CHAPTER 4: Family Ties
With furious energy, the Doctor darted around each and every side of the TARDIS console, pressing and rotating a flurry of switches and dials. He addressed Rory and Amy, but kept his attention focused directly in front of him. "It's all hands on deck for this one," he said. "Amy, hold that lever there until I tell you. Rory, over here. Both hands on this. Firm grip. Don't let go. And me..."
The Doctor darted over to the central keyboard, where his fingers became a whirlwind as they typed in a series of commands. "I'm crossing every crossable thing that this works."
He punched in the final keystroke and heaved a nearby lever downwards. Instantly, the TARDIS came to life in a lurching shudder, the wheezing rhythm of the engines sounding more guttural, denser, than normal. If a look outside the craft were possible, it would be seen to be travelling through space at a blistering speed, spinning on its axis at a rate so fast that its shape was nothing more than an formless blur.
Inside, its occupants were thrown around every which way. Violent, jarring motions rocked the TARDIS, rapidly growing to take on a distinctly more dangerous edge. Even the Doctor, normally the one who would find a certain degree of delight in the rocky, roller-coaster movements of TARDIS travel, found himself beginning to sweat. This felt different. Dangerous.
The sound of the engines grew; Rory had to raise his voice to be heard over the racket. "Can't you make this thing less noisy?"
"And less bumpy?" said Amy.
The Doctor hastily swept his hair from his eyes. "This 'thing' was designed to travel through time and space. Time and space. We're going to a place that has neither. We're might as well be using a car to drive to the moon. So, please, pardon me if things jolt a bit more than usual."
As if on cue, the TARDIS vibrated violently, rattling its occupants. The Doctor steadied himself on his feet while Rory was nearly sent to the floor. He looked at the Doctor in exasperation. "Never a dull moment," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"Pointless if there were," said the Doctor.
The interior lights flickered. Sparks exploded from the console, sending a blinding stream of hot metal shards into the air. And somehow, from above, crackles of forked blue lightning boomed and crashed into the brass railing nearby. The impact was deafening. Amy screamed.
The Doctor continued to work the controls as his brow furrowed in frustration. "Oh dear. Wherever we're going, there's no red carpet - and by red carpet, I mean clear materialisation point. There's nowhere for us to land; it's all occupied somehow." He squinted at the monitor. "I can't make it out... some kind of dense forest, maybe? Or possibly a full car park? No, that doesn't sound right — wait, I'm picking up some sort of structure. Massive. Solid. Well, mostly solid. Somewhere inside it is a hollow area. A small room of some type. It's eye-of-the-needle stuff, but if I bring her in right, if the spacial distribution analysers haven't been fried, and if we're very, very lucky—"
"Just land!" screamed Amy.
"Oh, don't worry — that's going to happen one way or another."
The Doctor put all his energy into steering and manipulating every piece of console equipment within reach. A massive groaning noise, like bending metal, reverberated throughout the TARDIS. As though the very structure of the craft was being stressed and bent to within a hair of breaking point. As though it was being pushed to the very limit. Beyond it.
"Rory, turn to the right!" The Doctor twisted two dials in tandem as he kept a close eye on the console monitor. "Amy! Flip that lever!"
Amid the mayhem they did as directed, and the TARDIS lurched at a sharp, sudden angle. The three scrambled to maintain their footing. "Hold on!" said the Doctor. "Almost... there..."
The lights went out. Total darkness.
An almighty crash shook the TARDIS from wall to wall; big and heavy, and full of a deep echo. It rang throughout the entire cabin, the sound lingering for what seemed like an eternity. It eventually faded, and for a moment, that was it. Nothing happened. Silence.
Then, gradually, finally, the lights faded back into their full brightness.
The Doctor, like Amy and Rory, found himself thrown to the floor of the TARDIS. He slowly picked himself up and straightened his jacket with shaking hands. "Anyone who isn't breathing, say something." A brief moment passed without an answer. "All breathing. Good. Whew. That was fun, wasn't that fun? I thought it was fun." The pretence did little to mask the tinge of apprehension that filtered into his voice. "But enough of the fun. We're here. Wherever 'here' is."
"Where's your best guess?" said Rory.
"Honestly, my best guess would be nowhere. We're off the map in pretty much every regard. A timeless realm. Which, in both the good way and the bad way, means we've got no time to lose." He called out over his shoulder. "Miranda! Come out here and be amazing."
