Chapter 1: New Sun

The TARDIS spun and bounced through the time vortex like a cork in a stream before transitioning to normal space as it approached its destination, a beautiful emerald green and deep blue planet with no ice caps. As the TARDIS zoomed around the planet on an elliptical course, it passed through the night side shadow. Continents were outlined by a scattering of artificial lighting, a telltale sign of civilization. Within seconds the TARDIS was back in daylight, descending towards a large city.

The orange time-rotor rods glowed warmly as the Doctor walked around the TARDIS console, checking displays and tweaking the occasional setting. With a final groan, the TARDIS completed its landing sequence.

"Where are we?" Clara Oswald asked as she entered the console room from the lower level.

"A planet called Neuesonne, or 'New Sun' if you like," replied the Doctor as he looked up. "Boring name, but it stuck. It's a somewhat isolated settlement from Earth established in the early twenty-seventh century, nearly three hundred years ago present time. Almost no axial tilt so there are no discernible seasons. Tropical-like climate virtually all the way from the equator to both poles. Everyone here lives in peace. There hasn't been a conflict since colonization."

"Sounds ideal," smiled Clara. She turned and took a step towards the TARDIS doors when the Doctor interrupted.

"Not so fast, Clara. You can't go out like that! You'll frighten the horses. You need to change."

"Really?" replied Clara as she looked over her shoulder at the Doctor. "What should I wear then?"

The Doctor grinned. "That's the easy part. To blend in, don't wear anything."

Clara turned back around, a frown on her face. "What do you mean, 'don't wear anything?' "

The Doctor frowned in return, his gray eyebrows knitting together. "Did I say something difficult to understand? Your clothes stay here inside the TARDIS—all of them. Take off your kit. Don't wear a stitch. Be in your birthday suit. Wear only your smile," he said, while pointing to a brief grimace on his face.

He paused. "But keep your hair on. It would be odd to see you bald… or would that be an improvement?" he pondered as he gazed speculatively at her head.

Clara cocked her head, hands on hips, eyes narrowed. "You're winding me up, aren't you?"

"Not at all," the Doctor replied breezily. He waved his hands with excitement. "Think of it, Clara! Entire industries don't exist on this world. No fashionistas dictating hem lines, or if ties and lapels should be narrow or wide. No garment industry or clothing shops. No pointing fingers at people who cannot afford the latest fashion because one's own body is the fashion, and it's always in style!"

"You're telling me there's no such thing as clothing here?" Clara asked skeptically as she folded her arms. "No cloth at all?"

The Doctor huffed in exasperation. "Don't be silly! Of course there's a cloth industry. They do have things like sheets and towels you know. They're not savages; they simply don't make or wear clothes."

"Whyever not?"

"Didn't I say? Neuesonne was settled by a group of pacifists and the FKK, 'Free Body Culture' in English, originally a German naturist society. This planet is perfect for nudists. A comfortable temperature year round, the indigenous insects have no interest in biting humans, and the atmosphere blocks enough ultraviolet light to prevent sunburn. After generations of peaceful naturism, the people here view clothing as an ancient curiosity. Reading about clothing would no more motivate them to put on clothes, than you would be motivated to worship cats if you read a book on Egyptian mythology."

"My grandmother worships her cats," Clara muttered under her breath as she uncertainly fingered the buttons of her blouse. "Well, dotes on them anyway. Do you really think it would 'frighten the horses' if we stepped outside clothed?"

A smile showed on the Doctor's face. "No, that was a joke. To be sure, your appearance might be confusing, even upsetting, but not frightening."

"Ha! I can live with that," Clara said triumphantly as she pointed towards the TARDIS doors. "Let's go!"

The Doctor sighed. "Let me try again. The best way to experience another culture is to walk in their shoes—or no shoes as the case may be. Take this for example: right now, Clara, are you naked?"

"You know I'm not!" Clara said with dignity.

"Exactly!" said the Doctor as he stabbed his finger in the air to emphasize his point. "You have no reason to think of yourself as naked—"

"Because I'm not!" Clara interrupted.

The Doctor waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, yes! Your current state of dress is normal for you. And yet, we both know there are times and places when how you're dressed is not normal, and appearing in public like that will get you arrested. They might even characterize you as naked, but that wouldn't change your opinion about yourself, now would it? So what do we do? Rather than stir up unnecessary conflict, we dress to their standards. I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this."

Clara sighed and her shoulders slumped a little. "That we undress to Neuesonne standards."

The Doctor smiled and held out his hands. "Now you're getting it! If you did the other thing and played the obnoxious, foreign tourist in clothes pointing out they were naked, at best you would raise self-awareness. They might wonder why you were so rudely stating the obvious, but you wouldn't change any minds. All you would do is upset people because they don't 'feel' naked any more than you do."

