Welcome to the first, and almost certainly the last, Doctor Who/The Big Bang Theory/Baby Daddy crossover. The key thing to point out is that this is first and foremost a Doctor Who story. It is structured like a Doctor Who story, in two parts resembling a two episode adventure, that would be as long as the four episodes in the classic series. The struggle the Doctor and his friends fight against the Mara are the core of the story, and the characters of the other two shows are clearly subordinate to it. The Doctor Who characters have their "real" names, while the characters from the other two series, not all of whom appear in this story, have their names changed. Moreover they appear a quarter-century before the series they take place in. There's a reason for that and fans of at least one of the series are going to regret finding the answer. Most important, this story is not only part of a larger Doctor Who continuity which exists at this moment entirely in my head, but it introduces a villain who is intended to be the Doctor's final and most deadly nemesis, the one who finally kills him in the final episode. Spoiler alert, or to be more precise, non-spoiler alert, that villain isn't actually revealed in this episode, although I can say that villain's existence has been implied from the very beginning of the show.
Sunday, July 16, 1939
It was the last summer of peace that Paris would see for a long time, arguably for a quarter century if one counts the colonial wars that France would fight after the death of Hitler. It was not the good Sunday many Parisians would have wished for in retrospect. Already clouds were forming over the city, which would culminate in fierce thunderstorms that evening. Nor was the atmosphere especially pleasant around one particular cafe in Montparnasse. When not thinking of the threat of war, many of the university students, aspiring painters and would be novelists were concerned about the threat of a Fascist coup or, more rarely, and understandably so, of a Communist revolution. The tourists were not happy with the weather, and the local population was hardly optimistic about the lethargic economy after the Depression that had hit France with severe, if slightly delayed force. The staff at this one cafe worried about their apartments' rent, their inadequate plumbing, as well as whether they would have jobs when the tourist season ended. (They would, as soldiers.) The one thing that brightened their overcast day was that the trio of English tourists they were serving, notwithstanding the very thick Scots accent of the tallest and oldest of them, spoke impeccable French.
As it happened, that man was not really a man at all, and in fact had infinitely less in common with Scottish people than the waiters, or any other Frenchmen and women. He was, of course, the Doctor, known as the twelfth Doctor to exactly no one alive, since there were at least thirteen, arguably fourteen incarnations in his past and most other people's futures. After what appeared to be decades but was actually centuries of fairly distinct costumes, the Doctor was wearing a jacket, a dark shirt and slacks that was not that different from the Bohemians in the district. He was convivial today, apparently the charming and witty self that existed in nearly all of his incarnations. But his first companion couldn't help but notice his subtle but constant looks at the clock on his far left hand side. She was Clara Oswald, and she was tastefully dressed in a pleasant skirt regardless of whether it was 1939 or the three quarters of a century later when she had actually got her clothes. She was pretty, brunette, clever, thoughtful and had died the first two times the Doctor had met her. In their many adventures together, she had seen him die, only to be reborn into his present form, not to mention apparently die only to be rescued by a Bootstrap paradox. Notwithstanding an attempt on her part to destroy the keys to the TARDIS to rescue her dead boyfriend, the two had developed a close relationship based on mutual respect.
That was definitely not the case with the third member of the trio. Adam Mitchell had the dubious honor of being the one companion, out of the dozens the Doctor had known, whom the Doctor had the least respect for. To be precise, the Doctor respected all the other companions and viewed Adam with contempt. This was a bit unfair, because unknown to the Doctor, one of those companions had betrayed him, and worse. Certainly, the Doctor had good reason to be annoyed with Mitchell. An earlier incarnation had invited him along after encountering what only appeared to be the last Dalek in the universe. Going hundreds of thousands of years to the Earth in the future Mitchell has succumbed to the temptation to use the advanced technology of the time for his own selfish interest. This involved implanting an ultra-advanced computer into his head, which would appear at the click of one's fingers. It also involved putting the Doctor in mortal danger from the evil alien who controlled Earth in the far future. As a punishment, the Doctor immediately returned him to London, telling Adam that he didn't deserve his friendship. Three incarnations and centuries later for the Doctor, he and Clara were spending one pleasant Tuesday in London when they were attacked by alien assassins. This was more disconcerting than usual, since the 12th Doctor had kept a low profile. He had found it useful for people to believe that his previous incarnation had been the one who actually died, so it was odd that enemies knew he was even alive. Very quickly the assassins had put a force field around the TARDIS, as well as putting taps on all forms of electronic communication in London. Only an incredibly advanced computer system could save Clara and the Doctor. The Doctor immediately dashed to Adam's home, where only two weeks had passed for him, explained to him the situation and by a combination of flattery and tendentious rationalization, shanghaied him into helping them against the assassins. Adam, or more accurately the computer inside his head, was essential to the victory, which ended 50,000 years in the future and 3,000 light years away, and the assassins all committing suicide. The Doctor had traced them to the comparatively minor villain who had hired them for revenge, and all the issues seemed settled.
The Doctor did not believe that for a moment, and Adam's complacency on this point only increased his contempt for him. He wanted to take him back to London and drop him off, but it was convenient to have an incredibly advanced computer on hand. True, clicking his fingers and then using his sonic screwdriver to activate the computer gave Adam a headache, and it was difficult to pretend to respect him. Certainly he did not respect Adam's use of Twitter, which Adam was explaining while scarfing down madeleines.
"Twitter must be the stupidest idea ever. Why would you create a communication system that has no more 140 characters?"
"You could argue that it encourages precision and concision."
"No, it doesn't. It just only allows short simple-minded ideas and brief insults."
"Look, they've got this new 'heart' character."
"Oh wonderful. Now we can communicate like pre-pubescent teenagers. Anyway, you can't communicate with Twitter because nobody has it in 1939."
"You adjusted Clara's cell phone allowing her to communicate across time."
"Clara, you may have forgotten, is considerably more responsible than you, and is certainly not likely to radically alter world history by trying to use advanced technology for her narrow-minded interest."
"I said I was sorry."
"Yes, and you can show your contrition by not rushing out and playing with the next highly advanced technology."
Adam gave up and got up to look at some pastries near the cashier. "We're waiting for someone, aren't we?" asked Clara.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well you've watching the clock behind me very subtly and very intently. Is it someone who actually lives in this era?'
"Don't assume too..." but then the Doctor abruptly stopped.
"Doctor?"
"Listen. Listen very carefully." And at first Clara heard nothing outside the normal sounds of the late thirties Parisian Sunday. But she heard in the background something low and foreboding. "Is that the Cloister Bell?"
The Doctor abruptly got up. "We've got to to go, now." He quickly deposited several thousands francs on the table and called Adam to leave. He and Clara raced through the exit. Then a few seconds the Doctor raced back, abruptly grabbed Adam who was still deciding what pastry to buy, and quickly dragged him to the TARDIS. Which then dematerialized.
