The sun gently kissed the horizon. It was the softest of touches, barely perceptible to most who saw. For a moment it held itself against the dark blue band that was the furthest edge of the visible world before easing away and beginning its upward arc back towards the height of the sky.
Mandal turned away from the evening sun and started heaving her nets back onto her boat. It was too warm for more than a small catch and what she did bring aboard was small and weak. It would be another dozen cycles before the giant ball of orange fire would set beneath the horizon, bringing darkness and rebirth to the land. Until then the sun would remain in the sky, its harsh light bathing the scorched ground in relentless heat.
A small channel had been formed by generations of fishermen dragging their boats up onto the beach and she added another rut to its history. There were stories about a time when waves had washed the golden sand each day, smoothing it and returning it to a pristine beauty that she could only imagine. Now there were just the ruts and footprints and detritus left by the fishermen and their craft.
Even empty there was a weight to the net and she heaved it onto her shoulder before setting off up the dry sand towards the seafront. She listened to the crunching beneath her feet as the sand and pebbles gave way under her weight. It was the only sound she could hear.
A short distance from the waterline a low wall ran from left to right and she climbed it by way of a small flight of steps. They took her up onto The Promenade, a stretch of hard land that ran parallel to the beach and was all that was left of the old town. It was wide and almost black, the surface cratered and cracked, yet still managing to appear smooth. It stretched back from the beach, providing a wide walkway that ended with rows of kiosks and stalls that had long since been abandoned and stripped of anything useful that could be carried. Here and there were low bricks walls encircling what had been flower beds that were overrun by plants that had long since learned to stay close to the ground and lose as little water as possible.
At the edge of her senses was something that whirred and ebbed and flowed. Quickly it grew louder, a sound that caught her curiosity and challenged her to find its source. Keeping the net on her shoulder she trotted through the buildings, climbing the dirt bank beyond to its summit so she could look out across the flat plain beyond. Not far from where she stood, nestled amongst a pair of metal struts, was a blue box covered in shapes and writing that she could almost understand. She'd not seen it before, although a part of her was trying to trick her into believing it had always been stood in that place. Focusing on the small swirls of dust that were gradually settling kept such thoughts at bay.
What was she supposed to do? No one had visited the planet in living memory, although everyone knew about the universe and its myriad of lifeforms, alliances and empires. She was sure there were protocols for this situation, that she was supposed to run back to the village and tell them to make appropriate preparations. There wasn't time though as the front of the box split in half, apparently opening so a tall human in dark clothes could survey the ground. It was a strange creature, its limbs much longer than hers, its head more oval in shape and a thick mop of grey hair perched atop.
As it stepped out onto the grey-green moss that covered the plain another appeared beside it. This was much smaller and its movements more frantic. Its hair was dark and long and its clothes more colourful. Around its waist was a band of material that seemed to flow and flutter as it moved.
The first saw her and gestured, lifting its right hand into the air and moving it back and forth quickly.
"Hey, you up there. Which planet is this?"
She heard her language fluently and clearly, but she knew the sounds it had made were not the same. Even so she felt compelled to reply.
"Bandeel," she shouted back.
"Ah," said the tall one, starting to climb the bank. It raised its long arms into the air and spun slowly, apparently surveying the landscape. "Bandeel."
Then its arms slapped against its side. It looked left and right with intense interest before settling its large grey eyes on her.
"Bandeel? Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"Doctor? What is it?"
The small creature had emerged fully from the box, which had now closed. It rushed up the slope to join them, all three standing on the low summit.
"Bandeel, she says. This isn't the Bandeel I know. That was an amazing place with boulevards and sea lapping against golden sands and…"
Its voice broke off.
"Is that the sun?" it asked, pointing into the sky.
"Yes," said Mandal.
"No," it said as if to itself. "That's too large. Far too large."
"What have you done, Doctor?" Asked the smaller.
Doctor must be its name, she decided.
"What was your name again?" it asked her.
"Mandel," she said, "but I don't think I told you it before."
"Mandel. Yes, Mandel. Lovely name. Means swaying tree, but I doubt there are any trees around, eh?"
She shook her head. There were stories about trees, about how they'd covered the land with rich green foliage. Some of the elders had seen them during their walkabout down abouts. She hadn't. Maybe they'd all gone.
