No Pasarán

A Short Story Featuring The Ninth Doctor, As Played By Anton Robbins

This story takes place between TDWP stories: Questions and the 2009 Christmas Special: And The Child Shall Lead Them

One thing was certain, thought Juan Negrín Lopez: the conflict between the Spanish people was finally coming to a close after nearly three harrowing years. Unfortunately, being the Prime Minister of the Spanish Republic meant that he happened to be on the losing side.

Negrín gazed out of the mansion of El Poblet, or Posición Yuste, which the officers had codenamed this new base of operations for the government cabinet when they arrived nearly two weeks prior. It was a decent enough location, being quite near the town of Elda and the Mediterranean coast, which could be a great advantage if Negrín and his cohorts wanted a quick escape should things turn for the worse. Negrín's current environment was the complete opposite of the views in the Spanish capital of Madrid. During his many visits, he could swear that everything was in a constant state of vibration from the artillery strikes from Francisco Franco's armies.

But the scenery mattered little to Negrín. Ever since the fall of Catalonia, the world had come to the conclusion that the war had nearly ended. This sentiment solidified when Great Britain and France officially recognized the Nationalist regime only weeks earlier, and Manuel Azaña formally resigned as President, a month after abandoning the country to its fate. Following this, Negrín decamped to El Poblet to continue running the Republican government—what was left of it.

Negrín stood at the window, apart from his cabinet members and other politicians, quietly murmuring amongst themselves. Negrín didn't need to turn away from the window to know that almost everyone had expressions of weariness and hopelessness. The numerous debates about their next actions had clearly taken a mental toll on all of the politicians.

"Our officers have failed to report to us today, and the past week", said Torres, one of the politicians. "We've heard little to nothing from Madrid."

"Of course we've heard nothing", replied Ramos, a man particularly bitter about their situation. "You've heard the rumors, yes? Supposedly, their officers have resorted to contacting Nationalist agents to save their skins…"

"That's absurd."

"Is it?" Ramos shook his head. "The war isn't exactly going in our favor, you know."

Shocked, Torres glanced towards Negrín, who continued looking out the window, as though ignoring this squabble. "Don't say such things, that sort of talk is treason!"
"That's enough, both of you," Negrín said, now turning to face his colleagues. "This is not the time, nor place, to bicker amongst ourselves."

"Can you blame us, Negrín?" Paulino entered the conversation now, glancing downwards for a moment. "Morale is at an all-time low for our people."

Negrín leant heavily on the meeting table. "That much is plain to see whenever I have visited the capitol. But tell me sir, what other choice do we have?"

"Colonel Casado seemed keen on talking to Franco," added Ramos, crossing his arms. "Do you think he could do better than we can?"

Segismundo Casado. The name caused inward groans from Negrín every time it was mentioned. It guaranteed that the troublesome officer would mention surrender with the Nationalists whenever they met face to face.

"Certainly not," answered Negrín, slicking back his dark hair. "He just doesn't seem to comprehend that we've tried everything to make a peace agreement with Franco."
Negrín had attempted to reach an agreement with Franco for nearly a year, but the Nationalist general would accept nothing less than unconditional surrender. That was something the Prime Minister would never agree to, for he knew what consequences would be brought upon the Republican populace if they laid down their arms. He refused to allow himself to be responsible for that fast-approaching possibility.

Negrín vowed to fight Franco's forces to the bitter end. This decision did not sit well with many political groups within the Republic, especially the anarchists and socialists. The cracks within the already fragile Republic had deepened, and would certainly worsen in the days to come.

"We still have plenty of allies in our party," continued Negrín. "I have already assured Casado that our weapons and supplies from the Soviet Union will be here in due time, despite the delays."

"And if the new shipment doesn't prove to be enough?" asked Ramos slowly.. The thought alone was something that Negrín could hardly imagine despite how imminent a certainty it may be.

The cabinet continued their seemingly endless discussions and debates when a strange groaning and wheezing sound erupted. Everyone looked around to try to find its source. But Negrín waved it off as nearby machinery. "Then we will stand fast, and fight till the last man falls. No matter what Casado, or any other officer might think, there is simply no other option."

"Is that so?" spoke a muffled voice outside. The door suddenly swung open, and a newcomer strutted into the board room. "Because in my experience, there is always an alternate option."