Inside the Doctor shouted instructions to Clara to make the TARDIS go faster while the Cloister Bell tolled louder and louder. Adam was confused. "I don't understand. This is a time machine and can arrive at any second. Why do we have to go fast at at all?" A sudden jerk forward sent Adam sprawling to the floor. "We can't afford to lose a single second!" the Doctor shouted.
"Where are we going" asked Clara?
"To the great metropolis of the Tachocopoti. Try imagining a cross between alligators and octopi. It has 80 million people there."
Tachocopoti 4 April 27, 10036
The TARDIS landed and the three got out. All they saw was an enormous expanse of sand under a blood-red sky. There was a slight breeze, but little sound: certainly the only living things making a noise were the Doctor and his companions.
"Just how large are the Tachocopoti?" asked Adam.
"They're slightly larger than the average human."
"And you're sure this is the right place?"
"Very much so."
"It just seems like a big pile of sand."
"What else?"
"Well now that you mention it, the sand's kind of warm." noted Clara.
"Notice anything odd about that?"
"Hmm. Now that you mention it, the sand seems to be warmer than the surrounding air. But there isn't anything nearby that resembles a volcano."
"Adam and Clara, have you ever heard about plane crashes? In particular about something that survives plane crashes."
"Oh, you mean like a doll that survived unscathed?" asked Adam.
"Yes exactly. Now the Tachocopoti don't have dolls. But they do have a number of toys for their young. The Tachocopoti are also colour-blind, so the toys are not visually impressive. But they do have a wheel, with symbols on it, that helps teaches children to count. It's also linked to another wheel that makes amusing sounds."
Clara noticed something in the sand and pulled out an object that looked exactly like the toy the Doctor had described. "You mean like this."
"Precisely. The Tachocopoti also have something analogous to a wedding ring. It's made of silver and a special compound which means that it can survive all sort of horrific damage. It's about the size of an orange, and it consists of silver spokes radiating from a centre." The Doctor turned to Adam who was holding precisely such an object in his hand.
"Oh my God," and he dropped it.
"This isn't sand we're walking in." Clara realized.
"No. This is the great metropolis of the Tachocopoti. 80 million souls and almost everything they had turned into dust."
"So the city was destroyed by a weapon?" Adam wondered.
"No. A weapon would leave radiation. And radiation can kill me. Indeed it has twice. It would also kill Clara of course."
"Not to mention me."
"Yes, that's not important right now. Someone destroyed this city. And destroyed it out of pure power."
"But why didn't we reach it before that happened?"
"Because you delayed us for a few seconds. And that made all the difference."
Clara then grasped something, and the realization slowly horrified her. "The Cloister bell is still being rung."
"Of course it is. Whoever did this hasn't stopped."
Thursday January 14, 1988
It was not a particularly cold evening in Manhattan as Simon Kostelanetz walked through the slush to meet his friends. He was shorter than average, and his winter coat hid his mildly disconcerting taste in bad sweaters. Despite the many unsatisfactory hair styles of the eighties and the decades to follow, his bowl haircut always looked unimpressive regardless of the time period. Despite being separated by a quarter century and an entire continent, several physicists of Caltech at Pasadena would have been startled by his resemblance to their colleague Howard Wolowitz. Indeed, not only was the physical resemblance stunning, but so was every aspect of their characters. They were both brilliant scientists, both fascinated by science fiction and comic books, both had overbearing mothers, and both tried to hide their awkwardness with women with a bluff confidence that was as unsuccessful as it was unattractive. There was no shortage of other similarities, especially about their many minor vices. Howard's friends would have thought Simon was his very doppelganger. That doppelgangers were supposed to die if they ever saw each other would have disconcerted them, as would many other bits of doppelganger trivia that their friend Dr. Sheldon Cooper would have been very happy to regale them with, with anecdotes as obscure as they were horrifying.
The one salient difference between Kostelanetz and Wolowitz was that whereas the latter was "only" an engineer with "only" a master's from MIT, Kostelanetz had a doctorate in theoretical physics and had just that fall started working at Columbia. As he approached the bar that was his destination he noticed a nun walking towards him in her habit. Ordinarily Kostelanetz would have noticed she was actually fairly attractive and would have stared at her, as was his wont, for too many seconds. Had he gave it more thought he might have thought that it was too cold to be only wearing a habit. But as it happened Kostelanetz had a distinct dislike for nuns, clearly derived from his Jewish background, and quickly looked away from her as he entered the bar.
"Simon! Over here!" Daniel O'Malley waved to Kostelanetz beckoning him to his table, nearest to the actual bar, where three young women were already sitting. The friendship between the very tall hockey player (nearly six and a half feet) for the New York Rangers and the socially awkward physicist was an unexpected one and was originally based on self-interest. Danny needed to pass high school Math and at least two sciences, while Simon needed to survive high school. And although his tutoring of Danny was for Simon an often deeply frustrating experience, in the end it was not only ultimately successful, but actually formed the basis of a genuine friendship. Danny found Simon's enthusiasm for science fiction and comic books genuinely if only moderately infectious. Simon found that Danny was a sincerely nice person, kind, loyal, often sweet and actually considerate and decent to the many women who wanted to sleep with him. Not only that, but Simon learned Danny's secret crush on his other close friend. "Simon, you remember Riley, don't you." (Simon did indeed remember the thin blonde from high school, when she had been considerably fatter.) "She and her two friends came over to help celebrate my brother's big day." Danny pointed to a black woman on his right. "This is Tara Dobbs." And this," pointing to a shorter, more voluptuous blonde, is "Ronnie...Notorotwist? Narutorotor? Naturewhiz?"
"Narutowicz," said the young woman, who showed a tact about the mangling of her surname that many of her fellow Polish-Americans would not have shared. "I think you'd like her Simon. I told her that you teach physics..." Simon eagerly offered his hand to the young woman, "...and she believes the New Age movement has many interesting insights into physics." Simon's enthusiasm for the young woman visibly collapsed by the time he clasped her hand. If the similarity between Simon Kostelanetz and Howard Wolowitz was obvious to anyone who knew the two, only Sheldon Cooper would have thought that Veronica ("Ronnie" to all her friends) Narutowicz and Bernadette Rostenkowski were the same person. And yet a closer inspection would have realized their alarming identity. It wasn't just that both were near-sighted intelligent short blond girls who were the eldest child of their Polish working class families that Republicans flattered by calling middle class. They were alarmingly alike in every respect notwithstanding the two decades or so who separated them right up until the very moment that a nun at their parochial schools told them they were too short and uncharismatic to be cheerleaders. But whereas Bernadette's nun helpfully suggested that she use her aptitude in biology to try to be a scientist, Ronnie's nun just turned around and ignored her. Ronnie responded with an energetic program of self-transformation. She started by dying her hair slightly more blond, replaced her eyeglasses with contacts, and took speech lessons to get the squeak out of her voice. Since she couldn't actually grow taller, she undertook a clever campaign of stilettos and padded shoes on the one hand, and careful entanglements around chairs to increase her height. Tempted to get breast implants, Ronnie realized that they were both risky and unnecessary. A careful use of push-up bras on the one hand, and more subtle uses of cleavages could show her charms without making her appear obvious.
