Hi Everyone! I'm sorry this took me so long, but RL has been pretty chaotic these past few months with my new teaching job and everything. I'd really hoped to get this chapter up by Christmas, but I ended up catching the flu, and the next thing I knew it was Christmas Eve and I barely had three paragraphs down. But now I'm back and I'm well and what I think is probably the next-to-last chapter of this story is finally ready to be posted! What I'd really like is to get the rest of this story finished by New Year. Wish me luck, and thanks again for your amazing patience with me!

Chapter Eighteen

Ten looked up from his control panel to glance at the display on his monitor screen. "Well, here we are," he announced. "Logopolis…currently known as Liddypool Prime."

Rose and the Beatles crowded around behind him, peering over his shoulders to catch a glimpse of the small, greenish-brown world below. Paul narrowed his eyes.

"I'm still having trouble wrappin' me head round all this," he said. "I mean, even if I grant you that this is a time machine and that that really is an alien planet on that little screen there, I'm still not clear on what you expect us to do."

"Yeah," Ringo agreed. "You still haven't said how our singin's supposed to stop them creature things from…what was it? Tearin' the universe apart?"

"Yeah, when you put it like that it does all sound a bit fanciful," John nodded. "Even given these grand surroundings. So, since our friend The Definite Article tends to talk in code, I'll put it to you, Rose. Do you understand any of this?"

Rose glanced at the Doctor, feeling a bit helpless. "Well, I know it's about stoppin' entropy," she said hesitantly. "An' it's like…well… As I understand it, there's these equations, right, that make real, solid things out of mathematical numbers, an' somehow these equations got mixed up in your songs. So now it's like singin' your songs is the same as singin' these equations. Does that make sense?"

The Beatles glanced at each other, then shook their heads.

"No."

"Nope."

"Not a bit."

"Clear as mud."

"Then Doctor, you tell them," Rose said, frustrated. The Doctor glanced at her, then grabbed a beat up old egg timer from under the control panel, wound it up, and turned around.

"It's like this," he said quickly, his eyes darting distractedly from the Beatles to the egg timer to the monitor, where he'd magnified his view until he could see the crowds starting to gather around Fool's Hill far, far below. "The universe is a complicated system of precariously balanced dominos. When those creatures that attacked you punched through the boundary separating our expanding universe from the static seed universe that supplies its energy, they knocked down a few of those dominos. Those dominos toppled still more dominoes, which toppled still more dominoes, until now the entire structure of the causal nexus is unraveling like a torn knit scarf. Poof! Entropy. But we can reweave that scarf if we use the right block transfer equations. And in order for those equations to take effect, we need to feed them through a massive, living computer that can process each program and translate the information into physical matter without being altered by the equations themselves. That computer is that planet down there and its people are all the technical fiddly bits that make up the computer's central processing unit, like circuit boards and hard drives and graphics cards and other things most of you lot won't even hear of until at least the 1990s. Only thing is, due to a quirk of history, those people are wired to only accept equations that have been encoded in song. Your songs. In other words, if you sing on Liddypool Prime today, the reverberations will set the universal dominoes back to rights, and each piece will once again stand tall in its own designated place. Who knows—we might even resurrect a few!"

John puffed out his cheeks and let out a slow breath, rolling his eyes towards his friends. "See," he said, "what'd I tell you. Code."

"Now," the Doctor spoke over him as if he hadn't heard, leaving no room for questions as he crouched down and began lifting out the floor grate so he could climb under the controls, "we're really very short on time. Rose, quick, take our guests to the wardrobe. The TARDIS'll have their costumes ready when you get there."

"Costumes?" Paul repeated with a frown. "No one said anything about costumes."

"These people down on Liddypool Prime have a very specific idea of what you lads are supposed to look like," the Doctor spoke over his shoulder, buzzing away at the TARDIS's underbelly with his sonic screwdriver. "That image has been passed down through their mythology for millennia. If we're to stand a chance of convincing them you really are who we all know you are, we'll all have to look the part. Now go, get dressed! I've got to finish adjusting the chameleon circuit."

Rose started to lead the Beatles away, but George paused at the door, refusing to move a step further. "But wait! You still haven't said… Why us?" he asked. "Why our music? Why not Mozart or Elvis or…or the Rolling Stones even?"

"They chose you," Rose said simply. "They built their whole culture around your music an' your writings. Even the way they talk…it's all from you."

"Yes, but…" he trailed off, unsure just what he needed to ask. Rose understood, but she wasn't sure how to answer. Biting her lip, she tried, "I don't know exactly why… I—I reckon it's the message in your songs…that we can work things out, that all you need is love… They call you the Great Philosophers. The only problem is it's been such a long time they don't know the whole story anymore. Whole chunks of your histories have been lost. An' now they're fightin' because they can't agree if the facts say you broke up or not when we both know you did…or, at least, that you're plannin' to. That's why the creatures are after you, an' that's why we need you to get out there and set things straight. You're the only ones who can bring that world together—and they're the only ones who can 'reweave' our universe, like the Doctor said. Does that help?"