Dainty footsteps sounded above as Miranda emerged from an upper corridor. She descended the stairs and joined the three at the console; her eyes lingered between Rory, the Doctor and Amy. Together, they approached the TARDIS doors, and between them, they could feel the tension build as they stood at the exit, waiting. The Doctor closed his fingers around the latch, preparing himself for whatever faced them on the other side. He looked among his friends. "Ready?"
Amy looked concerned. "What do we do if we—"
He didn't wait for an answer. The Doctor flung the door open, ready to pounce like a coiled spring, but was instead faced with little more than a dank, cold space of darkness and mildew. The only light came from what spilled out from the TARDIS interior, illuminating their surroundings just enough to reveal thick stone walls in all four directions, and an extremely low stone ceiling hanging just overhead. No ambush, no surprises. Just a dark, cold room, totally empty.
The Doctor put a tentative step outwards, peering his head left and right to take in what was on offer. "Hmm..." was all he said.
Rory and Amy emerged from behind him, and Miranda behind them. "Where are we?" she said. "It looks like a cave."
Rory put his hand to a wall. He brushed the stone surface, feeling it with his fingertips. "There's join seams between the stone. Like a grid."
"Eye of the needle," said the Doctor. "We're inside a building."
He produced his sonic screwdriver from a jacket pocket and lit the tip. A brilliant green hue helped to light the space further, affording the group a better look at their surroundings. Sure enough, the artificial construct of the stonework was evident, with blocks upon blocks conveying a clear sense of their deliberate placement.
The light also revealed a series of simple torches build into small recesses on the walls. The Doctor amplified the screwdriver, causing it to emit a high pitched electronic squeal. The effort caused the nearest torch to spontaneously combust, flickering to life in a solid orange flame. It caused a chain reaction; that torch sparked its neighbour alight, and the torch next to it, and so on, until bursts of fire wrapped around the entire room. The torches continued to ignite into a narrow hallway that was revealed towards the far wall, and as the light increased, it was shown to be more than a hallway - it was a staircase. Steep, narrow stairs climbed upwards in a tight spiral, and behind them, a second flight of a similar build went downwards.
The Doctor pocketed his screwdriver and gestured towards them. "Shall we let Yazz guide our way?"
Silence. Confusion. Amy, Rory and Miranda each stared at the Doctor in bewilderment.
"Yazz? The singer?' The Only Way Is Up'? 1988, biggest single of the year?" The Doctor sighed. "Oh, whatever. Up, up, let's go up. Blimey, you lot change your pop culture references more often than you change your socks."
Amy gave the Doctor a sympathetic pat on the arm. "You stick to saying things like 'Geronimo', grandad. Let us young pups take care of the rest."
Single file, with the Doctor in the lead, they began to climb the stairs. Tight confines gave the spiral a distinctly claustrophobic feel; each step was barely wider than their shoulders. Rory looked at his feet. "These stairs are so smooth," he said. "The stone... it's as though it's been worn down by thousands of feet."
"Since when were you the stone expert?" said Amy.
"Hush, puppies," said the Doctor over his shoulder. "There's an opening ahead."
The steps spiralled up to a square hole. One by one, they climbed up and out, emerging onto a massive open stone platform — an enormous square, its surface unnaturally smooth and even, with edges that seemed to lead to a sheer drop on all sides. A pitch black sky loomed overhead, and a persistent wind blew through their hair. Evidentially, they were outside, and from their vantage point, it was clear that they were high up, towering above the ground atop this colossal structure. And the surface, big as it was, made them appear to be the size of ants in comparison.
Before them, built into the middle of the platform, was what appeared to be a giant stone capsule or bulb. It jutted up from the surface like a large cylinder, smoothed down all sides and rounded at the tip, and intermittently lit their surroundings with pulses of blue energy, fading in and out like a lung breathing light instead of air. There was no sound, and no evident power source. Just a glowing stone bulb, ominous and silent.
The Doctor approached it, his face one of pure fascination. "This is new," he said in wonder. He put his hand out to touch it — cautiously at first, then resting his entire palm against the stone. Despite the light emanating from it, it felt cold to the touch. The Doctor cocked his head. "What are you, then? A beacon? An energy transmitter?"
