Twas The Night Before…
888
"Pris-on-er Sev-en - Sev-en - Eight will stand for-ward! FOR-WARD!" screeched the bronze tank loudly.
The glowing light at the end of the eyestalk focused on the old man in front of it. It was a rotund man, old, with white hair both facial hair and a receding crop on top of its head. The hair was stringy now but had the memories of its prior curls.
The man slowly stood forward lifting his arms up, showing the code on the shackles that clanked around his wrists. The tank lifted a plunger-like manipulator arm that hummed as the plunger twisted, scanning the code. There was a beep and the tank turned its bauble-covered body and glided to the next prisoner.
"Pris-on-er Sev-en - Sev-en - Nine will stand for-ward! FOR-WARD!" Intoned the tank to the next prisoner. That prisoner stepped forward and was scanned and the tank continued down the line.
Another tank, this one cast in black glided back and forth in front of the line of prisoners. The blue light of its eye-stalk mounted camera scanning over them, judging them. It's blue light fell upon the old man and held, focusing and unfocusing several times.
The old rotund man had been there for a long time. Captured in the middle of the twenty-second century during the Daleks' first invasion of Earth. He'd been helping leading a resistance cell, trying to protect the children of the planet from the devastation when he had been captured over the Arctic Ocean. Ever since he'd been held here on an asteroid somewhere in the darkness. The Daleks had quickly realized his aptitude with tools and manufacturing. He had been quickly put to work doing menial maintenance duties, working on bits and bobs. At first he'd tried engaging in sabotage but the Daleks had responded with torture and then with the targeted murder of his fellow prisoners, and then finally the murder of children, forcing him to watch. That had broken him. They had finally came to an agreement, he would help them build their machines, if they didn't hurt the children.
"You - will work in the fac-tor-y to-day!" announced the black Dalek as it stared at the rotund old man. It then turned its 'head' as it turned its attention to the other prisoners in the line. "You will con-struct more cas-ings for the Da-leks! You will work hard, you will o-bey, or you will die!"
"We're already dead!" shouted one of the prisoners. "Why should we help you any further!?"
The old man looked up. It was a newcomer, captured only a couple of days ago. The old man's weary eyes closed slightly as he shook his head. The black Dalek looked to the newcomer. One of the bronze Daleks glided up and spoke.
"This one has an off-spring." the bronze Dalek reported.
"Bring - it - for-ward!" the black Dalek said.
A few minutes later a girl was pushed forward from the cell blocks. She was crying and terrified. Her dirty face was likely once beautiful and fresh. Her blue eyes were tinged with red, from crying. Her blonde hair was a sickly brown from the dirt.
"Leave her alone!" shouted the old man. "You promised!"
"A les-son must be learned-" replied the black Dalek as its eyestalk turned to the old man. The Dalek then turned to the girl.
It lifted its gun stalk and fired a bolt into the girl's leg. The girl fell to the ground screaming in pain as her leg sizzled and smoked.
"O-bey and the fe-male off-spring will be healed." It turned its eyestalk back to old man. "It will be re-turned to an un-harrrmed stat-us." the black Dalek stated, as its head turned and the eyestalk focused on the newcomer, before scanning over the other prisoners. "Con-tin-ue to re-sist and it will be ex-term-in-at-ed! ALL OFF-SPRING WILL BE EX-TERM-IN-ATED! The fate of the off-spring will be made by the pro-gen-i-tors!"
"Please…I'll do anything just…please help her, please…" the newcomer cried and moved to walk to the girl only for a Dalek to push in front of him and force him back into line.
The Dalek looked to the old man. The old man looked away and fell back into line. The black Dalek looked to one of the bronze Daleks. The subordinate Dalek forced the girl onto her hands and knees and led her away, crawling like a wounded dog across the ground. The old man furrowed his bushy eyebrows and shook his head. Deep down inside something huge and terrifying was thrashing to get out but he tensed himself against it. He'd already learned that if he wanted to protect people the best way was to keep the Daleks satisfied. Resistance was useless, at least for right now.
The old man felt the plunge push into his back. He grunted. The Daleks started pushing the line of prisoners towards the factory. The old man looked up at the giant, burning, industrial engines and heaved a sigh.