George rubbed his temples. "Not really. It's just makin' me head hurt."

"Then don't think about it," Rose said. "Jus' trust me. An' trust the Doctor. Come on, now," she said, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, "an' I'll show you to the wardrobe."

The Doctor's egg timer binged just as Rose and the Beatles filed back into the control room. The Beatles were now brightly dressed in psychedelically colored band uniforms, and all of them, including Rose, were carrying an array of instruments. As they marched in, Rose announced, "Presenting Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band!"

The Doctor had replaced the floor grate and was now standing on it, reaching far over the nearest panel to make some last-minute adjustments. Perfect!" he grinned at them, his bright eyes sparkling with adrenaline. "An' perfect timing too. Looks like my counterpart's done somethin' right. The crowds are in place and that huge satellite dish thing is online an' rarin' to go. Let's give this world a show they'll never forget!" he crowed, and punched down the lever to materialize his TARDIS some seven hundred meters above the old ruin on Fool's Hill.

Down on the planet, Sarah Jane Smith was standing on Fool's Hill, squinting up at the sky, when: "Harry, listen!" she exclaimed, grabbing her friend's arm. "I think it's the TARDIS!"

"Oh? Which one?"

Harry's question was answered a moment later when Four stepped out of his TARDIS's familiar battered blue doors. He was followed by a rather awestruck Frenk and Mary. "I told you she could get us here faster," the Time Lord was saying as he approached Sarah and Harry. "Quite a turnout, wouldn't you say?" he smiled at them. "And it's not just the factions that have turned up." He held up Ten's blocky scanner. "Those Nowhere Men creatures are here as well. They're staying just out of phase, so we can't see them. But they're there, waiting."

"Waiting for the Beatles?" Sarah asked. "Doctor, what do we do if they try another attack, like they did back at the Cavern?"

"They say that music hath charms to soothe the savage breast…or something of that sort," Four said. "We can only hope that effect we saw down in the caves was not an isolated incident."

Harry frowned. "You mean, if we get these people singing the right song, those creatures will turn back into people?"

Four shrugged, his blue eyes fixed firmly on the sky above the ziggurat's flattened peak. "We're dealing with block transfer equations here, Harry," he said. "Anything is possible."

Sarah nodded and came up beside him. "Doctor, have you heard anything from your…erm…counterpart?"

"No news yet," Four told her. "But if he was successful, I'd presume he'd be arriving here just about…"

A gasp rose from the gathered crowd, followed by shrieks and cheers. Sarah and Harry looked up, just in time to see a vivid yellow submarine descending dramatically through one of the holes in the sky.

"...now," Four finished, looking rather smug.

"By the light…" Frenk whispered, his eyes wide with awe. "By the light, it's real. Partly!" He called into the temple. "Partly, are you getting this, lad?"

"Thee pickture's clear unt transmuting across tea world," Partly called back.

"This is it, then," Frenk said, mopping his brow with a colorful handkerchief. "When that craft lands, the history of Liddypool Prime will change forever. Everything we believe in, everything we've fought over for so long…all our questions and doubts…"

Mary took his arm as he trailed off, his eyes fixed firmly on the submarine's porthole. "O, luck, tea door, sir!" she said, her voice tight with anticipation. "Eye think tea door ist opening!"

The noise from the crowds began to die down as head after head turned up towards the gleaming submarine in nervous anticipation. Sarah took Harry's hand and squeezed it hard. Despite her best efforts at self control, the young journalist was practically bouncing on her heels, her exhilaration rising with the door as the Beatles marched out in full costume and in full song. They marched to a thumping, squealing, clashing beat, its familiar sound projecting from the disguised TARDIS through the ruin's massive satellite dish to reach every peak and valley of the planet. The awe from the gathered crowd was palpable as the group began to sing:

It was three thousand years ago today,
Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play
We've been goin' in and out of style,
But we're guaranteed to raise a smile
So let me introduce to you
The act that started all these tears
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band!

At the base of the hill, two young men stood side by side. One wore sandy yellow, the other moldy green.

"Yore a Traditionalist, write?" the teen in the green uniform said. "Watt due ewe make off this? I mean, doo you rally think eats them? The Grate Philosopher?"

The Traditionalist scowled over at his faction rival. "Watt, arr you sayin' juice beclaws I'm a Traditionalist, tat means iams gullyable? Eats a scam! Eats gotta bee."

