasn’t able to mentally file them, let alone access and make sense of it all. So many dead. Leaning over the rail of a viewing gallery, he stared down at the movement of the spaceport far below. Merchantmen, pleasure cruisers and the occasional military clipper docked side by side. He wasn’t sure what the Doctor was aiming for, transport wise, but it certainly wasn’t going to be too comfortable if most of their dosh was going on keeping the kid happy. He froze abruptly, feeling simultaneously hot and cold. Two depressingly familiar figures were on the gravramp immediately to his right. Kade and Orestes. Orestes was still in his body armour get-up. Kade had gone to a new sartorial dimension entirely, modelling some sort of backless black gown, peacock stylings resplendent about neck and shoulders. They stepped from the gravramp and glided, yes glided towards him. “Turned out nice again, hasn’t it?” ventured the Bloke. They turned their heads on one side in a symmetrical movement. “The insect,” said Kade, his voice hollow and oddly echoed. “Now look,” began the Bloke. “Shut up,” said Orestes. “Oh very witty,” said the Bloke, fumbling for the Disruptor Gun in the backpack. He found himself pointing the lava lamp at them. “Arse.” To his amazement they glided back a few feet. Ossoban officials were hovering in the background. Kade was frowning. “Weapon type unknown.” “It is an arse,” observed Orestes. “Discharge potential and range unknown,” concluded Kade. He stared at the Bloke, eyes unreadable blackness. “You would not dare use it, insect.” “You come any closer and you’ll find out exactly what my… er, my arse can do!” said the Bloke. “Oh do put it away.” The Doctor was beside him, Falex giggling in delight by his shoulder, floating in mid air, surrounded by a ball of turquoise energy. He looked to Kade and Orestes. “It’s not a weapon and we have no further quarrel with you.” “Nor we you.” Kade was staring at Falex in fascination. “The child. His potential for corruption is quite beautiful.” Orestes stepped forward, brutal and uncompromising. “Forgive my brother, he is something of a philosopher at heart.” “Oh really? And what do you have to say?” asked the Doctor. Orestes grinned, the expression full of ugly cruelty. “I bet you pulled the wings off flies as a kid,” said the Bloke. Orestes ignored him, staring at, through and beyond the Doctor. The Time Lord seemed to shiver. “There are some things in this universe that must be fought,” he sneered. “Things that stand against everything we believe in.” “And you call me the philosopher,” murmured Kade. “I say kill all liberals, do-gooders and bleeding hearts. Crush them to dirt and dust, put them in the ground where they belong.” “Yes, yes, all very interesting,” the Doctor seemed to have regained his composure. “Was there actually something you wanted to say or are you just enjoying the sound of your own bigotry?” “We have no quarrel with you. It was Martura’s call, her mistake. She paid the price.” Here Orestes stared directly at the Bloke. The Bloke stared directly back. “But any further truck with Anotyne and Bartholomew and we take the child.” Orestes gave the floating Falex a long, cold look. “Your spirit is broken already, Doctor, cross us again and we shall have you pleading for insanity.” With that they were gone, gliding slowly away over the concourse. The Bloke leaned back against the railings. “What was all that about?” “Oh, just trying to make a point. I think we dented their self image.” The Doctor tossed him a small remote control. “For the stasis bubble. It’s on automatic at the moment but it might come in useful.” He turned in a circle, inhaling deeply. “Well, time to go.” The merchantman was all angles and crude functionality. For a species so advanced the Arcturan’s technology was curiously low tech thought the Bloke. “Yes, refreshingly primitive isn’t it?” said the Doctor, strapping himself in beside him. “Positively dungeonesque,” said the Bloke. “Not even a viewing port.” An Arcturan life support system glided asthmatically up the central gangway, checking off embarkation chips. The Doctor passed theirs over. “Your credit is good.” The disembodied starfish head swivelled to look at them briefly, its voice a carbonated rasp. Seeming satisfied it moved off again. “I bet there’s no in-flight movie either,” grumbled the Bloke. “Yes, yes, it won’t be long,” said the Doctor. “How long? An hour? A day?” “No time at all,” said the Doctor. “First they seal the passenger compartment for hyperspace...” “Hey!” The Bloke interrupted, staring at the white gas rising from the grated floor. “...then they render us unconscious for the journey,” finished the Doctor. “Great!” The Bloke’s eyes were streaming and