She had eventually gotten on the cheerleading team by realizing that if she wasn't necessarily tall, stunningly beautiful or blatantly sexual, she could still read up on choreography and offer useful assistance on that score. She had no trouble if men underestimated her intelligence, and once she entered university she took a careful tack on how to advance her interests while not appearing to do so. The New Age Movement offered a way into many students interests without actually taking a strong opinion that might be unpopular. It made her look spiritual while distracting attention from the fact she took business courses. It also offered a more open attitude towards sexuality that her original Catholicism. She chose her friends with the same careful calculation. She would be loyal, considerate and kind to women who would never actually compete with something she actually wanted (which at this stage of her life was mostly sex). She chose Tara Tucker Dobbs because she was perceptive, attractive, and knew enough about music, movies and fiction so that Ronnie could learn from her. But her key quality for Ronnie was that while Tara was genuinely tolerant and open-minded, she was much more skeptical of the good intentions of white Americans than most white people in the age of Reagan and Koch wanted to hear. And as such, she was ultimately less attractive to the people Ronnie was interested in sleeping with. Ronnie had chosen Victoria Leilei Grenier, or Riley as she had been called since childhood with the same cunning in mind. She had first met Riley in an English class and asked for her help in reading Chaucer (this was partly because of a hangover from the previous night that Ronnie was more successful in hiding than recovering from). She realized that Riley was kind, thoughtful, capable of considerable generosity and intelligence, but also somewhat nervous and insecure. The fact that she was clearly overweight also allowed Ronnie to be appear more generous to her than was actually the case. Of course, had she realized that Riley was going to lose sixty pounds over the time that she knew her, she probably would have chosen somebody else to be her friend. Somewhat fortunately in the area of sexual competition, Riley had actually a secret crush that Ronnie subtly encouraged to distract her from other men.
Ronnie turned to Simon: "There's so much that's interesting in quantum mechanics and how it deals with Chaos theory and the Gaia hypothesis. I saw this book called The Dancing Wu-Li Masters, and it leads to all kind of interesting ideas." She then started one of her patented combinations of New Age gibberish and whatever subject the man she was talking to was interested in. Simon nodded grimly: he had no scruples about sleeping with stupid women, but aggressively stupid ones made him pause. He turned to Danny "Actually I have some interesting news about this year's comic books."
"Are you sure? I actually found 'The Fall of the Mutants' storyline a bit disappointing."
"I can appreciate that. But this year's X-Men crossover sounds much more promising. It's going to be called 'Inferno.' Not only does it finally deal with the Illyanna storyline, but for the first time the X-Men will meet X-Factor."
"Does DC have anything interesting?"
"Well, they have a large crossover called 'Invasion,' which deals with an alien invasion. But the real attraction is that DC has a new Alan Moore story. It's actually an old Alan Moore story that he didn't get around to completing, called 'V for Vendetta.' It's about a future fascist England and the superhero who challenges it."
"Hey, Moore was the guy who wrote 'Watchman!'"
"He was indeed."
"I loved that book." Turning to the women, Danny enthused about the graphic novel. "You know, it was the first critically acclaimed novel I've read that I didn't have to write a book report for."
"Super." muttered Tara.
"Play nice," nudged Riley.
"How do you know about these things so far in advance Simon?" asked Danny.
"Well, actually scientists like us have access to this computer information network, where you can get access to all kinds of info months before it comes out. You see, it's called the..." But then Danny interrupted him. "It's the man of the hour!" And everyone turned to see Danny's younger brother Ben, who was slightly above average height, and who therefore towered over Simon. Handsome in his own right, though obviously not as strong as his brother, Ben was distinctly more intelligent, and clearly less successful. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman. What drinks can I get you?"
"Yeah, I'll have a gin and tonic," said Simon.
Danny pointed to the women, "Ben, you remember Riley, don't you, and this is Ronnie and Tara..."
"Wow, Riley you look great! You look completely different from the last time I saw you! So you're in law school?"
"Actually, this is my last year. And your haircut is nice. It's kind of like Tom Cruise, if you remotely resembled him. But at least you don't look like a bad heavy metal star."
"Or a good one," added Ronnie, but just this Ben abruptly stiffened as a man twice his age approached him. "You're not wasting my time, O'Malley?"
"No, of course not, Mr. Carter."
"You're sure about that, O'Malley?"
"Quite sure, Mr. Carter."
"Because I've seen you spending more time chatting up the customers than doing your job."
"I'm just taking some orders from this table."
Mr. Carter nodded ungracefully and went elsewhere in the bar.
"Nice guy," muttered Riley.
"Oh, he's more bark than bite."
"Famous last words," Simon commented.
"No, he likes to be tough, but if you do a good job he just nags you. Now you see...oh, hell."
"What's the problem?" asked Tara.
"See that man over there," indicating a gloomy, dark haired man with an aquiline nose, "that's Mr. Calvicanti, my boss."
"I thought Mr. Carter was your boss," wondered Danny.
"Mr. Carter is just my boss for this bar. Mr. Calvicanti owns this bar and half a dozen others. And you do not want to get on his bad side."
Although a businessmen and of Sicilian descent, Eugene Calvicanti was not a member of what was known euphemistically as "the Sicilian business community." But he was the sort of person who took the SBC's claims of government persecution at face value. As he approached the table Ben quickly retreated. "I think I've heard about him." said Riley. "There's actually a whole new market for these kind of upscale bars. I've read that tourism in New York has increased five fold in the last twelve years."
"Well it's nice to know that this city has an industry other than real estate speculation," agreed Tara. "Pity the music in this bar sucks," as the song 'Feelin' Stronger Every Day' came on.
"Really? I actually like this song," admitted Riley.
"Oh come on Riley, it's Chicago."
"I don't know. There's a good half dozen songs of their's that I like. This song for instance, 'Make me Smile,' 'If you Leave me Now.' And, oh yes 'Old Days.' That must be one of my favorite songs."
There was a brief silence. "OK, one day, the United States is going to realize that The Smiths exist, and you are all going to look like idiots."
Several minutes passed. Riley tried to discuss how alarming the future Supreme Court appointments a Bush/Dole White House could make. But Danny knew little about the subject, Simon didn't really care, and Ronnie didn't want to share her opinion that banning abortion outside the Middle Atlantic States was a fair price to pay if the Republicans lowered her taxes. Danny spoke up, "Of course, it's the middle of hockey season, and I'm leaving tomorrow for two weeks on the road. What are you doing at Columbia Simon?"
"Yes, what are you actually doing?" added Ronnie.