They worked hard. They always worked hard though, day in and day out. The Daleks only gave them the briefest of breaks, and largely only because even in their insane minds they understood that basic efficiency only came with basic acquiescence to some biological needs, food, water, sleep, but only the least of each of these. He laid on the floor in the corner of his cell. Some straw was all that was afforded him for comfort, but that was layered thickly in the opposite corner. He quietly struck a piece of flint with a small blade he'd made from a utensil. The flint was slowly taking the shape of a small animal. There was a whole zoo of the creations hiding under the straw, waiting for the day when he would pass them out to the children. His eyes were heavy with tiredness, but sleep was impossible. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments rubbing the bridge of his nose. Instantly, he could hear the crying and the sobbing, the gnashing of teeth as others lost their faith, wailing in the creeping realization that they may never leave this place alive. He slowly opened his eyes. He felt someone watching him and he looked up to find a face against his bars. A small face, a child's face. It was dirty and smudged like so many others in the camp. A little boy's face. He couldn't hardly believe it.
"Are - are you real?" the old man asked as he stood, cautiously.
"Are you?" the child asked looking through the bars.
The man chuckled softly, as he looked at the child. It was the first time in so many years he'd had laughed, it wasn't even a laugh of merriment but simply of surprise.
"How did you get here?" the old man asked quietly.
"The Daleks took me, or rather I came with them." the child said looking at the old man. "I came for you."
"For me?" the old man said incredulously, looking at the child with furrowed brows.
"I know who you are. Who you really are." the child said looking through the bars its small hands curling around the bars. "You disappeared so long ago, crash landed on some backwoods world all those centuries ago, you forgot who you were, what you were, everyone else thought you were dead, but I never forgot about you."
There was a twinge in the old man's head, a pain, a sharp twang that splintered across his scalp. The old man shook his head.
"I don't know what you are talking about." The fat old man said, turning from the child.
"In a place like this, and you still look the way you do." the child said, though his voice was less cherubic and more investigatory. "Never was a better weight loss diet than what the Daleks give you in their prison camps. Yet you're…"
"I have a glandular…problem…" the old man said, closing his eyes as the twang hummed in his head.
"You fell to Earth all those years ago, you became the protector of that world's children…" the child continued. "All those centuries you stayed on that world, you changed from who you were at home, but you were always a tinkerer and you still are, even here. The Daleks realized this. They've indulged you in your delusions, to keep a someone of your caliber on staff…"
"Someone of my caliber?" the old man said shaking his head. "I have no idea what you're…"
"You really think you're him, don't you?" the child said, almost mockingly. "You really think you're that moldy, old saint don't you!? We both know better!"
"Someone has to keep watch over the children, protect their childhood." the old man said shaking his head. "I try my best, but here, even the hope of children can die, that's why I have to continue to work here, I have to at least keep an eye on them." His eye twinkled in the twilight as he looked at the child, he sighed and looked to the corner with the straw and then to the child. "Who are you?"
"Someone that can break you out of here…" said the child. The child gripped the bars and pulled, tearing the bars from their fixtures as if they were tissue paper.
"How did you get past the guards?" the old man said staring in shock as the boy dropped the bars on the ground and stepped into the cell.
"I'm a Time Lord, directly implanted into a TARDIS control matrix of course." the child said with a crooked smile, a little too crooked to be anything but menacing. The child flourished his hand and as he did small flecks of gold spun out from the sleeves of his ragged shirt forming a scimitar. "Add a little nano-tech and I'm quite the anti-Dalek superweapon. Snuck in with the shipment of children, slipping through the shielding, quietly killing Daleks after I got out of my cage. Fairly simple really, once you're inside. I've come to get you out of here." The child's dark eyes fell upon the old man. "Don't worry, I can save you. Think of it as a Christmas gift. It is Christmas Eve back on Earth…isn't it?"
The old man took a step backwards in surprise. He looked to a brick wall where scratches were etched in the brickwork. "No, impossible, is it really? I can't believe I forgot."
"Well then it's good luck that I found you when I did; we can make it back before it's Christmas…" The boy said as he walked towards the old man. He held out his hand. "So then, let's go."