there was an acrid smell in his nostrils. Next thing he knew... The Doctor consulted one of the small screens on the central console. He frowned and looked up at Ace. “My suspicions were right, then.” Ace cleared her throat. “The Master is gone?” “Yes. Gone. Erased from existence. There is a faint trace, but the quantum reading is all wrong.” A small, translucent cube fell onto the console, and everything in the room ceased all movement. Including Ace and the central column. The Doctor turned slowly, almost overwhelmed by the sensation of power from the object he held in his hand. The White Guardian was standing on the other side of the console. “Oh, it’s you.” The Doctor looked at him shrewdly, rolled his hat down his arm and back up again, then bowed ironically. “It must be something very important, for you to just drop in like this.” He tossed the key back to the Guardian who caught and pocketed it. “You are correct, Doctor.” The Guardian’s tone was avuncular but dangerously precise. Now he was holding a goblet of some unknown, golden liquid. He proffered it to the Doctor. “I don’t drink,” chided the Doctor. “Well, only when time’s running backwards on the first Tuesday of the month.” “I am not asking you to drink, Doctor, I am asking you to think.” “Oh all right then.” The Doctor took the glass and drained it at a gulp. He hiccoughed and exhaled. Slowly he raised his gaze to meet the Guardian’s. “You’re only just ahead of it.” The Guardian nodded. “I only just reached you in time, yes. Your fifth self bought us some time by breaking the time wave but this reality is diminishing second by second, Doctor.” The Doctor scowled a grin as further seconds failed to pass under the influence of the key. The Guardian stepped closer. “I want you to engineer a meeting. Events must be set back on their true course.” The Doctor pursed his lips. “True course? That’s rather totalitarian isn’t it?” he said, relishing his Rs. “There is no other way!” “Yes, well…” The Doctor smiled. “I’ve heard that one before, too.” He frowned. Was that actually fear he could see in the Guardian’s eyes. “Very well. Give me the coordinates.” ...they were being transferred to a descent shuttle as the merchantman remained in geo-stationary orbit above them. Now there were viewing ports. Which was good. “Magnificent isn’t it?” said the Doctor. “Just a touch,” said the Bloke. Alpha Centauri was huge, a colossus of aquamarines and turquoise, with four sets of gyroscopically crossed rings, brilliant bands of blue silver in a midnight sky. “Oh my god that is big.” “Five times the mass of Jupiter,” said the Doctor. “Largest body in Federation space.” “That is bloody beautiful,” continued the Bloke. He reached for one of the overhead hand rails as the shuttle began it’s descent. Falex hung oblivious in the stasis bubble, happily sleeping. The shuttle abruptly dropped into freefall. The Bloke screamed something unrepeatable, put in mind of another recent sky diving excursion, as his stomach hovered somewhere above his ears. The Doctor laughed out loud as they continued to plummet into the planet’s atmosphere, a look of pure abandonment on his face. Puzzled Alpha Centaurians looked on. “Humanoids,” piped one to another, “A most disagreeably noisy species.” The Bloke continued screaming until his throat was raw and he grew accustomed to their rate of descent. This fear thing was getting ridiculous! They were passing through a thick bank of sapphire cloud and he’d just about regained his composure when they were abruptly underwater and powering downwards at a new angle. The deep thrum of a new propulsion system cut in. The Bloke swallowed, his ears popping. The Doctor clapped him on the back. “Exhilarating isn’t it?” The Bloke inhaled deeply, his legs turning to proverbial jelly. “Consider me exhilarated.” An ovoid vessel skimmed soundlessly past outside, sleek and metallic blue. It dipped and turned towards a great city visible on the seabed. The Bloke had time to take in something of the architecture. They were big on spherical stylings and spires, then the shuttle was inside some sort of vast disembarkation area. Slowly it taxied towards a space in a line of newly arrived ships. A subdued amber lighting filled the craft and a computer voice announced, “AUTOMATIC PRESSURE EQUALISATION IN PROGRESS-ALL OXYGEN TYPES PLEASE DON CIRCLETS NOW-PLEASE DON CIRCLETS NOW.” “Eh?” The Bloke looked round in confusion. The Doctor was locking a small band of silver metal in place around his neck and handed one over. “Oh, right.” The Bloke followed suit. It was lightweight, you hardly noticed it was there. Briefly his pulse raced and he felt nauseous. The Doctor was taking exaggeratedly deep breaths and the Bloke followed