"Well teaching students take up a lot of my time. Actually, there's this interesting new project I've been tapped for. But it's so early in the planning stage..." But just then Ben returned when Mr. Calvicanti left the bar. "I know I've had trouble finding steady work since I dropped out of college. But I think being a bartender here suits me. Not only am I good at mixing drinks, I'm also good at all the showmanship that bartenders are supposed to do when mixing drinks."
"And you also have the charm that customers look for in bars like this one," added Danny, "especially female ones."
"What about the part of the job that involves remembering what people ordered, and serving it to them promptly?" asked Simon peevishly.
There was a slightly longer silence. "OK, that part could use a little more work."
Tuesday, July 14, 1789 Cloud-Porpoise World
At the same time that the future of humanity was being decided on the streets of Paris, Clara and Adam found themselves in a strangely disconcerting world. The Tardis had materialized in what appeared to be the elevator of an Art Deco hotel that would not be popular on Earth for another century and a half. On the walls were elegant, vaguely sinister mirrors, with tasteful decoration. Particularly striking were the mother of pearl motifs, done with rare taste and carved with unique precision. But they weren't actually in a hotel. They were in parts of a hotel, that seemed to float in the cloud on separate parts. One had to jump from parts of the "hotel" to another with a certain care. Otherwise, one would fall to the surface a kilometre or two below.
Adam was particularly disturbed by this new world. After barely making one leap, he picked himself up. "How do these things float in the air?"
The Doctor strode, and occasionally leaped, with confidence. "They hang in the air because they're aesthetically right."
"Really?"
"No. Don't be daft. They're like balloons, only more charmingly done." And he strode to his quarry, a dying porpoise.
"Why are we here?" asked Clara. "From what you said back in the TARDIS, whatever is doing this is ravaging whole civilizations. This civilization of floating porpoises is comparatively small."
"There's a very good reason, Clara. Just think a little. Have you noticed the pearl craftwork?"
"Very much so. It's very striking. The porpoises made it themselves?"
"Of course they did. Who else would make it?"
Clara looked at the dying porpoise whom the Doctor was gently consoling. Then she noticed something. "That porpoise's flippers. They're just like porpoises on Earth. They're good for swimming, but they could hardly be used to craft anything."
The Doctor smiled, or as best he could under the circumstances. "Correct. So how did the porpoises make them?"
Clara realized the answer. "They must be telekinetic!"
"And telepathic." The Doctor snapped his fingers and the computer in Adam's head revealed itself. He used his sonic screwdriver to start a computer program. "Whatever destroyed the Tachocopoti didn't use ordinary weapons. It must have used pure mental energy. And the porpoises here have some traces of what attacked them. And with the computer we can help record them."
Adam winced under the headache the computer program caused. "Whatever is doing this is also traveling in time. How is it doing that?"
The Doctor nodded more grimly. "There are a very limited number of time traveling species..."
"Yeah, I don't know of any aside from the Timelords and the Daleks." Clara pointed out.
"And there's also a very limited number of ways one can travel through time. Rather disconcertingly, whoever we're facing isn't using any of those means to do it."
"So how is it traveling?"
"It appears to be opening up wormholes at will and going through them with sheer abandon." The Doctor completed his examination as the porpoise died. Then he started to return to the TARDIS. "I've got an intuition who we're fighting. But I need to confirm it."
Friday, August 19, 1988
It was about quarter to three in the afternoon, when Tara entered the bar. "Where the hell is everybody? You'd think at least the O'Malleys would be here."
Ronnie noticed Tara from the table she was sitting at. "I think Danny is with Simon at the University. I don't know here Ben is."
Tara looked warily around the bar. "There's something not right..."
"Yes. Have you been having that feeling all day?"
Ordinarily Tara cared little for any of Ronnie's talk about feelings, or any of her other New Age chatter. But today, "Now that you mention it..." Tara looked to the television overhead which was on CNN. "...the Senator added that he was sure that Senator Quayle would be a remarkable addition to the GOP ticket. In Breaking News, we've just had a report that the Comtesse Di Contarini, a leading member of the International Jet Set, has been found drowned just off Battery Park. We have not confirmed this report, but sources indicate..."
Tuesday, February 9, 1988
When Kostelanetz had gotten a cell phone for Purim almost a year ago, with his mother agreeing to pay all the bills involved with it herself, he couldn't believe his luck. Of course, within a few weeks he realized that luck was very bad, because now his mother could call him at any moment of the day. Now he had to find an excuse for why he didn't answer her every call, something which considerably taxed his ingenuity. This evening as he walked towards the bar he was only moderately annoyed. "Mom, of course I can't tell you all about it. Which part of 'Top Secret,' do you fail to understand?" He winced under a barrage of passive-aggressive tendentiousness, delivered in his mother's hoarse, coarse voice. "Look, Mom, if this works, I could be as big as Watson and Crick." Kostelanetz winced again when he remembered that his mother didn't know or had deliberately forgotten the discoverers of the DNA double helix. "Look, I don't care that Mrs. Bierdermeier's son is a doctor, or that he's getting married in May. Yes, I can't tell you more, but I promise you that once I can you'll have good reason to be proud of me. Look Mom, I've got to go..." He turned off his phone and started the last two blocks to the bar.
He wasn't aware that he was at that moment under electronic surveillance. Watching him from two blocks up were a couple with the best technological advances the past 14 years had over "The Conversation," while the couple themselves looked considerably more attractive than Gene Hackman and John Cazale. "Why are we watching this schmuck argue with his mother? Like that never happens in New York." wondered the mildly seductive female half.
An answer abruptly appeared on a walkie talkie. "Yours is not to reason why. Yours is but to do and die." The voice was vaguely English, and commanding enough to halt any dissension and make the two double down and concentrate on listening to Kostelanetz as he entered the bar. Simon walked over to Ben behind his bar. "So Danny's gone for another couple of weeks? Damn. I thought he left on Thursday." He ordered a gin and tonic, and was surprised to find it pleasantly different. Ben smiled at him, and Simon felt a little guilty that the extra effort was probably wasted on someone like him. He noticed the three girls at a nearby table and started to make a smile that threatened to turn into an obnoxious leer before seeing his reflection in a mirror made him check it. He strode over to the table.
The eavesdroppers carefully listened to the chatter between the quartet, while Ben dropped by occasionally, ostensibly to offer drinks. They edited excerpts of Ronnie talking about the New Age, Simon subtly disagreeing with some quackish medical cares, and with Riley announcing she had to leave since she had classes tomorrow. "Is this twit trying to hit on one of these girls?" the male eavesdropper wondered. The voice spoke up again. "I will be the judge of how relevant this conversation is. Keep to your work." More than a hour had passed, and Simon had not noticed that Ben was finishing his shift now, and not a couple of hours later when the bar closed. He had just mentioned Martin Gardiner in response to something (deliberately) vacuous that Ronnie had said when Tara spoke up. "I've heard of 'Fads and Fallacies in the Name of Science,' but I've never taken the time to read it."