It had come closer to her, arms stretched out as if showing it had no weapons and meant her no harm. If it was supposed to reassure her there was little point as she'd felt no anxiety or nervousness.
"So, Mandel, where is everyone?"
Everyone she had ever known lived in the village. Twenty-seven families consisting of seventy-nine people lived in the small cluster of mud and stone huts that fanned out from the well. Around the buildings were the fields that they tended the best they could, growing whatever crops would survive in the lifeless soil. This season had been particularly harsh and only a small tubular root crop had survived the burning sun. Maybe the night would be better.
Reaching the village should have taken two or three notches at most. Even with the heaviest loads it only took four. Yet nearly eight had passed as The Doctor (as it introduced itself) insisted on pausing every now and then to explain something to "Clara" (as it kept calling its pet). Much of what it said made little sense, but she remembered it anyway as she knew she would be asked. As least she tried. The creature's seemingly boundless energy and constant calls for everyone to hurry up at the end of a monologue was draining.
She took them to the village hall, grand name for a building that was little more than a roof supported by metal scavenged long ago and rammed into the hard ground. The Doctor and Clara were invited to sit at one end of the long table while Burr, the village elder, sat at the other. Everyone else gathered round, the entire village filling the square. Mandel was invited to sit at the table too, her catch taken away to be prepared as a meal for everyone.
"You call yourself 'The Doctor'?" Burr said. The moment he spoke the throng of the crowd stopped and everyone listened.
"Yes. You are?"
"And this pet of yours is 'Clara'?"
"Oi," said the smaller creature. "Less of the pet if you don't mind."
The Doctor laughed.
"Yes. A good description in another time and place, but I think she would prefer something like 'assistant' or 'companion'."
Clara was female, realised Mandel. The other was most likely male, although the wrinkles on his skin and the way he held himself and treated her suggested they were not a pairing. Nor were they the same species, she decided. There was something far too superior about him for that.
"Doctor implies a medical disposition, though we have not seen one since before I was born."
"Well, not medical exactly."
"And you speak our language so well."
"Ah yes, now that's more of a trick of the TARDIS," said The Doctor as if reaching for the right words.
"The ship that brought you here?" Burr asked.
"Yes. Blue box thing. Best you keep away from it to be honest. Can get a bit temperamental."
"And your companion is also medical?"
"Teacher, actually," she said.
Again that made sense. She had listened to his ramblings not like a child caught in awe, but as someone who wanted to learn so that she might know more.
"Why are you here? No other being has come to our planet since The Calamity."
The Doctor laughed and said, "That's the thing. We're supposed to be here, just not now. I was aiming for a few hundred years ago. Anyway, what calamity?"
A murmur of disbelief went around the square.
"Everyone knows about the great calamity that so nearly destroyed our world, Doctor."
He shrugged.
"Pretend he doesn't know, for once," said Clara.
The Doctor placed his hand gently on her arm as if to stop her.
"I'm guessing it was a bomb that went off and knocked the planet out of its orbit. Gave you this odd spin that means you've lost your normal day and night cycles and pushed you a bit closer to the star. Slowed your orbit too."
"Then you have heard of it?"
"Lucky guess," he said quickly. "This happened three, four generations ago?"
"Yes. Four to be precise."
"Four generations, about twenty years ago. Not long enough for evolution to take effect and adapt to the new environment," he said. "Tell me, you all feel a little tired all the time, like your clothes are too heavy?"
Burr nodded.
"Yes, extra gravity. Why I'm feeling a little tired myself. Tell me, who else lives on this planet aside from you?"
"No one," said Burr. "At least none as far as we know. We haven't seen another soul since The Calamity."
"Then who is that?"
He pointed towards the horizon and all eyes turned, struggling to make out what he could see. Mandel struggled to see anything through the haze.
The Doctor ran out of the hall, Clara following close behind. They ran out of the village and up a small rise, stopping at the top and peering against the glare. Mandel caught up with them first, her chest hurting with the effort. Other villagers, all equally tired from the effort, joined them.
"What is it, Doctor?" Mandel heard herself ask.
"Do you have places you can hide?" He asked.
"Like caves?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "Very much like caves."
She pointed towards the low hills that rose gently out of the flat plains. He pulled his eyes away from the unseen thing that had so firmly caught his attention to follow the direction of her fingers.
"Too far, I'm afraid. Much too far."