"Butt tea submarine!" a girl in an orange uniform spoke up. "Ant dee muzak! Hive never herd anytink lick it!"

"Sew just beclaus you've never herd eat, tat makes eat real?" the young Traditionalist scorned. "Watt a maroon."

"All this…eats juiced another poletickle con," a second, older Traditionalist said, stepping forward to back the first. "Mad ol' Frenk Fingletoad's up two some new trick. Listen! Tear knot even singin' tea right words! If ewe canned sea tat, ten mebbe it's true watt they say aboot yew Imaginists."

"Yeah? Unt watt's tat?" a burly Imaginist glared, pushing past the girl until he was standing nose to nose with the skeptical Traditionalist.

"Tat yore as soft in tea head asp ewe arr in your resolve," the man glared back, completely uncowed. "Iffryone nose yew lot couldn't take a stand iff yore feet were nailed too tea floor!"

The big Imaginist's dark eyes blazed, and he pulled his arm back, letting loose with a punch that knocked the cocky Traditionalist right off his feet. The man grunted and when he took his hands away from his face, everyone could see his nose was gushing blood.

"Right," the younger Traditionalist said. "Sew tat's how ewe lot want it!"

The young Traditionalist lunged at the nearest orange uniform, punching for all he was worth. Soon, punches were flying everywhere, and those who hadn't been sucked into the fray were taking up the cry: "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Erm, Doctor," Sarah Jane said, pulling at Four's sleeve. Four turned away from the music to look in the direction she was indicating.

"Off all the foolish…" he started, only to be cut off when a crack of gunfire burst from the battling crowds below. "Good grief!"

"This isn't working," Harry frowned nervously, watching as the fighting spread across the fields, an ominous ripple that threatened to become a wave. "They're not even listening anymore!"

"We must stop this," Four stated, marching straight for Ten's disguised TARDIS. "Now, before that field down there becomes a war zone."

"But Doctor—" Sarah started.

"Tell the Beatles to keep playing," he called over his shoulder. "I have a few things I need to discuss with myself."

"Not exactly the reception we expected, is it, Doctor," Rose was saying as Four strode into Ten's control room. "They've already gone from punches to bullets. What's next, grenades?"

"They may as well have set off a reality bomb for all the damage they're doing to the universe," Four commented darkly, coming up beside his counterpart. Ten poked his head out from under the control panel with a look of relief.

"Oh good, it's you," he said. "This outbreak of violence is an indication that that beam we're transmitting via that satellite dish isn't half as strong as we need it to be. But I have an idea."

"Reconfiguration?"

"Precisely," Ten nodded, tossing the Time Lord a crooked spanner. "The way I see it, in order to crank up the power of our transmission, we'll have to reconfigure our two TARDISes into time cone inverters so we can better translate the encoded block transfer equations into a precise playlist program that will essentially create a safe-zone—"

"—by applying temporal inversion isometry to as much of space time as we can isolate!" Four finished, his round eyes bright with inspiration (1). "Brilliant! You know, I actually think that could work."

"Then you see to things on your end," Ten said, taking his spanner back so he could make an adjustment to his controls. "I'm nearly done here. All I need is for you to transmit your link-up code and we're set."

"Consider it done," Four nodded, and strode down the ramp. Rose watched him go, then turned to Ten.

"Let me guess," she said, resting her chin on her palm. "You'll explain later, yeah?"

Ten looked over at her with a slightly pained expression. "Rose…" he started.

"Nah, 's OK," she smiled. "I think I actually got that bit about the playlist. Is this it here?" She pointed to a pale green and white striped piece of paper hanging limply out of a slot on the TARDIS's control panel.

"Yep," the Doctor nodded, tightening screws and testing gears as he spoke.

Rose gently lifted the print-out without tearing it free. "So, if I'm gettin' this then, this is the list of songs we have to get this world to sing if we're to set the universe to rights?"

"If the TARDIS translated the code right, then yes," Ten said. "Take that out to the Beatles. If this readjustment works, we should start to see the effects of those block transfer equations very soon."

"Right," Rose nodded and carefully ripped the playlist free. Rolling it into a cylinder in her hand, she jogged down the ramp and out the doors into a scene of utter chaos.

"Rose!" Sarah Jane called, waving her over to where she, Harry, Frenk, Mary, Partly, and the Beatles were huddling inside the ruined ziggurat to avoid the flying bullets. "The fighting's gotten worse. Much worse. The factions have a missile launcher now, and Partly's certain he heard someone calling for a tank over the radio!"

"It's because the satellite transmission's not strong enough," Rose told them. "At least, that's what the Doctors said. They're workin' on reconfigurin' their TARDISes now, but they need the Beatles to sing what's on this playlist."