"Hmm. I suppose it's all relative."

The Doctor grinned. "Precisely! You know, I really don't understand your obstinance this time. You were naked when we visited the Church of the Papal Mainframe, remember? Nudity was appreciated? You readily embraced the experience without hesitation."

"We were wearing holographic clothes last time," Clara said primly.

"You weren't 'wearing' anything. A holographic projection isn't clothing—it's an illusion; a sleight of hand, and a fine example of when your state of mind was more important than state of dress. This time, the training wheels are off, so to speak. No illusions."

"Illusions can be important," replied Clara uncertainly.

"Illusions can be seductive, like a drug," said the Doctor. "You don't need an illusion. All you need to do is take that first step. You will adapt. Within minutes you'll feel better, and before the day is over you'll wonder why you were so worried. By the time we return to the TARDIS, you may even regret having to put your clothes back on."

Clara laughed. "I'll never go that native." She paused for a few seconds, thinking it over.

To Clara, this wasn't at all the same as the Papal Mainframe visit for an unspoken reason—the real reason for her reluctance. The last time they went au natural was before the Doctor regenerated, when he at least appeared to be close to her own age, plus the Doctor had that right balance of innocence and naughtiness that made it all good fun. Clara would never say it, but she still missed her "old" Doctor. With his new, grandfatherly countenance, she could never again pass off the Doctor as her boyfriend—unless she wanted to truly shock her family.

Rationally, she knew the Doctor was the same person as before, but his latest incarnation and new personality had driven home to Clara just how alien he actually was. He was far more prickly than before—a cool, sometimes unsympathetic intelligence, though at times oddly vulnerable. That spark of fun—that sense of camaraderie she'd had before had yet to be fully rekindled.

And yet, in spite of all that, she wasn't ready to give up her travels with the Doctor. She'd already faced challenges and danger far greater than simply losing her kit, and as the Doctor had so huffily pointed out, it wouldn't be for the first time.

"Okay, let's do this before I change my mind."

She quickly kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned and removed her blouse, pulled off her skirt, and had unhooked her bra when she noticed the Doctor making no move to undress. He simply stood there, fiddling with the console, occasionally glancing over at Clara to check her progress.

"Hey! Why aren't you undressing?" Clara demanded as she held her bra in place with one hand.

The Doctor smiled. "I'm already undressed. Holographic projection, remember? Hang on, I'll switch it off."

"No, no," Clara replied hastily. "Your 'fighting' eyebrows are quite enough for now. Just… leave it switched on until we step out. I'd rather deal with you outside than inside the TARDIS."

The Doctor shrugged and turned his attention back to the console. With a deep breath, Clara tossed her bra to the floor, and quickly pulled off her remaining clothes. There. She had done it.

"Ready!" Clara called out. She had instinctively turned her back to the Doctor as she had finished undressing, and now looked back over her shoulder again, not ready to turn around.

The Doctor waved without looking up. "Go on then. Take a look outside and see what you think. I'll be along shortly."

"You want me to go out there now? On my own?" Clara said, feeling nervous and reluctant.

The Doctor glared and pointed at the TARDIS doors. "CLARA! OUTSIDE! NOW!" he barked like a drill sergeant.

Clara took off like a shot, snatched open both doors and ran outside without slowing down until she was far away. She was breathing hard, not from exertion, but out of rage. She stopped and turned around, her fists clinched.

"You could at least try to be nice!" she shouted back at the TARDIS. Only then did she begin to take in her surroundings.

It suddenly occurred to Clara that she had fled so blindly out of the TARDIS, for all she knew she could have been running into the middle of Trafalgar Square at the height of the tourist season, or onto a soccer field in the middle of a match surrounded by thousands of cheering fans. That would have been awkward.

Instead, she found herself standing on a manicured lawn, lush green grass luxurious under her feet, a few blades tickling between her toes. Clumps of trees provided shade. It was a warm day bordering on hot with scattered clouds. The sunshine did feel nice, she reluctantly admitted to herself. A light breeze played across her skin. It was tranquil and inviting.

Clara nodded her head as she looked around. "This could be good," she softly said to herself.

"Are you all right?" came from behind.

Clara jumped at the voice and turned around. A bald, middle-aged man looked at her curiously. He had a small towel in hand, which he used to mop sweat from his brow. It was the only piece of cloth in his possession.

"I… uh," Clara managed to say as her arms fluttered, initially starting to cover herself, but also fighting that impulse, because clearly the man in front of her was unconcerned about his own nudity. Instead, he simply seemed amused as Clara got her flapping arms under control and put them rigidly by her sides, then changed her mind and put one hand on her hip, swinging her elbow slightly.

Momentary panic managed, she looked at him again. For a middle-aged man, he was in reasonably good shape. Maybe he needed to lose a little weight, but not bad.