suit. He felt even worse. “Oh good grief, no!” The Doctor was looking at him in concern. “Different biology, remember?” “Oh yeah, forgive my mortality,” said the Bloke weakly. He blinked. There was water. Up to his knees and rising. “What the hell?” “Don’t worry, it’s highly oxygenated, tailor able to species-specific requirements. They’re very visitor friendly.” “What about Falex?” “The stasis bubble will take care of him.” A hexapod eye blinked slowly beside them. “You are visitors here. We can show you to the Hall of Registers and Information Dissemination if you require.” The Doctor grinned. “Such a civilised people, you and your Ossoban cousins.” He gestured. “Please - lead on!” The water rose above their heads. “This is surreal,” said the Bloke, watching a trail of silvery bubbles spew from his mouth. He clicked the auto control and the still sleeping Falex glided after them. “Hey! Why aren’t we wet?” “Transatmospheric buffering I should expect,” said the Doctor. “That is correct,” trilled their Alpha Centaurian guide from ahead of them. “Oh of course, should have thought of that really,” said the Bloke. Ace blew another stream of bubbles then proceeded to pop them in delight. Some drifted out of her reach, spiralling upwards in the warm currents of the Great Plaza. “This is wicked, Professor. Are all their cities underwater?” “Yes, yes, wicked,” said the Doctor, looking distracted. “And no, they’re not. Predominantly underwater but not exclusively. The Alpha Centaurians are amphibious. The capital is a floating island three miles above the surface.” He turned quizzically. “The Healers’ are this way I think.” “Right,” Ace followed him through a gently curving archway, still trying to resist the temptation to swim as opposed to just walk through the water. And the not getting wet bit! That was well weird. Cool but weird. Robed Alpha Centaurians glided gently past them and she found herself following the Doctor into a great vaulted chamber, about twice the size of the inside of St Paul’s she reckoned. The Doctor was speaking with an official at a desk. He turned, seeming pleased. “Yes, yes, he’s here.” He gave Ace a sombre look. “This should be interesting.” “Who’s here? This guy we’re here to meet?” “Yes.” The Doctor watched the Alpha Centaurian depart, steepling his fingers and looking thoughtfully upwards. Ace shivered. The water seemed to be growing colder around them. The Doctor was smiling to himself but Ace saw no humour in those blue grey eyes. Suddenly she was afraid. “Professor, what’s happening?” “A rendezvous,” said the Doctor, annoyingly cryptic. “That’s no answer!” “No it isn’t, is it?” The Doctor turned on his heel, umbrella stuck carelessly in his jacket pocket. “Now why do I feel like there’s a storm coming?” Ace stepped closer. “Professor, tell me!” “Somebody,” said the Doctor, slowly and deliberately, “has miscalculated.” The Bloke struggled to keep up with the Doctor. He still wasn’t used to moving through this underwater environment. They had dropped Falex off with a body calling itself the City Elders. The Doctor assured him the boy would be quite safe there. Ahead of him the Doctor was emerging onto an expanse of open plaza. The tracker was buzzing away to itself in his hand, oddly amplified sonar. “So what are we doing now?” asked the Bloke. He really ought to get some sort of financial remuneration for asking all these questions. The Doctor was studying the tracker. “We wait.” He looked at the Bloke with concern. “Something strange is happening.” The Bloke missed a beat. “Really? Whatever gave you that idea?” “No, no, no,” the Doctor waved irritatedly. “Sarcasm, very silly, doesn’t suit you. No, it’s the paradox, it’s moving, coming to us… except…” He sat abruptly on a great round dais of stone. The Bloke joined him. “Except what?” “The reading’s hard to unscramble.” The Doctor looked at him with dawning realisation. “Unless we’re part of it!” “What?!” The man in the green velvet coat stared at, through and beyond them. “Who are you?” he asked again. “I’m Ace and this is the Doctor,” said Ace. He’s quite a looker, she thought. “You were expecting to find this humanoid here?” asked the Alpha Centaurian official. It looked at the three of them, it’s skin rippling a gentle lime green. The Doctor nodded. “A mutual friend told me we’d find him here.” “It is very strange,” continued the official. “We have no record of his arrival on planet. From the tests we have conducted, I fear his memory is impaired.” “Yes, yes, very strange,” the Doctor was steering the man by the arm. “Thank you for all your help.” He was heading for the exit. “You will return him to the healing pools by the fifth segment?” reminded the official. There was an