"No, not me, not first, you have to save everyone else first!" the old man said shaking his head as he turned away from the child.
"That's not part of the mission…" the child said, closing his eyes and dropping his hand. "You, and only you are getting a ride out of here. So says the man upstairs."
"No!" the old man growled. "First and foremost, we save the children."
"These whelps aren't worth the saving!" the child grumbled, tapping his scimitar.
"They are to me." The old man said, his voice rumbling like thunder. "The children always were important to me, the most important."
"I can't!" the child said, stepping in front of the old man. The child looked up at the old man. "The Daleks will find out about me soon, and I can't fight them all, not by myself. I simply cannot save everyone."
"Please…" The old man looked down at the child. "Give this old saint one last chance to deliver a Christmas miracle…"
"I said I can't!" The child replied.
"Then leave without me." the old man said, crossly. "I refuse to leave the children here alone by themselves, I'm their protector, or the closest thing they have to one in this place."
"Fine…but only the children…if it will get you out of here…" the child said, with a loud sigh. "I'll be back soon…"
The old man nodded and watched as the child ran out of the cell. Within minutes, klaxons started going off. There was the sound of shooting and Daleks were screaming. The old man clasped his hands together and prayed quietly as he listened to the sounds of fighting echoing through the halls. He heard the sound of running footsteps and before long the child was standing in front of him. He was huffing and puffing. His arms were charred, his hair was burnt.
"Where…where are the…?" The old man said looking at the child.
"I have them, inside." the child said in annoyance, pointing to his chest. "TARDIS…remember!" The child said indicating to himself. "God, you really don't know anything anymore do you? That crash must have really ruined your head."
There was a bright light that seemed to emanate from the child and before the old man knew it he was in some sterile room, surrounded by a gang of children. The children were all staring up at him, their eyes filled with tears.
"Oh…" The old man said slightly in shock. He looked at the children and then shook his head. "Now, it's ok, we're going to get out of here." The old man said as he patted their heads. "I promise you, that we'll all be taken far away from the Daleks."
"But what about my daddy…?" one of the children asked. The old man turned and looked down and saw it was the girl from earlier, the one the Daleks had shot. The girl was sitting on a chair. Her leg was still black and blistered from the Dalek weapon. The old man took a deep breath to hold down the anger inside, and swallowed.
"I'm sorry…" The old man knelt down and hugged the girl close.
He looked to the other small faces, all of them teary-eyed. He looked around the room and saw a work desk with tools. He slowly stood up and walked slowly to the desk. There were little bits and bobs of things, nothing substantial but maybe with a bit of work they had a potential. He started doing the one thing he knew how to do, and before long had finished the first little robot. He turned and handed it to one of the children, a little boy.
"What's this?" the boy asked looking at it.
"Oh just a toy to pass the time." The old man explained. "You see you wind it up here…" the old man said as he twisted the key on the back of the little robot. He released it and the little device walked forward waving it arms as the key turned. The boy laughed as he watched the little robot go. The old man smiled. "Now, just give me some time and I'll make a little something for every last one of you…"
The old man worked hard, harder than he'd worked for years, and soon enough each child had one bauble or another, some flew, some danced, some sang. Each one individual to that child. He laughed heartily as he watched the children mesmerized by the devices. They traded them, and played with them together. For some it was the first toy they'd seen in years, for others it was the one comfort they'd had since they're families had been taken by the Daleks. The children were soon laughing and singing and playing, all except the one girl. The old man walked over to her. She had been given a small robot that looked superficially like a ballerina.
"Do you not like your toy?" the old man asked.
"It's…it's very nice thank you but…" The girl looked up at the old. Her eyes were limpid with waiting tears. "But where's my daddy?"
The old man knelt down, getting down to the girl's eye level. "I wish I could get your father. It's just I…"
The little girl nodded quietly as she stared at the ballerina, and the old man couldn't find any more words. Off in the distance there came a reverberating sound as if great gears were grinding. There was a slight bump, and a gong that intoned. One of the walls of the sterile, changed, becoming a pair of doors that swung wide open. As they did, snow swept into the room and a cold breeze rushed in. The children all shivered. The old man walked towards the open doors. He slowly beckoned the children to follow as he stepped out onto the sea ice. He turned as the last of the children moved past him and saw the boy that had rescued him slowly turning from kneeling position and slowly standing straight, arching his back as if stretching. He was in new clothes, black clothes with a long black cloak that he curled around the slight frame of his body. His pale face looked up at the old man with his dark, coal-like eyes.