He looked around, inspecting the huts and the alleys between them. He looked too at the sheds where they kept the animals and the well where they got their fresh water. Nothing appeared to satisfy him.
"Doctor?"
Clara's soft voice made him turn slowly and place his hands on her shoulders. His mouth fell open and his whole persona changed to one of a man at peace with inevitability.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."
"Why?" Asked Mandel.
"For that."
They all followed his finger to the horizon. Now they could see it, a black dot a few degrees above the horizon and growing steadily larger.
"We need to run and hide," said The Doctor. "We need to do it now."
Someone screamed. Mandel didn't know who it was or why they did it, but it started a chain reaction of panic that spread through the village like a fire out of control. People started running, not caring which direction they went in, only that they were getting away. The forever tiredness no longer mattered, only the need to escape.
But from what?
Mandel stayed firm, letting people jostle her as she fixed her gaze on the growing dot. It was taking a definite shape, a sort of oblong that hinted at more details to come.
"This way," shouted The Doctor and he grabbed her wrist.
Together they ran towards the dot, her legs struggling to keep up with his long, fast stride. She hadn't run since she was a child and her tired, aching joints weren't sure they would keep up with him for much longer. When she fell she knew he would leave her and save himself and his companion.
Only they didn't. Together they took her, lifting her by her arms and pulling her forward towards the shelter of a shallow depression in the dirt just large enough for all three to hide within.
"Is this going to be enough?" Asked Clara.
"Probably not."
The dot had become like one of the giant birds she'd seen in the drawings. It's wings extended some distance, flexing as they kept it aloft in the thin air and guiding its determined flight. The body was short and stubby, pointed at the front and sloping back more gently towards the triangular tail that seemed to wobble left and right. Its underside was white, its topside black.
A hiss filled the air, followed by a crackling sound than came from the village. She pushed herself deeper into the hollow, pressing hard against Clara whose arm was now covering her head. The machine passed overhead, casting a soundless shadow across them as it flew over her home before banking left and climbing.
Silence became a roar and the rear of the beast lit up with fire. The wings swept back and the machine accelerated away towards the ocean, vanishing quickly from sight and leaving only the rumble of its engines behind.
"That's not good," said The Doctor. He lifted himself to his feet, brushing off the dust that had gathered around his clothes.
"Are you OK?" Clara asked her, helping her off the ground and onto her tired feet.
"Yes," said Mandel as she too brushed herself was shaking. "What was that?"
"The first of many, I'm afraid," said The Doctor.
Smoke rose slowly from the burning hut, climbing almost vertically into the still air. There was no flame, just a bright glow from inside its wrecked walls. Even so the heat was intense and none dared go too close.
"It's an incredible shot," said The Doctor, inspecting the damage through blackened glasses. "Very accurate. See, Clara, there's no damage either side."
He took the glasses off, his face lit up in a delighted smile that made Mandel's anger grow.
"It was someone's home," she scolded.
"Yes," he said, putting his glasses in his pocket and dropping his head in a mock display of shame. "Of course. Wrong of me."
Burr shuffled up beside them and offered The Doctor a cup of water. He shook his head as politely as he could, as did Clara. Disappointed the elder sipped it himself, never thinking to offer it to Mandel.
"Who would do such a thing?" He asked.
"No idea," said The Doctor quickly. "Anyway, I think we've imposed ourselves for long enough. If you wouldn't mind pointing us in the direction of the TARDIS I think we'll be on our way."
"Doctor!"
Clara glared at him with her arms wrapped across her chest and the expression of a teacher scolding a wayward child in class.
"No, Clara," he said firmly, "We should be going."
He gestured with his head towards the ocean.
"You know about this, don't you, Doctor?" Said Burr. His voice was full of resignation. "Is this your people? Are they looking for you?"
Mandel watched him. He was struggling to reconcile thoughts in his mind that conflicted so strongly that a wetness had reached his eyes. It was as if he were remembering something terrible that he'd tried to bury long ago.
"I think I would like to leave now," he said quietly.
"Doctor?"
"I think you should," said Mandel. "I'll take you."
The village watched the strangers walk back towards the beach in silence. Mandel could feel their sadness and confusion at being abandoned by two people who so clearly knew what had attacked them, and what would happen next. There was sadness in The Doctor and his companion too, although hers was more at her own inability to prevent him from leaving.
Mandel waited until the village was out of sight before she stopped.