unintelligible reply. Ace shrugged. “Sorry, mate, er, missus… whatever. We’ll have him back on time!” She turned and headed after the Doctor. The man was still babbling in the corridor. “A hundred years is a very long time… I was out of time and now I really think I must be inside time…” His voice had a gentle, lilting quality. “Nothing more than a pawn, very nice,” said the Doctor darkly. “He really must be desperate.” “Professor!” implored Ace. “Who?!” “Professor? No, no I don’t think so… I knew a Doctor once…” The younger man trailed off uncertainly. Ace was feeling seriously disgruntled. “What’s going on, Professor? Last thing I remember is being at that concert in Portland, and then...” “Ace!” The Doctor’s expression was unreadable. “Who yanked your chain?” muttered Ace. The younger man gave her a heart breaking smile. “Chains, yes they’re good for yanking aren’t they?” Ace sighed. “Come on, mate.” Together they followed the Doctor back towards the upper levels. “Is it me or is it getting colder?” asked the Bloke. He passed a hand through the gently undulating waters. The Doctor was staring at the tracker intently. “They’re here.” “They are.” The Bloke jumped. A strangely familiar guy in a cream suit was sitting beside him on the dais. “You have done well, Doctor,” continued the newcomer. “It is getting colder, you know,” said the Bloke, deciding to play the unimpressed card. Another group had appeared on the far side of the plaza. A short man, a girl and… some loony in a bottle green coat who was running helter skelter towards them, arms akimbo. “Pass the absinthe, vicar,” said the Bloke, “The sky just fell on my head.” The manic guy had arrived. “I know you!” He stared at the Doctor then the Bloke. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” Bubbles span in all directions, rainbow hued and dancing. The short man and the girl approached closer. The Doctor got to his feet, greeting the short man’s sad eyes with an equally sad smile. Almost imperceptibly the newcomer shook his head. “Fitz! That’s your name! Fitz!” The manic guy was stamping a foot in delight. “It fits! It all fits!” “Well that’s great,” said the Bloke. “Anyone want an ice cream?” “This is wrong! You shouldn’t be here!” The Bloke saw the Doctor backing away, the tracker falling out of his hand, to float off unnoticed. White suit was on his feet as well. “You’ve done well, Doctors...” “Doctors?” The young girl looked up with renewed interest. “...Paradox upon paradox. I shall force the universe back upon its true course.” The little man stepped forward and the Bloke felt himself physically recoil at the sense of power he got from him. “You’ve never been more wrong, Guardian,” he said acidly. “There are no absolutes anymore. Our time is gone.” “Doctor?” The girl was looking scared. Defiant but definitely scared. The Bloke stared. “The Doctor? He’s the Doctor?!” Something else fell into place. He began to back away from them, eyes on the young guy. “What is this? A bloody convention?” “No, no, I don’t think so,” said the young man seriously. Without warning, a tracery of purple light cut through the water around them. Component molecules arced and split, fizzing and crackling across the plaza. Several Alpha Centaurians winked out of existence. The Bloke instinctively ducked. “What have you done? What have you done?!” The Doctor, his Doctor, was approaching the guy in the white suit. All the while the tracery of light curled and grew stronger around them. “You can’t put the pieces back together!” The Doctor was white faced. “I should have realised on Ossobos!” “Doctor, there is no time for this.” The white haired old man drew a cube from his jacket pocket that proceeded to vanish soundlessly. The light show grew stronger still. From the look on the old guy’s face the Bloke didn’t think he’d expected that to happen. “No,” said a new, cold voice from above them. “There is no time at all.” Time warped around the rather large planet Alpha Centauri, as the old universe fought with the new. Ultimately only one could survive. The outcome was uncertain, but the paradox was not. And across the gulf of time and space, through the miniscule threads that bound one reality to another, they came en masse. They all looked up at the figure floating in the water above them. It was humanoid in form, with white lightning crackling all around it. The figure appeared to be naked, although there were no signs of gender anywhere to be seen. Nor hair. The figured pointed a big finger at the Bloke, and a voice boomed out like a canon. “I see you have found your own level in this universe.” The Bloke was puzzled, but for mere moments only. He recognised that voice. And more importantly, he recognised the essence within