"So do you think this counts as being nice then?" the boy asked. His dark eyes looking in the old man's. The boy smirked, putting his hands behind his head. "Cuz, if so, it's been a long time since I've been on that list…"
"Nice? Of course!" the old man said. "But you shouldn't have dropped us off here…we'll freeze!"
The boy smirked and pointed. The old man turned and saw it, a giant, red sleigh. Tethered to the sleigh were nine reindeer. The old man turned around to look to the boy but the child had disappeared. The old man quickly ushered the children to the sleigh and with a quick incantation the sleigh took off. He quickly found a town and landed, leaving the children with some authorities. He looked down at the girl with the ballerina. She nodded numbly to the nurse who was inspecting the little girl. Something cold burned in the old man's chest. Something feral, something primal, something ancient and filled with righteous rage. There was something he had to do….
888
Klaxons were going off for the second time that night. The black Dalek was gliding across the command room demanding reports. It was infuriated at the prison break from earlier. Already it had sentenced numerous Daleks to termination for failure. At this rate it'd have to call for more resources from its superiors.
"A-LIEN VES-SEL DE-TECT-ED! IT IS ON AP-PROACH!" shouted one of the bronze Daleks. "IT IS HIM!"
"FIRE ALL DEFENSIVE WEAPONS!" screeched the black Dalek loudly. "I WANT HIM BROUGHT TO ME!"
The black Dalek watched the screen. The fat man and his vehicle seemed to pivot past the Dalek weaponry, which seemed to bounce off an invisible shield surrounding the fat man and his vehicle. The small, red ship smashed through the prison walls. The black Dalek swiveled its head to the screens showing the feed from the internal prison cameras. The vessel's front reared up smashing several of the Dalek guards as it came down. The old man standing on the top of the vehicle was dressed in crimson robes with white gloves on his hands. He shouted out loudly, and rang a bell with another hand. The guard Daleks encircled the carriage. The old man put down his bell and he raised his hand bringing up a whip. The fat man lashed the whip sharply. The black Dalek surmised that the whip must have been made from some kind of dwarf star alloy nanowire, because it sliced through the encircling Daleks like a laser through Varga plants. The black Dalek's iris shrunk in frustration as it watched the fat man's vessel charge through another squadron, tossing the Daleks out of the way with horny projections at the front, all the while the old man in red sliced through more Daleks with his whip.
"Con-tain him!" screeched the black Dalek as it watched in increasing fury as its forces were obliterated by this one, fat man. "HE WILL NOT ES-CAPE A-GAIN!"
"Cell-block C is re-porting that the pris-o-ners are escaping!" screeched one of the bronze Daleks.
"Ves-sel pro-ceed-ing to Cell-Block B!" reported another.
"He is re-leas-ing the pris-o-ners!" The black Dalek screeched. "Raise the trans-cen-dental shield-ing! They-WILL-NOT - ES-CAPE! EX-TERM-IN-ATE ALLL ES-CAPE-EEEESSSSSZZZ!"
"Trans-cend-ental shield-ing is non-func-tion-al! SHIELD GEN-ER-A-TOR FA-CIL-I-TY UN-DER AT-TACK!" reported another bronze Dalek.
"A-LERT! A-LERT! A SEC-OND VES-SEL IS DETECTED!" Another bronze Dalek screeched in terror.
The black Dalek's eyestalk sliced around to another screen to see a small figure, a humanoid shape, slicing through a shield generator with a scimitar. This was a situation familiar to the black Dalek, he had been on the killing fields of Avalon. He had seen this offspring-like figure before. Deep down in the middle of its gooey, be-tentacled self there was a twinge of fear.
"IT IS THE A-BOM-I-NATION!" Screeched the black Dalek.