"I wanted to say thank you for stopping to help me. I appreciate it."
Clara smiled and nodded her acceptance. The Doctor moved as if to make another of his strange, distracting speeches. She was ready for him.
"You know more than you have said, Doctor. You'll now tell me what you know."
For a moment he looked at her as if she was little more than an insect on the hot sand. She was insignificant to him, of such little importance that he did not even waste his precious energy on acknowledging her fears. It frustrated her more than it made her angry.
"Well, Doctor?" she said, challenging his silence.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Clara fold her arms across her chest, tilt her head to one side and lock him in one of her furious glares.
"You do know something, don't you?" Clara said loudly. "Come on, Doctor, what is it you're not telling us."
The Doctor frowned and it was still far from certain he would answer. His hand went into his trouser pocket, removing a small fold of white cloth that he used to mop his brow. With the sun rising high into the sky the heat was building again. Soon it would be too hot to be outside.
"I have been to this world before," he said quietly. "It was a magnificent world. The cities were full of fine architecture with vast libraries dedicated to learning and universities that produced some of the finest philosophers and diplomats. It was a place of wide boulevards lined with trees and always with a fountain in the middle. It had its problems, and there was inequality and poverty as there was in every society. But it was a beautiful place where the pursuit of knowledge was far more important than anything as materialistic as accumulating things.
"I came here during the height of the Jentos Period. You won't know about that of course. All of your history has been lost. What I'll tell you is it was a time when the fabric of society was on the verge of falling apart from political intrigue and subterfuge that made Machiavelli look like an amateur. Not that you'll know who that is either. All that knowledge is gone too."
His voice trailed off, leaving a great sadness in the silence.
"There was a plot to undermine the parliament and bring about a new dictatorship. There's always a dictator in these things and they always need outside help. So Marcus formed an alliance with a people called 'The Darkness.' Nasty characters. Can't be trusted. And he did trust them so.
"Upshot of it all," he said with a sudden burst of excitement, "is I saved the day, parliament didn't fall and The Darkness were sent packing. For a while at least."
He too his dark glasses from his jacket and put them on again. Turning his head this way and that he surveyed the terrain, pausing to focus on one spot in particular for a moment before taking them off and putting them away again. Whatever he'd seen had satisfied a moment of curiosity.
"My guess is about twenty years ago they came back, dropped a bomb, threw this little rock off its orbit and have then played a waiting game. Chances are those who were behind it probably aren't even in power any more."
"Why destroy our world?"
"Oh, usual reasons. Your planet's got something they want and there are people in the way. Best way of plundering a planet is to wait for everyone to get off it, or in your case fry most of them and subdue what's left once the radiation's died down."
Clara looked in horror at her companion.
"You mean they killed everyone just so they could mine the planet?"
"Pretty much, Clara. Nasty way of doing it, but highly effective. Come on."
He started walking in the direction of the blue box.
"So they're coming back to destroy my people?" Mandel called after him.
"Yes," he replied without looking back.
"And what am I to do?"
"No idea."
He was almost at the edge of the rise that hid the box from view, his long stride having carried him far in such a short time. Clara hurried to catch up. After a moment Mandel followed too, hurrying as best her shorter, stiffer legs could manage. By the time she reached the box she was breathless again and the pair were engaged in a heated argument.
"Do nothing? You're a Time Lord, you can do anything!"
"What would you have me do, Clara?" he shouted back. "What do you want? You want me to take everyone off the planet in this old thing? Maybe find a nice new planet for them to start all over on."
"It would be better than leaving them here to die."
The Doctor pointed at the horizon. Following his gesture Mandel saw a dot and fear grew inside her. Before her eyes the dots multiplied until there were a dozen or more.
"There isn't time," he shouted and pushed the door of the small blue box open. He stepped to one side, as if telling his companion to step inside. She refused.
"What will happen?" asked Mandel, although she was sure she already knew.
"In a few minutes The Darkness will return to finish destroying the village. Only it won't be single huts they destroy but every thing and every one. When that's done they'll land, set up their machines and take every last gram of ore they can get out of the rock before this planet falls apart. My best estimate is that'll be about a full year, but it won't matter to you because you and your people will be dead. Every last one of you."