that body. “What are you implying, you cheeky bugger?” The Doctor looked at the Bloke, his face still a mask of puzzlement. “You know this being?” The Bloke laughed. “Course I do. It’s the Faceless One.” The Doctor nodded in understanding. “Ah.” He looked up at the newly transfigured Faceless One. “My, but you’ve changed. What happened?” “Questions later,” the Faceless One boomed. “Time is up.” He turned his attention to the Guardian and his guests. “You are obsolete in the new order of things.” With a wave of a big hand, the Faceless One sent a stream of energy down at the White Guardian. The water parted around the Guardian, leaving a gaping hole of dryness akin to when Moses parted the sea of reeds. The old man stood back and raised a hand. “No!” he yelled. “This is all wrong. There must be order, and this universe is not it!” The stream of energy engulfed the Guardian. The Faceless One blinked his white eyes. “Yes it is. Your style of order has passed away. Begone!” Once again he waved a giant hand. The White Guardian fought inside the ball of energy, but to no avail. The ball imploded sending the Guardian into nothingness. The results were unexpected. All around them water erupted into activity, washing them all over the plaza. The Doctor and the Bloke reached for the stone edifice on top of the dais, while the other three found themselves elsewhere. The small Doctor in the hat was forced into a nearby stall and the girl quickly followed. The small Doctor started hitting her with his hat, trying to get her arm out of the way so that he could see what was going on. The Doctor in the velvet coat was washed upwards, to be rammed into the glass dome that served as the ceiling of the plaza. Against the raging torrent the Faceless One waded his crackling way over the velvet coated Doctor. “You really shouldn’t be here... your time is up, too.” The Faceless One reached out a large hand and the lightning transferred itself over to the Doctor. Below, the Doctor and the Bloke watched in horrified fascination. Unable to do anything as the future Doctor slowly faded into nothingness. He looked down at them, as holes appeared in him. His eyes betrayed the serenity of his face. The fear was palpable. The Doctor closed his eyes and looked away, the Bloke did not. But the Bloke did notice the small Doctor watching the scene above. That Doctor’s face was set into an intense scowl. There was anger there, and the Bloke knew where it was directed. “Stop!” the Bloke found himself yelling at the Faceless One. Once the velvet coated Doctor was no more the Faceless One floated down to the Bloke. “Stop? Are you insane?” He waited for an answer. The Bloke thought madly. There had to be something that would convince his old friend. “Yes, stop. You can’t go around erasing people from existence. We are Millennium People; we do not do that. Hang on... how can you do that, anyway?” “Poor you. You have no idea what has been happening since you have been travelling with him, have you?” The Faceless One placed a hand on the Bloke’s head. “Go and find out. Go home.” The Bloke vanished. The Doctor, who by this time had his eyes open again, blinked. “What have you done? He was not a paradox. And just why are you destroying paradoxes?” “You have no idea, Doctor? Come; use you intelligence, man.” The Faceless One turned away. “Now, you two. Come on, my little pretties!” He opened his hands out and the small Doctor and Ace found themselves being propelled towards him. “Embrace your destiny, Doctor!” Lightning danced away from the Faceless One and attacked the Doctor and Ace. It made short work of the Doctor, eating him from within. Working its way into his mouth and eyes. Ace was held aloft by the lightning, forced to watch as the Doctor was killed. “Professor!” she yelled, unable to hold back the tears of anger. “Doctor!” And then it was over. The water calmed and a deeply distraught Ace floated softly to the floor of the plaza. She feel to her knees, sobbing in pain and grief. The Doctor remained sitting on the dais, watching, not daring himself to speak. The Faceless One turned to the big Time Lord. “Ah, a touch of grey for you, then, Doctor?” He pointed at a nearby reflective surface and the Doctor followed his action. The Doctor frowned and ran a hand through his now grey hair and beard. “Sorry, Doctor. But it had to be done...” The Faceless One turned away. “We all have our roles to play,” he continued, his voice changing. He looked back. “As do you, Doc.” The Doctor pushed himself back up against the stone edifice. The body before him had not changed, but the face had. Bald it may have been, but there was no mistaking the voice nor the face it belonged to. “Brad,” the Doctor breathed...