Author's Notes:

Part 9 in the Twelfth Doctor Adventures series, featuring Charlie Drake, following on from Nightmares.

The story so far…

Charlie Drake has been travelling through time and space in the TARDIS with the Doctor. Their fantastic adventures seemed too incredible to be real, and when Charlie wakes up in the Nethersphere, he soon realises that could well have been the case. Was the Doctor merely a figment of his imagination? And what does the renegade Time Lady, Missy, have in store for Charlie Drake in the afterlife?

WARNINGS: Much of this story takes place in the Nethersphere, Missy's 'afterlife' for humanity. As such, there could be some mentions of death.

What happens after you die is a mystery. It's a mystery that both fascinates and terrifies people.

It's terrifying because we don't know. We don't know if we cease to exist or if we end up somewhere else – be it heaven or hell.

Of course, it does depend on what you consider 'you' to be. A soul? Your walking, talking body, driven by a brain and electrical signals? Memory, the sum of everything you ever recall happening?

If the answer is 'memory', as is sometimes conjectured, it may be possible to exist beyond death.

If everything a person can remember is remembered after death, that person may live. They may still be conscious, long after their body has turned to dust.

With the right technology, this is possible. It's far beyond present human capabilities, but other species have this knowledge.

The Time Lords have been doing this for aeons. They upload the minds of dying Gallifreyans to a hard drive, where their knowledge may be stored for the rest of time.

It has given them the power to bring the minds of the greatest Time Lords who ever existed back into reality.

It has given them the power to resurrect the dead.

Few species know of their ability to do this, and a Time Lord would never use that power.

Unless that Time Lord happens to be a renegade of Gallifrey. Someone who has rejected the rules and the bureaucracy of the Time Lords. And even then, only if that Time Lord was mad enough to try.

"We wish to speak to the Gatekeeper," the three spoke with one voice; a strained rasp produced by decaying lungs.

"Is that the Keymaster?" the woman responded.

She snapped her fingers, bringing the world into existence: a computer generated reality of an endless, sterile white corridor.

Her eyes were ablaze with a keen intelligence, excitement, possibly curiosity.

"We are the Servants of Chaos," the three aliens responded.

The things were deformed creatures. Aliens composed of stale, rotten flesh, oozing a viscous grey liquid from every pore.

It was as though they were corpses of undistinguishable alien creatures. Not creatures which had died or were dying, but creatures which had always existed this way, in a half-life of eternal disease.

"Servants of Chaos, hmm? Catchy name…" the woman mused, in a way which might be described as 'flirtatiously'.

"Why are you here?" Her chin rose sharply, nostrils flaring. It was a calculated gesture of a predator acknowledging the presence of another.

That little gesture of flirtation was a conscious flirtation with death.

"We are here for memories."

"Well, you're clearly not here for the view. There isn't one."

"We are correct in assuming you are the Time Lord known as 'the Master'?" the creatures uttered.

"Oh, please," the woman simpered, "call me Missy."

With a smirk, Missy turned her back on the monstrosities, and gestured at the featureless white doors around her.

"Who do you want?"

Her head snapped back to the monsters, lightning –fast.

"I am correct in assuming you are here for the memories of a particular… human? No questions asked?"

"We are here for the memories of Charlie Drake."

Missy glared at the aliens for a moment.

Her stern headmistress tone was twisted into a manic sing-song voice. That edge of malice remained under the disarming timbre:

"You may have to be a tad more specific. The Nethersphere contains the minds of every human who has ever died throughout history. I mean, is that a boy's name, a girl's name? Or one of those adorable in-betweeny ones?"

The alien standing in the middle of the three stepped forwards. Its shredded flesh and oozing fluids, strung between the trio, stretched and warped as it moved.

Two feelers extended from its chest; the tiny limbs raised a holographic image of a seventeen year old Charlie, sporting an untidy mop of brown hair, and tired hazel eyes.

Missy scrutinised the image for a moment, before pulling out a device, the size of a smartphone, from the folds of her extravagant purple garments. She dabbed at the device's screen, humming a little tune to herself.

"Nope," Missy suddenly exclaimed, "No Charlie Drake."

"Explain!" the creatures gestured towards her, feelers grappling at the air with venomous ferocity.

"Explain, explain!" she mocked the creatures, "Just give me a minute, and I will."

Missy composed herself, checking her eyeliner in the reflection on her device.

"There are a couple of thousand humans with that name. But not the one you're looking for. I told you the Nethersphere contains the collective memories of every human who has ever died throughout history. Now, I see a couple of things that might have happened here. One, this human doesn't die. Or two, your Charlie Drake wasn't human."

The creatures seemed to broil with anger; the skin stretching between their bodies literally bubbling.

"You will help us acquire these memories. There is no other way to achieve our goals. We do not have the technology to extract him ourselves. The Testimony has refused to help us."

"Oh, that old cow…" Missy groaned under her breath, her eyes rolling so hard, her vivid irises vanished from view.

"If you do not assist us, we will destroy you."

Missy threw the creatures a contemptuous smile. "I'm very well aware of that. I can see that it would be… unwise of me to cross a creature like yourselves."

She curtseyed in a regal manner. It reminded her of the old days, when deals were made with daemons. They always required a little… tact.

"I do have a teeny-weeny idea that might be of use to you."

A wicked smile crept across her lips.

Yes, she could have some fun with this.