"And risk gettin' shot?" Paul frowned. "I'm not goin' back out there, whatever that Doctor says."

"Then sing in here," Rose said. "It's the words that count, an' the music."

"Yeah?" John countered. "Fat lot of good that did last time. I doubt they even heard us."

"Well, jus' try again," Rose urged. "Jus' once more, yeah?"

"It's not like we have anything more to lose, old man," Harry said. "After all, if all this block-transfer mumbo jumbo doesn't work, we've all pretty much bought it anyway."

The Beatles shared a long look, then slowly began to nod. "One more song," John said, and shook his head. "We must be madder than a whole gaggle of hatters."

"You're not far off," Harry smirked.

"Here," said Rose, handing John the rolled-up playlist. "Jus' start from the top and work your way down."

"What's the first song, Johnny?" George asked, slinging his guitar back over his shoulder.

John looked over the playlist, then handed it to Paul, who propped it against his open guitar case. "'Think For Yourself,'" he said, and picked up his own guitar. "Everybody ready?"

Ringo readjusted one of his drums, then nodded. "Ready."

"Then in one, two, three, four…"

I've got a word or two
To say about the things that you do
You're telling all those lies
About the good things that we can have
If we close our eyes

Do what you want to do
And go where you're going to
Think for yourself
'Cause I won't be there with you

I left you far behind
The ruins of the life that you have in mind
And though you still can't see
I know your mind's made up
You're gonna cause more misery

Do what you want to do
And go where you're going to
Think for yourself
'Cause I won't be there with you

Although your mind's opaque
Try thinking more if just for your own sake
The future still looks good
And you've got time to rectify
All the things that you should…

"Look," Sarah Jane gasped as the Beatles played on. "Harry, Rose—just look out there!"

"What is it old girl?" Harry started, only to drop his jaw when he caught sight of the scene outside.

It seemed a forest had grown up in the field where the factions were fighting. It was a forest of flowering vines, and each plant had entwined in its coils several very startled-looking soldiers. Every weapon, every tank, every missile launcher was fully engulfed by lush green vines and bright blooms as broad as dinner plates.

"Oh God… Did we…? Was it our song that did that?" George whispered hoarsely, coming up beside them now the song was finished.

"The equations encoded in the song," Ten said, startling them all as he and Four strode up to join them. "That's the power of this place. You think the right thoughts in the right order, and they become real."

"Impossible," Paul gaped.

"Improbable," John corrected.

"And now that we've captured the attention of our target audience," Four said dryly, his round eyes panning over the singular scene, "I think it's time to let them in on the facts of their world."

"Quite right," Ten agreed. "Frenk?" He held out what looked like a small microphone. Frenk looked startled for a moment, then quickly shook his head.

"Oh no," he said. "They won't listen to me, Doctor. This is the kind of news that has to come from an outside source. And that's…" he gestured to the alien group, "you."

Ten nodded and took in a deep breath. "Right. Fair enough. Explanatory speech part 412, coming right up. On the bright side though, if I do get through to them, this'll probably be the last time I have to go through this speech."

"We can only hope," Harry muttered to Sarah Jane. She nudged him, but didn't disagree.

For all his seeming reluctance, though, the Doctor gave a rousing speech. It was passionate and honest, and just technical enough to sound convincing without going too far over the top. He told the people of Liddypool Prime about Logopolis, and the great purpose it had been designed to achieve. He spoke of its fall and the chaos that followed, and he explained the true purpose of the ancient satellite dish that still extended from the ruins on Fool's Hill; the same satellite dish the Logopolitans had once used to open voids to draw in energy from alternate realities so they could keep their fragile universe alive. He told them of their ancestors, and how the abandoned planet had adjusted its program to suit their minds and beliefs, terraforming itself to fit their shared dream of a perfect world. He introduced the Beatles one by one, and explained how the Logopolitan program was still working through their songs, and through the minds of every man, woman, and child on Liddypool Prime. And as the people listened, their bonds began to weaken until, by the time the Beatles stepped forward to speak out in support of the Doctor's words, the vines had disappeared completely. For the first time in more than half a century, the people of Liddypool Prime stood unified in their belief. And they were ready to do what was necessary to put the Doctors' plan into action.

"Then sing!" Paul shouted to the cheering crowds, knowing his words were being transmitted around the world. "Sing out loud! Sing as loud as you can! George—what's next on the list?"

George glanced back over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the playlist, only to cry out in alarm.

"Lads, behind you!" he shouted. "It's them—they're back! The creature things!"

"Blimey, there's dozens of 'em," Ringo exclaimed. "An' it looks like they're gettin' ready to attack!"

To Be Continued…

Reference:

(1) Quote paraphrased from Logopolis, by Christopher H. Bidmead, pg. 102-3.

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