Eyes up! Clara thought, and gave her head a shake.

Feigning a casualness she did not feel, she finally replied, "I'm fine. Really. How are you?"

She immediately felt stupid.

The man smiled. "Offworlder, eh?" he said as he shook out his little towel and used it to mop off the top of his head.

Clara sighed and relaxed slightly. "Is it that obvious?"

"Oh yes. Visitors are easy to spot. Among other things, they can sometimes be a bit jumpy, and you sprang like a gazelle," he said with a smile.

"Must be travel fatigue," Clara quipped, not entirely sure if the man genuinely didn't understand why she might find it embarrassing to stand totally naked out in the open while chatting with an equally naked stranger in the middle of what appeared to be a city park.

The man's eyebrows flicked up. "Good point," he nodded. "I hadn't thought of that."

He really doesn't understand, Clara thought with wonder as she realized that from his point of view, this probably wasn't out of the ordinary.

While she had believed the Doctor to be sincere, she'd had her doubts if what he was saying was strictly accurate. They could have easily landed on the wrong planet, after all.

"Well, I should finish my run. Enjoy your visit," he said with a friendly wave.

"Wait!" called Clara as he turned to go. He paused and looked at her expectantly.

"Sorry, I'm afraid I've gotten turned around. Where am I?" She asked.

"Mahlsdorf Park," he replied. "There are information kiosks scattered around. You can't get lost. See you later."

Clara watched as the man jogged off. As he turned to follow a footpath, she realized he was wearing some sort of sandals that left the top of his feet mostly uncovered while protecting his soles. She looked down at her own bare feet, concerned.

The park lawn was comfy enough, but elsewhere? Walking barefoot on gravel or paved surfaces could be a challenge to her tender feet. She walked to the footpath the jogger took for a closer examination.

It looked like concrete, but that's where the similarity ended. It was free of cracks, irregularities, and most importantly swept clean of any small sticks or other debris that could hurt a bare foot. Even more surprising, when Clara stepped onto the footpath, it had a give and spring similar to an exercise mat. It was perfect for barefoot walking.

Clara smiled as she took a few steps back and forth, testing the footpath. She glanced up at the TARDIS off in the distance, perhaps a hundred yards away, parked under a thicket of trees. The Doctor was nowhere in sight. A pout crossed her face.

"You don't think I can do this. I'll bet you're standing by the console, waiting for me to come running." She turned her back to the TARDIS and began following the footpath as it gently curved off.

A moment later, Clara's determination nearly vanished when she heard voices up ahead. What if that jogger she met earlier was some sort of weirdo exhibitionist; an exception to the rule? Maybe she really shouldn't be out here naked. She looked back, but her lifeline, the TARDIS, was out of view.

As Clara considered hiding behind a tree, the decision was made for her as a couple holding hands came around the curve. Much to her relief, both of them were nude, and, she noted, barefoot as well. She gave them a stiff wave as they passed, which they loosely returned as they strolled on, too deep in their conversation to take any notice. Then a thought occurred to Clara that made her laugh out loud. Perhaps that jogger guy she met really was a weirdo—he was wearing sandals!

After that, Clara passed a woman walking her dog—at least, she thought it might be a dog, other couples out strolling, a group sharing a picnic, people sunning themselves, sitting on park benches, and more. Aside from that small towel the jogger had, she had yet to see a scrap of cloth since leaving the TARDIS, and only spotted one other person wearing low-profile sandals.

So far, this only established the park as clothing optional, with everyone opting out. What about everywhere else? Could she really leave the park? Walk the high street? Enter a shop?

More convincing was when she came to an amusement fair in the park, with food, rides, games, and other entertainments. There were easily two or three hundred people here, and still no clothes in sight.

The clincher was when she realized nude people were entering and leaving the park by way of an underground transit station marked with a large "U" sign. The scene was both amazing and quite ordinary at the same time. No one was "misbehaving," as she thought of it—a private fear she only now admitted to herself.

Yes, if someone caught her eye, both men and women gave her a full body glance as they passed by with a smile and nod, and she returned the favor. There was no sense of anything beyond a non-verbal acknowledgment of each other's existence. No one took a nod and smile as an excuse to act creepy or weird.

Once she stopped focusing on clothes, or rather, a lack of clothing, another curious thing struck Clara. Apart from the occasional person with a shopping bag, almost no one carried anything on their person. Women didn't carry handbags, nor men wallets—not that they had pockets. What did they do for money? At a guess, people here used some sort of virtual cash system.

Clara took a deep breath, smiled, and relaxed as she looked around. Her attention had been mostly on people, but now she began to notice other things, like the rows of tall buildings on different sides of the park. The park was quite large, but the city surrounding it must be huge, on the scale of New York, London, or Paris. Clara laughed as she tried to imagine Paris without its haute couture and fashion runways.

