The metal burned white hot, as Kelly did her best to seal the cracks in the cylinders. She sighed, as she watched the blue flame dance over the glowing metal. She could really have done with some more specialist equipment. And somewhere a bit warmer to work.
At least the heat from the blowtorch was keeping the chill off.
She felt a light tap on her shoulder, and almost jumped out of her skin – which is not the best reaction when one is wielding a blowtorch.
She shut off the flame, and whirled around, pushing the visor out of her face. Chris was staring at her, his eyebrows knotted in concern.
"Goodness me! Chris! Don't come sneaking up on me like that! You scared the life out of me!"
"I'm sorry," Chris spluttered, gulping in a deep breath of air. "I wouldn't have bothered you, but…"
"What is it?" Kelly asked, trying to calm him.
"I don't know if you could hear that…?"
"Hear what? What is it, Chris?"
"That unearthly screeching sound!" Chris finally managed to spout.
Kelly leapt to her feet, and clambered up out of the wreck of the Scotsman, Chris scampering after her.
"What if it's those creatures the Doctor was on about? Those things that want to kill us?" he exclaimed.
"We'd better hope not."
Kelly and Chris scrambled around the other side of the engine, and were just in time to witness the return of a gleeful Doctor.
They watched in astonishment, as the Doctor began to sled down the hill in a trailer the size of a small rowing boat.
The Doctor was yelling "Wheee!" at the top of his voice, as the trailer, crammed with bits and pieces of junk, sailed down the snowdrift, gathering momentum at an incredible pace.
Somehow, he had convinced Liam to ride down with him, and the young lad was sat in the back of the trailer, utterly shell-shocked.
Following behind them, at a much steadier pace, were Miss Flint and Perkins. Quite how Miss Flint managed to keep upright in those heels, they had no idea. Kelly half expected her to come tumbling down the snowdrift at any moment.
The trailer carved a snaking route through the snow, and the Doctor masterfully brought it to a halt, a few feet from the wheels of the Scotsman.
Without missing a beat, the Doctor leapt out of the trailer, bounded up to Chris, and bundled a pile of cabling into his arms, before clapping him heartily on the shoulders.
"Happy Christmas," he muttered jovially. "I've brought us some presents. Lovely."
Chris and Kelly shared an exasperated look. How did the man have so much energy? It was so cold; their fingers were starting to seize up. Yet the Doctor hadn't slowed down at all since they had arrived.
The Doctor dashed back to the trailer, and began to unload some more things.
Perkins caught up with him, and doubled over, gasping for breath. It was a mere second after he'd stood up again that the Doctor thrust the alien control panel into his hands.
"How are we doing?" he asked, looking cheerfully around at the team, "Are we on track?"
"Was that a pun, Doctor?" Perkins enquired with suspicion.
The Doctor grinned. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."
"It happens to the best of us," Perkins admitted.
"Well, Kelly and I have been working on the cylinder," Chris informed him.
"It's nearly done," Kelly added, "We've patched it up the best we can, with the tools we have. It's not perfect, but it'll have to do."
"That's good! Come on, let's keep going," the Doctor barked excitedly. "We can do it! Finish it tonight! Perkins and I will handle the alien tech."
"The what…?" Kelly exclaimed.
The Doctor tossed one of the anti-grav globes into the air, and caught it again, with a flourish.
"Just something to get the Scotsman moving again."
Kelly shook her head in disbelief.
The Doctor grinned at her.
"I'll leave the rest of the repairs in your very capable hands. It's what you trained for, after all."
"What is this?" commented Perkins. "Death by pun?"
"You could call it punishment," quipped the Doctor, beaming in anticipation of a standing ovation. Or possibly a slow clap.
"Please stop," groaned Perkins.
The team returned to work on the engine; fixing connectors, testing pistons, and wiring up alien machinery, all of which took several hours.
The sky was already dark, but the Doctor could sense the evening drawing in. They did not have long, and he gave everyone a quick pep talk whenever he thought it was needed.
The Doctor had been deliberately vague about exactly how long they had before the horde of malicious cyborgs arrived, hoping that his infectious optimism would prevent an epidemic of panic attacks. The last thing he needed now was a mistake.
Even now, if everything went according to plan, the Doctor seriously doubted they could finish before morning.
But for the time being, thankfully, everyone believed him. They would get back. They would get home. Back in time for Christmas.
There was something about Christmastime that provided that extra incentive just to work a little harder now, so one could sit back and relax later. The Doctor wasn't sure what exactly it was. Was it a hunger for Christmas dinner? Was it the desire to be at home with family and friends?
It certainly wasn't the snow – there was enough of that here, slowing everyone down, as they trudged around the locomotive, trying to keep their feet warm.
But whatever it was, he was proud of them all. Perkins, who by rights, didn't even have to be here. Miss Flint, badgering everyone to give her jobs, so she could help out.
Even Chris, who was taking a quiet break inside the Scotsman's cab. The Doctor was a little concerned, and left Perkins working underneath the train to sit with him for a moment.
Every time he'd asked how he was doing, Chris had replied with a hearty 'oh yes, very-well-thanks."
But the Doctor could tell that his enthusiasm was a front. Every response had been a pale shadow of the last, and every time he thought he'd been alone, he had let his mask of optimistic drop.
Chris had caught on to the Doctor's line of questioning, and didn't feel the need to disguise his dejection when the Doctor joined him.
They both perched on the Scotsman's footplate, which Chris patted affectionately.
"She's a stubborn old girl," he muttered, "but she won't let us down."
The Doctor nodded sympathetically, before his eyebrows knotted in concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked, after a moment.
"Yes," Chris answered quietly.
The Doctor scrutinised him again, but left him a chance to talk.
Chris shrugged. "Thanks for trying to help."
The Doctor smiled, kindly. "It's what I do."
"From what I gather, you didn't have to be stuck here," Chris reasoned. "You knew the Scotsman was going get zipped off to another world."
The Doctor nodded. "There's a dangerous weapon on board this train. I can't let it fall into the wrong hands. And I certainly couldn't leave the four of you here."
Chris smiled, and thanked him again.
"I don't think I can do it," he admitted. "I don't know if I can keep going."
The Doctor frowned. "Why not?"
Chris looked up at him, his eyebrows twisted beseechingly.
"It doesn't matter if I don't make it back – I'm an old man! But I don't want the others stranded here. Kelly, and young Liam. I don't want to let them down."
The Doctor patted him gently on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Chris. You won't let anyone down. And don't you dare tell me it doesn't matter if you don't get back. Of course it matters! You're not old. You've got miles, yet."
Chris smiled politely. "I know you mean well, Doctor, but I am old."
"No you're not."
"I'm in my eighties!" Chris protested
"I'm in my two-thousands!" the Doctor retorted.
Chris' eyes widened in surprise, and his teeth were displaying his disbelief.
It took him a moment to get over the shock once he realised that, no, the Doctor wasn't lying.
"Come on," the Doctor urged, giving him a friendly nudge, "it's getting late. Why don't we take a quick break? Gather everyone together."