In an effort to better gauge his surroundings, Rory toed his way to an edge of the platform. He looked down, his jaw agape as he realised just how far up they were, and he immediately reeled back from the edge. From their height, those things below looked like little—
He stopped, did a double take, and looked down again, then further out into the distance. They were there alright. Somehow. Rory blinked in amazement, not daring to believe his eyes. Not daring to believe what he saw.
Amy joined his side. "What does the stone expert have to say about this grand specimen?" she said, her voice woven with playful teasing.
Rory answered by pointing into the horizon. Amy followed his finger. She looked. She gasped.
"Doctor! You need to see this right now!"
Her voice echoed into the vast nothingness, loud and urgent. The Doctor stepped back from the pulsating blue bulb and joined Amy and Rory at the edge of the platform, with Miranda following him behind. "What's the fuss?" he said.
Amy looked at the Doctor; she was in the midst of processing what her brain was on the verge of disregarding as pure fantasy. "What's the plural of TARDIS?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Well, I don't know. TARDII? TARDISes? I've never had more than one. Why do you ask?"
She took a step to the side, allowing him to take in the full view of what laid before them. "You've got more than one now."
The Doctor looked out into the distance. He froze on the spot, his brain searched desperately for the right words. It couldn't find them. Instead, it settled for the simplest; the first ones it landed on.
"My... horseradish..."
A faint glowing haze, right down at ground level, extended as far as the eye could see — and even though their height put them far above it, there was no mistaking the source. Stretching from the base of the stone structure right out to the horizon, in every direction, was a sprawling mass of TARDISes. A sea of colours and patterns differentiated them — a red TARDIS, a black TARDIS, a metal TARDIS, an army camouflage TARDIS — yet all of them bore the same distinctive shape, one nestled against the next, totally filling every square inch of land.
The same police box, in a host of different designs, repeated into infinity.
Miranda, Rory, Amy and the Doctor all stared open-mouthed at the array. And then, suddenly, a scratchy voice cut into the depths of their thoughts with one single word:
"Welcome."
The voice sounded crackled. Ancient, but far from frail. It sounded as though it was speaking through frayed vocal cords which, either by design or accident, gave it a definite twist of malevolence. Like twisted nails down a scratched blackboard.
The Doctor looked around them. The voice seemed as though it was coming from every direction at once. From within their heads as well as outside them. "Who said that?"
"We are not a who. We are eternal. And we welcome your arrival."
"Doctor, that voice," said Amy. "It's in my head."
"Mine too," said Miranda.
"It's everywhere," Rory said.
"We were summoned," said the Doctor. "We've only arrived here because were given directions to come. Directions from you, I take it."
"Indeed. We require you. We have always required you."
The Doctor looked around. "What's this 'we' business? Is there more than one of you?"
"We are single, but many. We are eternal. We have always been."
He raised his tone as he addressed the empty air. "What is this place?"
"The place where you find yourself, ever and always."
"Great," said the Doctor. "Another cryptic Carol."
"We are not a cryptic Carol. We are—"
"Yeah, you're eternal, and a humourless one at that. I've had wrong numbers that were more entertaining than you. Alright, let me give you an easy one." He pointed into the distance, at the landscape that stretched into the horizon - at the thousands upon thousands of TARDISes, each with their different colours and patterns. He spoke with attitude, with a demanding tone; one that was longer entertaining a conversation of roundabouts.
"Explain that."
A tense moment passed without response. Amy and Rory exchanged wary glances. The Doctor remained posed, still pointing. Still waiting for an explanation. Then, in a raspy crackle, the voice spoke a simple, familiar phrase:
"Silence will fall."
For a time on June 26 2010, no one was present in the TARDIS. Should anyone have been inside, they would have heard that voice speaking that very phrase as a telltale crack splintered across the TARDIS monitor. The Doctor, however, was not. But even so, he knew those words. His eyes went wide. "What?"
"You, Doctor. You always were, and ever will be, the harbinger of time's destruction. And we always have, and ever will have, one sole purpose: to prevent it. An order of our design has spent an eternity on efforts to save existence from you. And we believe you have now seen how desperate they've become. Yet you fail to see the bigger picture."
"The bigger picture?"
"You know of the cracks, of the ruptures throughout all of time and space. You know of the infinite number of parallel universes that are threatening to collapse into each other through those cracks. But you do not know what has always needed to happen in order to prevent it."