"Oh, I think I can help you. I have a copy of it back at my apartment."
"Well you can bring it over the next time we meet."
"Actually my apartment's only a few blocks away. We could go over now and I could give it you."
Tara was immediately skeptical. But after briefly considering it she agreed to come along. They soon reached his place. "Would you like a drink, Tara?"
"Not really. If I did I wouldn't have left the bar."
"Well, I think I'll get one for myself." Tara waited tactfully by the door while Simon made himself a soda. He then went to the bookcase, but instead of retrieving the book, turned on his CD player. "You Shook me all Night Long," loudly filled the room. To Tara's considerable surprise, Simon swaggered, strutted and postured in a manifestly unsuccessful attempt to dance sexily. Tara stared at him for more than a full minute. Then she began to laugh. This initially did not affect Simon's confidence. He had been told that in situations like this he should just brave through the derision. So it took another forty-five seconds for him to realize that this simply wasn't going to work. He turned off the CD player, put down his drink, and approached Tara.
"The book you promised me?"
"Oh right." And Simon quickly returned to the bookcase, obtained the book and quickly raced back. "I'm sorry. That was crass of me."
"Quite."
"I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship."
"I think we have to know each other a bit more before we can say we are actually friends. But I accept your apology."
She turned to go and then paused. "Just one thing. Most white men, actually most men period prefer blondes. So why did you try to pick up me?"
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Not so much wrong as unusual."
"No deep reason. There is a price men are willing to pay for sex. And listening to two hours of New Age garbage beforehand is one I'm not willing to pay."
"I have two blonde friends."
"Oh, Riley was never an option."
"Why not?"
"Well it's obvious. She's Danny's girl."
"That's what he thinks," Tara said to herself as she walked to the elevator.
September 11, 695423996 Manussa 4
The Doctor and his two companions walked the surface of the burning planet in space suits, since the surface temperature was a couple of hundred degrees higher than it had been when it had been the home of the Sumaran empire hundreds of millions years ago. All life had long ago died or evacuated, but there were still ruins, or more accurately the vestiges of ruins. In the rubble, the Doctor sifted through the hot sand, and found a small piece of crystal. He snapped his fingers, and the computer in Adam's head opened. As a program ran, the Doctor used his sonic screwdriver on the crystal.
"That's a rather large sun in the sky." Adam noted warily.
"Of course it is. It's going to explode in thirty five minutes."
"What?"
"Yes, give or take half an hour. So don't wander off."
"What?!"
"That's cutting it fairly close Doctor." rued Clara.
"Yes. It's actually a bit encouraging, since it means the entity is afraid of being caught in a supernova."
"That's not much of a limitation."
"No, it clearly isn't. And the entity is becoming more powerful the more it rampages through the universe." The screwdriver made a silly "beep-beep" noise as it completed its scan. "At least we now know who it is." He started running back to the TARDIS, followed by the others. "It's incredible. It's a very old enemy, but far more powerful than when I last encountered it. We are about to face..."
Sunday, March 2, 1988
"...the Mara!" shouted Ronnie.
"The what?" asked Tara. She, Ronnie and Riley were all spending the evening in Riley's rather small apartment. Riley has invited them to watch "12 Angry Men" on television, and Tara's first thought was this a ruse on Ronnie's part to change the subject. "The Mara: it is an expression of our fears, our doubts, our inabilities to face our weaknesses. It lurks inside of us, wanting to hurt our friends, questioning their good faith, doubting their love. It slowly accumulates, like soot on a building. But it can be cleaned through special healing exercises. I sense its presence among us. Something in the atmosphere shows it exists. It has to be dealt with."
"And how would we do that?" wondered Riley.
"We need candles. And we need to light incense." Ronnie took out both from her purse, and enclosed the three of them on the floor within four candles, while lighting a bier of incense at a fifth point, creating a pentagon. Riley and Tara were a bit skeptical, but there was something in Ronnie's tone that made them take her seriously. "Besides she did treat us to dinner last week," Riley whispered to Tara. Ronnie started a chant, the sort of chant that Tara was surprised to find out eight months ago was actually in Tibetan. "We will all try to clear our thoughts. For a few minutes we will try to not think at all. Then one of us will speak. Then after another has purged her thoughts, she will speak, and then the last one."
"How long will this take?" queried Riley.
"It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes." (The movie started on TV in thirty-five.) "Close your eyes. And try not to think." There was a silence that, not surprisingly, Ronnie was the first to break. "There are waters rushing down..." There was a pause. "I see the sun shining in a foreign sky. Very foreign. There are tints of green." Another pause. "Something slips and slides from my hands. A melody whispers in my ear. I see a band of gold. There is something caressing me." Yet another pause. "I see a clock, no, a sundial. It's about to burst, full of pomegranates." There was another silence, a shorter one this time, before Ronnie said "Your turn."
it wasn't clear who this was directed to. At the moment Tara was trying not to think, and thinking that she was clearly an idiot for going along with this. But then an image appeared to her. "The Comtesse de Contarini?"
"Why are you thinking of her?"
"I don't know. I mean it's the eighties, and the world is full of very rich and very presumptuous people who force themselves on the rest of us. But the Comtesse is different. I mean not different in the way that she's always in style magazines and getting mentioned in the New York media. But there's something special about her."
"But she's not even a countess." Riley objected. "I mean she is a countess because she married an Italian count. But she's neither Italian nor an aristocrat. Before she met the Count she was a Playboy centerfold from flyover country."
"I know that. But there's something about her. She's like Thatcher. I mean I hate Thatcher and I hate everything she stands for. But I respect her in a way I don't respect Reagan. And I feel the same way about the Comtesse. I mean on the face of it she's just a blonde bimbo who graduated to Eurotrash. But there's something about her eyes. They're very dark. And there's something in them. Ouroboros?" Tara's body twitched suddenly. "I'm sorry, I've lost it."
Now it was Riley's turn. "There's a spiral. No, something is spiraling. Somewhere in the dark. No, not in the dark. Not there at all. But in the opposite. I can't quite grasp it."
"You need to focus," Ronnie whispered.
"Something as sweet as a kiss. Something as happy as a laugh. That's not the spiral, but there's a connection? I don't understand."
"Try to concentrate on your senses."
"There's something I need more than anything else in the world. Something that makes me laugh. There's a trap, but it's not for me..."
"Try a specific sense. Like smell."
"I smell...cotton candy? Some really mediocre popcorn, but I'm so happy. I'm smelling the incense. There's smoke along with it, there's more of it. Omigod something's burning!"
And indeed something was. Entirely the fault of Ronnie's carelessness, there was now a small fire burning near the incense burner. Riley immediately got up and tried to extinguish it, ultimately succeeding with Tara's help. "I think this was an interesting exercise." summarized Ronnie. "It's unfortunate we didn't quite complete it. We should try it again some time.