Horror filled her. His words were said with a casual lilt, as if he were just throwing them out to hear their sounds. Only they cut into her, made her realise the fragile existence she had endured since the moment of her birth was just that: fragile. At any moment, in a few moments if he were to be believed, that fragility would be put to the test and she knew with all her being that she would fail. Her head spun and her tired, aching knees failed her. She fell to the ground, landing with a heavy thud.
"Mandel!"
Clara was by her side in an instant, concern writ large on her face. The Doctor stood back and aloof, watching the spectacle with no more interest than she'd expected.
"How can you be so cruel?" Clara snapped at him.
"What did you want?" He shouted back angrily. "That I sugar coat it? That I tell her everything is OK when clearly it isn't?"
Mandel struggled to sit upright, propping herself up with her arms. She still felt a little light headed.
"You are a cruel man, Doctor," she said.
"Really? Is it me whose going to scrub you out of existence?"
"No. But it is you who is refusing to help."
Her words seemed to hit The Doctor like a slap across the face.
"What would you have me do, Mandel? Destroy The Darkness?"
"Save my people."
Clara rose slowly to her feet, turning to face The Doctor.
"Could you?"
The Doctor laughed.
"Ah yes, the catch-all solution. Save her people."
"You could," said Clara. "It isn't like space is a problem for you."
"What then? Find them a nice little planet to live on and hope they make it? Hope they don't run into another Darkness? Or interact with the indigenous life forms and send some other species into extinction?"
His anger was thick in his words.
"You can do something, Doctor!" Shouted an exasperated Clara.
He looked at her, then at Mandel. He let the door of the box close and stepped towards her, extending his hand to help her rise.
"Come on," he said. "There's no time to go back but you can come with me. I can save you."
She took his hand and used it to lift herself up. In spite of his thin form he was surprisingly strong.
"Save me?" She asked.
"Yes. You. Only you."
She looked at the box. It was small, too small for all three of them to be in comfortably.
"Come on," he said softly, reassuring her. "You can travel with us until you don't want to any more."
She took a step forward.
"But I tell you this," he added, "you will be the last of your kind and that is a lonely, painful existence. Take my word for it."
Hesitation. She turned back towards the village and the growing dots that she knew were machines intent on its destruction. Everyone she had ever known was there. Every memory she had ever had.
"No," she said. "I can't go with you."
She let go of his hand, regret rushing through her in an instant. Slowly she stepped back, forcing herself to put distance between his cruelty and Clara's kindness.
"Doctor?" Said Clara.
The Doctor smiled at Mandel. It was a warm smile, the first sign of respect towards her she had seen and she felt such joy in her heart.
"Thank you," she said. Then she turned and ran towards her village to be with the last of her kind.
The TARDIS settled down as it left the planet to its fate. The Doctor busied himself with changing settings and checking things he had no need to check. It was a distraction.
By the door was Clara, arms folded tightly across her chest, legs crossed, leaning back against the frame. She glared at him.
"You could've saved them," she told him.
He ignored her for a moment.
"You just committed genocide," she shouted.
"I think you'll find it's The Darkness that did that," he retorted, refusing to look at her.
She rushed at him, hitting him hard on the chest.
"You old, stupid fool. Don't you get it? By doing nothing you might as well have pulled the trigger yourself."
There were tears rolling down her cheeks and he stood motionless, not entirely sure what he was supposed to do. Something inside him told him to hold her shoulders, lower himself to her level and look her in the eye with all the raw emotion he could bare to expose her to.
"Don't you think I don't know that? Every time I make a decision to leave someone behind I make a decision to condemn them to death or a life they did not deserve. But that's the way it has to be."
She looked into his eyes and saw his pain.
"It's me, Clara," he lamented, "It's always me. It's me who decides which civilisations go on and which fail. I am the one responsible for the deaths of billions and the lives of trillions. It's always been me, Clara, and it always will be."
He held her for a moment longer, then turned away slowly and looked at some control, moving the switch up and down for no purpose than it was something to do.
She watched and realised no matter what she'd been through or how much she'd seen she would never understand the responsibility he took on himself. Nor would he ever let her share it.
"Right," he said, clapping his hands loudly and rushing to the far side of the console. "Enough dwelling on what could have been, let's have some fun. Gantus-9 has some fascinating flowers that change colour as you speak to them. Interesting means of having a conversation."
She wiped the tears away from her eyes and nodded silently.
"Excellent," he said and started the TARDIS on its new journey.