The new arrival was of smaller height, his middle aged more apparent with his short receding dark hair. He wore rounded glasses over his hazel eyes, and a deep brown tweed three-piece suit. He had a jolly, almost comical expression as he beamed at the bewildered collection of men.

"Who the devil are you?" asked Negrín incredulously. "Where are the guards?"

"Guards?" The man looked behind him, as though looking for his supposed escort. Then he shrugged. "Hm, I certainly don't see them. Do you?"

All the politicians looked in bewilderment at this sudden arrival, once more murmuring amongst themselves. "I ask you again, sir," said Negrín, more agitated by the second. "Who are you? This is supposed to be a top-secret establishment—"

"Only a friend of the Popular Front, Prime Minister." The man raised his hands, opening his palms wide like a showman in a circus. "I assure you that I come in peace. In fact, I am here to help, if you are willing to hear me out."

The politicians all turned to Negrín. Giving a sigh, Negrín waved his assent. "Very well, speak what's on your mind. Perhaps you can give me a reason not to arrest you as a spy for the Nationalists."

"Good man." Ignoring Negrín's last sentence, the man clapped his hands together and strolled around the board room as though he owned the place, his eyes suddenly serious as they bored into every person as if looking at a chessboard. "Things have become rather dire for you lot, am I right? I can see the familiar look of defeat on each and every one of you."

"If you are here to mock us, sir, then you may as well leave!" cried Torres, with a few others joining him. The little man rapped loudly on the table with his fist until the collected throng came to complete silence.

"For heaven's sake, I wasn't finished! Please save the comments and questions until after my speech, yes?" The man cleared his throat and continued. "It seems to me that most of you are already aware of the reality of your situation. Very soon, the Nationalists will march upon your lovely capital one way or the other, and you all know what will happen when they do arrive, don't you?"

"You don't have to tell us what we already know, little man," said Negrín bitterly. "We're resigned to our fate, and we don't intend to fall without a fight."

The man scanned his eyes around the room and noted the hesitation on some of the politicians' faces. He turned to Negrín, his mischievous grin returned. "What if I were to tell you that I, and only I, have the means to turn this war around to your precious Republic's favor?"

"Then I'd be skeptical." Negrín took a few steps forward. "I think we've heard quite enough. Paulino, call security to remove this man—"

Before he could finish giving the order, the strange man quickly pulled a small object out of his jacket pocket, and showed it around the room like a child doing show-and-tell. It looked to be a ball made of chrome, with a big red button. Despite the simple appearance of the object, Negrín couldn't help but silently note its ominous presence.

"Voilà." Negrín wasn't the only one whose attention was caught by the object.

"What is it?" one man said.

"Looks like an ornament one would place on a Christmas tree," another said.

"Now now, gentleman," the man tossed the ball in the air and caught it as he walked to the window. "This is only a sneak peek of what I have to offer."

Ramos gave a derisive snort. "And what is it you are offering, exactly? A tad too early for Christmas decorating tips, don't you think?"

"You are a funny one, aren't you?" the man's eyes flicked back at the object. "Don't let its plain appearance fool you. What I hold will bring your enemies to their knees the moment they see its first use on the battlefield, and nobody would dare oppose your cause ever again."

The men all glanced towards one another before Ramos spoke once more. "You are telling us that this is a weapon, then?"

"For you lot, I'd say that this is your Republic's salvation." The man returned his full attention to Negrín. "What do you say, Prime Minister? Will you allow me to explain my proposition at length, or shall we just get on with the arrest?"

Negrín stared at the man. The stranger radiated confidence, and Negrín couldn't help but be intrigued. "All right, we'll hear what you have to say. But you've never told us your name."

"I've been known by a few aliases in my lives. But for now, it is best to refer to me as the Monk. Gentlemen …" He spread his arms out wide enthusiastically. "I am here to change the future."

Hello! Been a minute since I've published a story, eh? Today, I bring you a story written in full for once. This story was originally published during the summer of 2024 on a fan-fic website known as The Doctor Who Project, an series of adventures featuring an alternative version of Doctors 8-11. This story features the series' own Ninth Doctor, who's physical appearance is based on an older Basil Rathbone.

I wholeheartedly recommend checking out the website, you'll find a plethora of amazing stories on there. Hope you enjoy the rest of this pseudo-historical tale!