This was the monster that slaughtered a million Daleks in one blow. This was the monster that destroyed the Holy Faithful of the Church of Skaro on the planet of Arcadia. This was the slayer of Ton's Heft, the butcher of Hordanion, the ripper of Rel'Vek'Nor! This was the same monster that had freed the fat man earlier that night. A Time Lord experiment, a new superweapon, somehow able to slip past the transcendental shielding. A warTARDIS fully armed and operational, augmented with nanotech, N-Form quantum tubules, matter transmutation modulators, but most importantly a living Time Lord installed at its very core. It was the Time Lord's answer to the Dalek in its casing. A Time Lord directly installed into a walking, talking warTARDIS. The black Dalek swiveled back to see the fat man bust into another cell-block. It watched as the prisoners were ushered into a heaving bag on top of the vessel. That would have to be a secondary priority at this point, as the black Dalek's primary priority was now…
The command room was rocked. The black Dalek swiveled its head as one of the walls exploded inwards. Masonry rained down around it as its cameras focused through the dust and dirt. The small humanoid figure leapt through the hole in the wall. Within the first second six of the Daleks in the command room were eviscerated by a slice of the figure's scimitar. The humanoid stood up straight as its black cloak flowed behind it.
"Merry Christmas, you bastards." the humanoid said, laughing. The remaining Daleks opened fire and the child deftly dodged the blasts, leaping into the air. He dropped down onto one of the monitor banks, resting in a three point stance. He glared at them and smiled a wicked smile. "I'd ask, but I think we all know you've been naughty this year!"
The small humanoid leapt to his feet, flinging as set of sharp, star-shaped projectiles at the Daleks. The stars sliced through the Daleks' armor. The creatures inside screamed as they were sliced to ribbons. The black Dalek looked around itself; it was alone. The humanoid landed in front of it.
"You - will - not es-cape." The black Dalek said as calmly at is could in the face of this monster.
"I think you'll find that that is my line…" the humanoid said, his face smirking. The humanoid looked over to one of the screen showing the fat man. "You know, you should've known today of all days he'd be impossible to stop. You may have beat him down, hidden him deep in your pits, but give him half a chance and he'll come roaring back…primal and powerful…"
"This day is no dif-fer-ent than any-other…you will fail!" The black Dalek said bluntly.
"Oh, well, of course, you wouldn't understand the centuries of work he's been at…not realize that this is of course Christmas Eve. The one day he simply cannot fail because he's Santa Claus!" The humanoid said, looking back to the black Dalek. "That being said, if he's Good Ol' St. Nick…then that must make me the Krampus, which means only one thing for you!"
"Ex-plain!" the Dalek snarled.
"You'll get the whipping all naughty, little blobs of hate get for Christmas…" the humanoid said as he looked to his scimitar and it glowed gold, morphing into a flail. The Dalek tried to fire but the humanoid simply smacked the blast aside, as if it was an insect. The boy advanced.
The black Dalek shrieked as the hooked ends of the flail tore into its casing and ripped into its squiddy flesh.
888
The old man stood up and jumped from the sleigh gingerly and landed as light as a snowflake. He ran to the door of the orphanage and clanged the bell loudly. The lights of the darkened building flared to life. There were clatters and shouts as children and matrons staggered and flustered in the night. Quickly enough a woman flung open the door.
"The children from before, get them, get them…" The old man called out, his rosy cheeks burned against the cold air. He clutched the black belt that very barely circumnavigated his crimson clad gut.
"Sir, it will have to wait until morning the children, the childr-" the woman started. She stopped as she looked past the old man.
The old man turned and looked back to his sleigh as the boy who had rescued him scrambled to the top of the bag in the back of the sleigh and undid the tie. A bright light burst from the apparently burlap sack. The young boy, clad in black pulled a giant ladder from the bag and shouted for the contents to come out. The old man smiled, expanding his bearded face as he watched the bag unload itself.
He heard the woman stagger backwards and shout for the children. More clambering rang from the building as a troop of children scrambled down the stairs and ran outside. They shouted in joy, running past the old man. First was a boy and then his older sister who ran to a woman who just only reached the ground before being tackled into the snow by the children. Not far behind them were the other children leaping and screaming and jumping onto their parents their tiny faces ruddy with cold and tears of joy as their parents clutched them tightly.