Riley fumed at Ronnie. "You. Set. My Apartment. ON FIRE!"
December 24, 5472 Metebellis Three
The Doctor and his companions were below the surface, in the caves where the sentient spiders lived. Or more accurately, had lived. One large spider slowly staggered to the Doctor. "You may not have realized this, but some of us survived of our last encounter with you."
"Although I died the last time I was here, I'm glad to hear of it."
"Then the Mara arrived, and now we're all dying."
"I know. I need you to give me the crystal that I brought here the time I was here before."
"Don't you already have a crystal from this planet?"
"It doesn't contain the Mara's psychic signature. I know using your powers while on death's door will be unpleasant. But I need you to teleport the crystal here. I can't risk dying from radiation poisoning looking for it myself."
The spider and a couple of her sickly sisters formed a circle and started a trance. Adam shuddered. "They don't look like a very pleasant species."
"They're vindictive, spiteful and their late leader suffered from megalomania. So they're not that different from humans."
"Can you tell us more about the Mara?" asked Clara.
"It's a strange entity of pure hatred, anger and greed. It manipulates and feeds in the dark places of the soul. It's a psychic entity, but when it manifests itself it appears in the form of a great serpent. I fought it twice before, but its powers were much more limited. It had trouble controlling a few dozen people, now it can kill tens of millions in moments. I thought I had destroyed it, but I apparently sent it to a psychic wasteland, and somehow it has become free." A blue gem of extraordinary beauty materialized before the Doctor's feet. "You won't regret this," he said to the Spider, but she had already died. He picked up the gem and turned towards the TARDIS.
"So we're going to use this crystal against the Mara?" pondered Clara.
"We're going to need a lot of help first."
Friday, May 13, 1988
Bonnie O'Malley was in an exceptionally bad mood. Tall, blonde, surprisingly, indeed disconcertingly, young for Danny's mother, she had an alarmingly large number of things to do before tomorrow, and had for several days. Arguably she handled pressure well, since she was actually getting these things done and on time. That she responded to it by being very angry was something the rest of her family had learned to accept and appreciate. "I knew this would happen! I've known this for years. I've known this was exactly the sort of stupid thing Ben O'Malley would do! I've told him for years and years not to do this, and this is exactly what he ends up doing! My son is an idiot! My son is a moron! And now I have to prepare the song list! 'Old Days," indeed. God, Riley has awful taste."
Just then Ben poked his head in. "Just wanted to thank you for everything you're doing Mom!"
With typical impulsiveness, Bonnie picked up an ashtray and hurled it at her son. Fortunately, she missed. "Thanks also for throwing wide." and he quickly ducked out.
"My son is going to be the death of me, and the rest of the family! This is a disaster just waiting to happen!" Just then the telephone rang. "Whoever the hell this is, I have absolutely no time for you. Unless you're the florists."
"I understand," said the voice calmly, "children apparently can be such a handful."
"You have no idea! I love my son, but the past two months I just want to throw him off the Brooklyn bridge every single day!"
"Yes. And I've been told that many children don't really appreciate their mothers."
"Oh, that is so right. Not a word of gratitude, not a word of thanks! It's so frustrating!"
"I sympathize completely. Why don't you relax for a moment and tell me all about it?"
January 6, 2738, High Chamber of the Draconian EmpireThe Doctor strode with confidence into the elaborate rooms that housed what amounted to the general staff of the Draconian empire. Clara and Adam followed behind. Adam was distinctly more nervous, since the Draconian bodyguards and high ranking officers were clearly taller than ordinary human men. While the Doctor was treated with respect, they showed no such courtesy to the species they had fought in a violent war several decades earlier. Dressed in their elaborate robes, featuring designs that were centuries old, the reptilian species spoke with a distinct hiss with every sentence. The Doctor approached an empty chair, representing the absent emperor. On the chair's right was the leading solider of the entire empire.
"I approach you, High Paladin of the empire, servant of the Imperial Pentagon."
"Ah Doctor, you sssayy you can tell usss how to ssstop the Mara?"
"You told me it has been ravaging your Empire?"
"Our Empire, asss well asss thossse of the humansss. We alssso believe that it hass attacked other worldsss in the galaxy."
The High Paladin made a signal and a short mole like creature entered, about half the size of a Draconian. According to immemorial tradition Draconian officers were not supposed to handle ink, and a number of bureaucratic tasks were officially carried out by a number of allied species. The "Mole" secretary handed the Doctor some papers, which he quickly perused while Clara looked over his shoulder. She winced as she realized what the contents said. "According to these records, the Mara has destroyed billions of people."
"Oh yes, it becomes more powerful the longer it grows unchecked."
"How powerful can it become?"
"Well the universe is an extremely large place, and eternity is an extremely long time. However, geometrical progression tends to cut it down to size rather quickly." Looking more closely at the worlds being ravaged, he added, "In fact, the destruction is confusing the whole time stream."
"And how does that help us?" The Doctor did not reply. But he did smile very briefly, as he returned the papers. "But you're planning an armada to confront the Mara."
"Yesss. We will be assssisssted by the humansss. We, and othersss, plans to confront them in three daysss time at the Cavallax sssyssstem."
Adam was confused. "The Mara travels in time and can pop in and out of any place. Why do you expect it to be there?"
"We have been usssing a number of ssspeciesss with psssychic abilitiesss. I think, Doctor, you have heard of at leassst one of them, the Sssissterhood of Karn, but there are othersss. We have been ussssing them to concentrate and lure the Mara to Cavallax. There isss a black hole nearby, while we have ssspecial weaponsss that we feel may ssssavage the Mara."
The Doctor nodded. "The idea works in principle. Psychic energy isn't that radically different from other energy. It should therefore be capable of being blocked, being jammed or being countered."
"But you have ssssomething sssspecial, sssomething of dissstinct value?"
"I have a special psychic tool. I will join you in battle at Cavallax."
"And how ussseful will it be?"
The Doctor hesitated ever so slightly. "I promise you hope."
Friday, June 10, 1988
Simon and all his friends were at the bar. He was sitting at a table with Danny and Ronnie, and was thinking of a way to cheer up Danny. The playoffs had been going on for what seemed an eternity, but not for the Rangers. They couldn't even claim to be humiliated by the Oilers as that team won their fourth Stanley Cup in five years. There were other problems of course, and Simon was pondering how to raise the issue while absently wondering why Ronnie hadn't bothered him with fraudulent "alternative medicines." But just this his cell phone rang. "Yes? Hello? Oh Pr. Hawking! It must be incredibly late in Cambridge." There was some unpleasant feedback on his phone. "I'm having trouble hearing your sir. I'm going to put you on speaker phone." Few if any cellular phones had that feature in 1988. But although Simon had not been an engineer, he had minored it in university, and had tinkered with his cell phone for that to work. He motioned Danny and Ronnie to be quiet.