The faint haze from the horizon pulsated, lighting up the landscape and truly revealing the sheer volume of craft that occupied every square inch of land. "Your TARDIS. A craft that exists within the very fabric of time itself. Such power is the only thing that can be harnessed as a means to resist the collapse of a stream of infinite worlds. And the more parallel universes that are created, the more TARDIS energy is needed to keep the collapse at bay. Fitting, then, that every universe comes with its own version of your craft."
Rory stepped forward, addressed the clear sky. "Wait. So you lured us here, just so you can use the energy of the TARDIS?"
"I only gave you the means to come," said the voice. "It was always your destiny to arrive. Universes upon universes of possibilities ever are and always will be... yet invariably, you find your way here. You always have. You always will."
"You're an unstoppable force against an immovable object," said Miranda. "You attract TARDISes so you can use them-them to barricade reality against the collapse of parallel worlds. But to prevent the collapse you need parallel worlds to exist so you can-can attract their TARDISes." She stared in amazement. "You're destined to do this-this forever."
"And we have done," said the voice. "And so we will continue to do."
"You blew up my TARDIS," said the Doctor, finally finding the right words. "'Silence will fall'. It was you. You blew it up — you caused these cracks."
"An order of our design—"
"You caused the leaks from one parallel universe into the next. This is your fault. And now you need my TARDIS to stop them?"
"We have needed the energy of your TARDIS long before its destruction was ever a notion. Effect before cause. Surely a Time Lord of all people knows how that works."
"I know a lot of things," said the Doctor. "I'm clever that way. And you know what else is clever? Not handing my TARDIS over to any old voice in the sky. You said so yourself: universes upon universes of possibilities. What if I'm from the one where the Doctor says no?"
"Look around you. TARDIS after TARDIS, each from a different parallel universe. You come here, every time. Every time you learn of the consequences, and every time you acknowledge the need to surrender. Every time it is the same." A pause. "But not this time."
A pause. All eyes were on the Doctor.
"The woman. She is not of a species. She is new. This... confuses us."
And with those words, all eyes were immediately on Miranda.
She looked among the group, felt their penetrating gaze. For a brief moment she shrunk into her shoulders, as though trying to shy away from the sudden barrage of scrutiny. She looked around her, then up at the sky, as she tried to figure out where to address an unseen, ever-present voice. "Even TARDISes from parallel universes need to have-have a Doctor piloting them," she said, the effort an apparent move to change the subject. "So if all those TARDISes out there are belong-belong to alternate versions of the Doctor... how did they all leave?"
"Effect before cause?" said Amy. "Time doesn't seem to have any place here, so maybe the TARDISes are here before their journey has begun?" She paused. "Or something. This timey-wimey business is too wibbly-wobbly."
The voice only replied with a twisted cackle.
The Doctor was musing through a rapid stream of thoughts. "Power... timeless plane... entity..." He finally settled on an idea.
"You've got infinite universes at your fingertips, assuming you have fingertips. Infinite TARDISes for you to use — TARDISes that could be anywhere and anywhen at any given moment. TARDISes that you need to track down and lure to your little timeless playpen. So tell me, Carol, how did you send those numbers? I mean, how did you find me at all?"
Another cackle. Clearly, the voice was revelling in its knowledge.
"Just as a Time Lord has a connection to his TARDIS, we have a connection to the Time Lord. A direct link. A bond. One that ties directly to you in heart, mind, body and soul. After all, who better to find a Time Lord than one of his own?"
With those words, the sound of stone grinding against stone filled the air. The group looked behind them to see the giant bulb, still pulsating with blue energy, slowly moving upwards, as though it was being pushed from below. As it rose, its form was better revealed: the bulb was solid and rounded at the top, but tapered at the base to a diamond-like point supported by two vertical stone beams. Between those beams, beneath the diamond point, was a stone chair. And sitting in that chair, tightly secured by a tangled mess of copper wires coursing with wild blue energy, was a person.
A woman.
She was writhing in pain, thrashing her head from left to right. A head of short black hair, cut to a tidy fringe. Wearing a simple grey shirt, fitted with a round high black collar.
It had been years. Centuries. It had been ten regenerations since he had seen that woman. Ten regenerations since he had uttered her name. But in an instant, in the coldest pang of shock that could slam into his stomach, the Doctor knew exactly who she was.
"Susan," he whispered.
"Yes," said the voice, barely restraining a gleeful cackle. "Your... own... granddaughter."
CHAPTER FIVE COMING SOON!