The old man looked down at the last child, the little girl with the ballerina. Her leg was bandaged and she now walked with a crutch. She looked up at the sleigh expectantly. Then she looked to the old man. The old man knelt down next to the little girl and put his hands on her shoulder and he pointed to the sleigh. The little girl swallowed as she watched her father slowly crawl out of the sleigh. She bust past the old man and straight to her father. The man caught her in his arms and twirled around in laughter as he clutched her close.
As the parents and their children inspected each other, some still not quite sure all of this was real. The old man walked back to his sleigh and climbed onto it. He snapped the reins sharply and the reindeer tethered there trotted away, bells tinkling as they slowly shifted from a trot to a run to a gallop, before leaping into the air and taking flight.
"Thank you, my young friend…" The old man said, turning his head to the boy dressed in the black cloak that was sitting next to him. "You gave those children a miracle that was sorely needed, precisely when it was needed." The old man looked ahead. "I'll go with you now…wherever your 'man up stairs' wants me to go."
"Not necessary." The child said as he kicked his feet up and put them on the front of the sleigh. "I don't need an excuse to massacre a bunch of Daleks. To tell you the truth, I didn't really come to you for anyone's sake anyways…" The little boy gave a side-long look over to the old man. "I did it for me…" The boy coughed slightly as the cold wind blew through his hair. "They say…that you really are 'him'…"
"Him?" The old man asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The old man laughed as the sleigh slowly turned taking a looping ascent over the town below. "I really am Saint Nicolas, Sinterklaas, the Santa Claus, in the flesh…"
"Sure you are, but that's not what I meant…" the boy said sitting up and bringing his feet to the floor of the sleigh. "I mean 'him', they say he died, I don't believe it for a minute, I can feel it in my hearts, but there are rumors out there, in the wilds and the fire, that he's still alive, some say that you are the Doc-"
"Oh!" The old man said, and laughed heartily, so much so his belly jiggled, as if it was made of some sort of gelatin. "No, no, I'm afraid I'm not him. Though he has at times assisted me. A couple centuries ago there was an issue with a red bicycle….if I remember correctly." The old man said furrowing his bushy, white eyebrows. He looked to the child. "But I can tell you, one thing about him. He hasn't given up on you. Neither have I; I'll never give up on you."
"Give up on me?" The boy asked, furrowing his brows. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I doubt you have any idea of who I am!"
"My young Master, of course I know who you are." the old man said, and he laughed again, loudly. "You may think I have gone crazy, you may think I'm lost and deranged out in the backwoods, but there is one thing I'm very good at, and that's children. Young children, old children, children reincarnated and reborn, even children plugged into a warTARDIS in the middle of a Time War, I've seen every kind and class." The old man looked to the boy with his twinkling eyes. "I have learned something about them over the years. Children often think they are lost and forsaken forever, but I can tell you this, nothing is ever lost, not forever, not in my eyes at least. Even the naughtiest child can be nice, there's always hope, even for you." The old man smiled at the boy. "You can be redeemed."
The boy looked up at the old man for a few seconds before he shook his head and smirked a small, demented smirk. The boy leapt to his feet and stepped to the edge of the sleigh. "Look, all of this…wasn't me being nice, it was me being selfish. It was me being a troublemaker. Yeah, 'the man upstairs' would love to have some help up there, but the old man doesn't always get what he wants, does he? And quite frankly I like getting under old Moldywarts skin. The only reason I sprung you was because I thought you were the Doctor, and I have a beef to settle with him. That's all, nothing more or less. So don't get your hopes up, Kringle."
With that the boy leapt from the side of the sleigh. The old man peered over the edge of the sleigh and watched as the boy twisted and dove into the infinite like Peter Pan to Never Never Land. The old man shook his head and then he laughed out loud as he brought his sleigh around one last time over the town below, bringing the crimson sleigh and its team of reindeer across the face of the moon. He laughed loudly and called out to all those below to make merry that night and hopefully many more to come.
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AN: Yep, I totally did it…and I have no regrets, I make no apologies. Merry Christmas…