"I wanted to talk to you about the engineering synchronization aspect." said Hawking in the voice that had not quite become internationally famous.
"Is this from the project you've been working on?" asked Danny.
"Yes, of course," as Simon shushed Danny.
"The synchronization aspect has not worked quite as we hoped."
"Oh no. What's gone wrong?"
"What's gone wrong...is that it is working remarkably better than we expected. In fact it is working better than we had any hope to expect."
"What?!"
"In fact it is working so well, we have moved the grand planning meeting to the first thing Monday."
"Omigod, that's incredible!"
"I thought you should be the first to know." And he hung up.
Simon was ecstatic. The other two looked at him. "Is it just me, or did that person have a very strange voice?" wondered Danny.
"That's not his voice. It's a computer program that allows him to talk."
"Oh." Danny was silent. "Ummm, OK."
"You still haven't told us what this project's about." Ronnie noted.
"Yeah. And I still can't tell you. But I promise you will know well before I win my first Nobel prize."
The trio's attention was attracted by applause elsewhere in the bar. Mr. Carter was drawing his attention to Ben. "Let me introduce you to the man who both the Post and the News makes the best martinis in New York City, not to mention the best Manhattans in Manhattan: Ben O'Malley!" The room applauded, with Riley's clapping at another table blocked by a host of law books. Carter noticed that Mr. Calvicanti had entered the bar. "Mr. Calvicanti, have you heard the good news?"
"Indeed I have. Good job Carter." Calvicanti then looked at Ben. "And I've heard so much about you Mr. O'Malley."
"All good, I hope."
"Not really, no."
Meanwhile Tara had just returned from the washroom and was about to rejoin Riley. She noticed a news report about the Comtesse de Contarini and the latest Milan fashions when an employee told her there was a phone call for her. "Hello?"
"You are not going to hang up this phone."
"Who is this?"
"You know perfectly well who this is. It's a complete stranger whom you've never met before. But you are not going to hang up this phone."
"Is this some kind of obscene call?"
"Ms. Dobbs, you know perfectly well that this isn't. I know you are a very strong and intelligent woman, because if you weren't you would have been crushed well before now."
"What's this about?"
"It's not about you. It's never going to be about you, because despite being very strong and intelligent you are not destined to be the hero of your own life. It's about your friends. It's about what you can tell me about them Tara Tucker Dobbs, the token of their good faith. You are going to tell me everything I need to know about them."
January 9, 2738 Cavallax System
The Doctor, Clara and Adam were in the TARDIS and could see outside the two vast and very different armadas designed to stop the Mara. Adam was quite alarmed, having never seen such an enormous space fleet. Clara was hardly confident about them either. To the right of the main TARDIS motor the blue crystal from Metebellis Three was plugged in to an elaborate electrical device, as well an elaborate contraption that one placed on one's head. It was also connected to one of the TARDIS's chronometers.
"That cloister bell does not become more attractive with time." worried Adam.
"Nor does your complaining about it." added the Doctor.
The largest of the Draconian ships held the High Paladin, who communicated to the TARDIS. "We are expecting assssissstance from another ssspecies. Given your relationnsss with that ssspecies, we were careful not to tell them of your aid."
A warship materialized in the distance. So did another one, and then another, and soon that section of space was filled with them. "Daleks," Clara realized.
"Yes," noted the Doctor. "The Time War distinctly limits the ability for either them or me to encounter the pasts of each other. Actually it makes it impossible."
"Not the people we really want to see right this moment." Adam fretted.
"Don't worry. They're not the enemy right now. And even if they were, I've faced Dalek armadas before."
Clara paced the length of the TARDIS console room. A voice came up from the main Human spaceship. "We're noticing a disturbance, like a wormhole forming."
"Then that would be the Mara. I guess it's showtime then," said Adam. The Doctor snapped his fingers, making the computer in Adam's head appear. "You are going to receive a lot of information via your computer. It'll be painful, but you can make your way through it. Clara I'll need you to dematerialize the TARDIS on an instant's notice." The Doctor put on the contraption that linked him to the crystal, and started to concentrate.
Outside a brief light appeared and then vanished. "The Mara hasss arrived." The Draconians, Humans and Daleks activated their special psychic weapons. In the vacuum of space they made no sound, of course. There was a slow, steady unpleasant hum as the crystal glowed. One of the TARDIS screens turned on automatically. Information from Adam's computer was downloading on to it, while Adam winced from the pain. "The chronometer!" yelled Clara as that too turned on. Random numbers started appearing in no logical sequence. For what seemed like minutes, but was less than thirty seconds, screens flashed, crystals hummed, and nothing else happened. "We have not received no psssychic contact from the Mara. Sssso far our weaponsss are working asss well as we can expect. Doctor, will thisss work?"
"I offered you hope high Paladin. And I have every reason to believe that if this works, not a single Draconian will die today."
Clara tapped her fingers nervously. Five seconds passed, and nothing new happened. Ten seconds passed, and there was no sudden change. Fifteen seconds passed and things were still the same. Twenty seconds passed, and everything seemed to be under control. And then at twenty-three seconds, a human ship exploded. The noise, briefly loud than abruptly silent, was somehow transferred directly to the TARDIS. Then a Draconian ship exploded, then a Dalek one. And then the image of the Mara as a giant serpent appeared in the TARDIS console room itself.
Wednesday, February 10, 1988
It was a busy day for Riley at her law school. She had just finished a class, and that was a lot of reading for her to do. There were assignments that required her attention. There was volunteering and law student activities that she should have been concerned about. And the day was somewhat chillier than one expected for a New York February. Yet as she left the building where her class had been, all she could see was the sunny sky, and all she could feel was the growing enthusiasm in her heart. As she walked away, she started running, and it took some effort to carry her purse and the books she had brought, instead of just tossing them aside.She ran faster and faster, and when she stopped at a street corner waiting for the light to change, she started to laugh out of sheer joy. She didn't see the relatively young nun approach her and smile at her.
"Don't do it. He'll only break your heart."
Riley was startled, and stumbled slightly as she turned to face the nun, who smiled beatifically. Then the light changed and Riley managed to regain her footing. She started to move across the street, and looking back at the nun started to break into a run. She ran faster and faster, and in a moment or two it almost appeared that nothing had happened to her at all.
January 9, 2738 Cavallax System
The shock of the Mara's appearance forced all three to the floor of the TARDIS. Adam took it particularly badly and started fruitlessly twittering out warnings to his friends and family more than seven centuries in the past. "Give me that, you idiot," the Doctor said as he grabbed the device. "You're panicking. It's absolutely vital not to panic."
Clara got up from the floor to see warships of all kinds explode as they were destroyed by the Mara. The High Paladin shouted to the TARDIS "Our ssspecial sssyssstems are failing! We have no defenssses against the Mara. Doctor, you have to help ussss!"