Finally, Clara noticed an open-sided booth with a flat screen inside displaying what she assumed was a screen-saver pattern. Was that an information kiosk? This was the third one she had seen, and each time, the blank screen started up a pattern as she passed by. As she watched the pattern on the screen change shape, it briefly flowed into something familiar—a line drawing of the TARDIS in white against a blue background—before dissolving into a new shape. The Doctor?

Clara stepped into the open booth. There were no visible buttons to push, so she tried touching the screen. The random pattern instantly changed into a map of the park, with a blinking dot labeled, "You are here." As Clara began to study the map, the screen changed once again to a video feed.

"There you are!" said the Doctor. "It's about time you paid attention to your surroundings."

Clara folded her arms. "You're still in the TARDIS!" she said accusingly. "I thought you were going to join me out here."

"I wanted to give you a chance to acclimate first," the Doctor replied. "Well? What do you think?"

Clara waved her hands and glanced around her before looking back at the screen. "So far, so good. I mean, here I am without a stitch, but when everyone is naked, well, it seems strangely normal—but it's also like a dream. I keep expecting to wake up and discover I'm the only one naked."

The Doctor smiled. "You're not dreaming, Clara—that's just a bit of culture shock. You'll get over it. Now, there's one more thing to do. Step a little closer to the screen, face centered… yes, that's it. Now press your right thumb to the blinking icon in the lower-right corner… look back up… hold it…."

A sudden flash caused Clara to step back and blink. "What was that about?"

"I've tapped into the galactic and local financial systems. You are now registered under your own name as a wealthy off-world visitor with an unlimited line of credit. Your biometrics are recorded for identification, and your passphrase is 'Impossible Girl.' "

"What? Why?" Clara said, stretching out the last word. What was the Doctor up to?

"Aren't you getting hungry or thirsty? You'll need a line of credit to buy things."

"Yes, actually, but it all sounds a bit much. I don't need an unlimited line of credit just to buy the local version of fish and chips."

"Fish and chips?" the Doctor snorted. "You're thinking like a school teacher on a budget."

"I am a school teacher on a budget!" Clara replied indignantly.

"And you'll need a place to stay. I've made a reservation at a hotel called the Grand Germania. Four stars, it says! You can use it as a base of operations while you investigate."

That put Clara on high alert. "Wait, what? Why have you...? Investigate what?"

"What are the odds of a planet being so perfect that clothes are never needed? It's astronomically, impossibly low! It's a mystery that begs for the Impossible Girl!"

Clara shook her head. "Why do we need money and a reservation—"

"Why does it say four stars?" the Doctor interrupted.

"What?" replied Clara, thrown off by the question.

"Neuesonne orbits a single main-sequence star, just like Earth. Even the most basic observation with the unaided eye will tell you that."

"Doctor…."

"It's not like there's a dwarf star or a black hole out there that might not be visible from the planet, and quaternary systems typically don't have planets."

"Can we get back to the—" Clara tried again.

"Unlike some colonization attempts, these people never lost their technology, and even if they did have a dark ages in their past, surely by now they would realize there's only one—"

"Doctor!" Clara called loudly, waving her hands in an attempt to get the Doctor's attention.

"Yes Clara?" the Doctor finally replied with an air of innocence.

"Why have you made reservations for us at a hotel?"

"Not us, Clara—you." The Doctor smiled and expansively held out his arms. "An all-expenses-paid holiday, covered by yours truly, on one of the nicest civilized planets in the galaxy. What could be better than a holiday with a bit of mystery on the side?"

Clara groaned in frustration. "Gee, I don't know," she replied. "How about asking me first!" she nearly shouted at the screen.

The Doctor gritted his teeth. "I'm trying to patch things up here," he growled, "and the whole point of a surprise is that it be kept secret! Otherwise, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? And besides," he said as he waved a hand, "your soldier boy, Pinky, said you needed a holiday."

"That's Danny, and I'm sure he meant we needed a holiday, as in the two of us together!"

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, then closed it in thought, scratching his chin. "That… is a possibility I had not considered," he admitted. He shook his head. "I can never be sure where humans are concerned. Besides, I started planning a surprise for you before I knew about him."

The Doctor brightened up. "Well, there's only one solution—you shall have two holidays!" he said, waving a finger, his eyes gleaming. "You can do the next one with Pinky. Well I must dash. I'll jump forward a fortnight to pick you up. Cheery-bye!"

The screen went blank.

"Oh no you don't!" Clara shouted at the screen. She turned and ran as fast as she could, dodging amusement park goers and back up the footpath, surprising several strollers along the way in her headlong rush.

Clara never heard the TARDIS leave. By the time she got back, it was long gone.