But just then the crystal from Metebellis 3 glowed very brightly, then exploded. The three ducked down not to be hit by the shards. Most of the crystal was still there linked to the device, but it was now a hunk of coal which then turned to ash. The Doctor aimed his sonic screwdriver at Adam, and then aimed it half a dozen places in the Control room. "Doctor!" Clara shouted. Outside the three armadas were exploding one ship at a time in an accelerating crescendo. "Doctor!' screamed the High Paladinfrom his own warship, the largest of the Draconian armada. Then it too exploded. "Clara, demateralize!" The TARDIS did so as the last of the ships were all destroyed by the Mara.
There was a silence in the TARDIS. Then a soft voice was heard on the intercom. The three struggled to listen to it before Adam recognized it. "Is someone singing the alphabet?"
"I need to concentrate. The TARDIS' language circuits are complicating matters." He closed his eyes and concentrated as the voice sang the alphabet. Then the cloister bell started chiming in again. The three hadn't noticed it stopping when the Mara had materialized. "I understand what this is. Before the Daleks were formed, there were Kaleds, there were Thals, and there were mutants of Kaleds and Thals. But they were all sentient and they all remembered the songs that they used to remember their common alphabet."
"We should rescue it!" demanded Clara.
"No, we can't. We can't go back to the Cavallax system because the Mara would devote its full attention to us. Even if we could do that, we're dealing with a Dalek in space, whose shield has been shattered and is exposed to the cold and the vacuum.It's been so exposed that all the Dalek programming has been damaged and it's returning to its fundamental pre-Dalek views. It's that damaged." The alphabet song stopped. "And now it's gone." He then turned to the chronometer. "Yes! It worked! It's working perfectly!"
"What's working perfectly?" asked Adam.
"The whole point of what we were doing, obviously."
"Doctor," asked an alarmed Clara, "you promised the armadas hope."
"Yes. Yes I did."
"You also promised the High Paladin that not a single Draconian would die today."
The Doctor paused as he remembered what he said a few minutes previously. "Yes, you're right. That's exactly what I did."
"But they're all dead now."
"Umm. For the moment."
"Doctor..." and now Clara was very angry, "did you just trick hundreds of thousands of soldiers, maybe millions..."
"Oh, definitely millions."
"...to sacrifice themselves so that we could observe the Mara at absolutely no risk at ourselves?"
The Doctor turned to face Clara and Adam directly. "No. You heard what the High Paladin said. The Draconians, the humans, the Daleks, their allies, all of them would have appeared here to try to stop the Mara. And they would have failed completely."
"But you still gave them false hope!"
"No, I gave them real hope. Look at that screen right in front of you." The two humans stared at it uncomprehendingly. "Doctor, it's complete gibberish."
"Oh, right. Right now the Mara is extraordinarily powerful. Far too powerful for me to stop on my own. After all it just destroyed three space armadas. But I suspected something from the way it's been hopping in and out of time with no care for the logic of the time stream. And now I've confirmed it. It's temporarily vulnerable!"
"What?"
"I can't defeat the Mara by confronting it now or in its future. But I can go to its past and stop it."
"I thought you couldn't go back in time to do that?" Adam pointed out.
"No, I can't go back in my time stream. There's nothing that prevents me from going back in its time stream. In a few moments that chronometer is going to reveal the time and place where the Mara first appeared after I pushed it back into the void on the Manussan homeworld."
Monday, June 13, 1988
It was a boardroom in the physics department at Columbia university. Half a dozen people were seated around a table waiting for the teleconference to begin. Among them was Kostelanetz, who could barely contain his excitement at being included at the historic moment. A signal appeared on the teleconference system before them. "Dr. Simon Kostelanetz, New York."
"Dr. Steerforth Coogan, Los Angeles" said a supercilious voice with a strong Texan accent.
"Pr. Setsuko Mizoguchi, Tokyo," added a female voice.
"Dr. Rajesh Mukherjee, New Delhi," added a slightly youthful voice.
"Pr. Boris Paradjanov, Leningrad"
"Pr. Nyere Naipaul, Dar Es Salaam."
"Dr. Maria Caetano, Rio de Janiero."
"Pr. Stephen Hawking, Cambridge. We all know that time is not an absolute. We know that it contorts the closer one get to the speed of light. For the moment, this has been of little practical use. The distortions only affect our ability to move into the future, they only work one way, and we do not have the technical capacity to approach more than a miniscule fraction of the speed of light..."
The TARDIS
"So the chronometer will give us an exact time and place?" Clara asked.
"Not an exact time and place. There's a sort of Heisenberg uncertainty principle involved. But it will give us a date and a place. Once we have those, we can go there and prevent the Mara from ever reappearing." The Chronometer digits started settling down, and a date appeared-Friday, August 19, 1988.
"A Friday. Fridays are interesting. A bit overrated, Wednesdays have never quite got their due, but interesting nevertheless." The Doctor then watched the place slowly reveal itself.
"It's on Earth." noted Adam.
"What happened in August 1988 that could be so important? If it happened a year later one could imagine it had something to do with the end of the cold war." Clara pondered the question in her mind. "Wait! Wasn't there a coup in Burma that time?"
"It's not relevant," interjected the Doctor, since the Chronometer made clear that the event took place in the United States. The Doctor waited for the rest of the information to reveal itself-and then his face fell. "No! It can't be there! Why does it have to be there!?" He gasped in shock as the chronometer revealed the place the Mara had arisen was Manhattan, New York City.
Monday, June 10, 1988.
Hawking continued, "Aside from the relativist exception, it is clear that time travel to the past is an impossibility on multiple grounds. And for the next couple of months the rest of the world must believe that. But after our experiment in mid-August takes place, we will make traveling back to the high Renaissance no more difficult than traveling to Antarctica-a mere matter of expense. Consider ladies and gentlemen the implications of what we are about to do."
Friday, August 5, 1988
"Mr. Calvicanti? Mr. Calvicanti?" Carter had been summoned to his boss' headquarters in Soho. He was surprised to find the people he expected to be here absent, and a host of movers shuffling the furniture around.
"Mr. Calvicanti no longer works here." said a voice. Carter turned and saw a man approach him. The voice had an English accent, with an undertone that suggested it was old even when its bearer was young. The man was elegantly attired in a fine suit. He was thin with penetrating eyes. Had Carter been more attentive he would have wondered why the man wasn't sweating like everybody else on this humid summer day.
"What do you mean he doesn't work here?"
"What's the phrase you...Americans like? Of yes, I made him an offer he could not refuse. He is no longer your superior. I am."
Carter, of course, did not recognize the voice from the person spying on Simon Kostelanetz, or the man who had telephoned Bonnie O'Malley or Tara Dobbs. His first thought was that the voice was smug and complacent. Except that the man had every reason to be confident about what he was doing. Carter looked at his new employer nervously, and responded with a slight show of bravado. "Nobody told me about this."
"I'm telling you now."
"And who am I speaking to?"
"Smith. John Smith," said Vislor Turlough.