Big Bang Generation

by Gary Russell

  Keri nodded. ‘I get that. By the way, have you really just put something as dangerous as a sonic screwdriver in the hands of a child, yeah?’

  The Doctor brought his own smartphone out of his pocket and showed Keri his apps. He tapped one called FIND YOUR SONIC.

  ‘Seriously?’ asked Keri. ‘Who creates an app that only you can use?’

  He smiled. ‘My friend Clara got her friend Shona to make it.’

  Keri looked at the little logo. ‘Shona is a 12-year-old human girl, yeah?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘The logo has Poyo Satou on it.’

  ‘Maybe I like cats.’

  Keri looked at him. ‘You don’t even know who Poyo is, do you?’

  ‘She’s a cat.’

  ‘No, he is a cat.’ Keri shivered. ‘Cats. Horrible things.’ Keri activated the app and sure enough, less than half a mile away, a little blip told them both where the Doctor’s sonic was. The Doctor tapped on the app, opened another menu and selected ‘Deactivate Battery’. After a few seconds, the sonic stopped bleeping. Another menu: ‘Deactivate sonic’. He tapped that. ‘Your Kenistrii is now the proud owner of a useless metal stick,’ he said. ‘This app is very handy when I lose sonic screwdrivers. Or have them stolen.’

  ‘Happens a lot, doesn’t it?’

  ‘More than you’d expect,’ the Doctor conceded. At which point both their phones bleeped with an INCOMING TEXT envelope emblem.

  ‘That was fast,’ Keri said, tapping her phone. ‘Who did you give these numbers to, yeah?’

  The Doctor read the message aloud. ‘Run out of postcards and stamps. Meet me in Sydney, New South Wales, 2015. Bring the TARDIS, we may need the old girl. Happy Christmas xx.’ He frowned. ‘Meet who?’

  ‘No number recognised,’ Keri said. ‘You’d better go.’

  ‘Why? I’m not just running off at the first mysterious message I get.’

  ‘Two reasons,’ Keri smiled. ‘One, it’s a mystery – we both love a mystery – and now I have a phone, you can keep me abreast of things. Maybe I can help – if that has 8G activated, I could do what I do best and research things for you.’

  ‘And the other reason?’

  ‘In about four minutes a pretty angry pink Kenistrii is going to come looking for you to turn his sonic screwdriver batteries back on. If you say no, he may well try and take your batteries out, yeah?’

  The Doctor thought about this. ‘I like your reasoning,’ he said. He waved his smartphone. ‘Speak later.’

  ‘Bye Doctor,’ Keri said, shooing him away.

  Before the Doctor was out of the door, Keri was on GalFaceTweet, letting all her friends know she’d scored a new phone with universal roaming, with data charges that the Doctor was going to be responsible for.

  As the Doctor crossed the street, he re-read the message. There was something familiar in the tone of the postcards, of this text, a familiarity with him that he couldn’t place.

  Before he could think too much more about it, he saw an angry pink crocodile stomping towards him. Worse, it had brought mom and pop crocodile, twice the height, twice as angry.

  ‘I really don’t like this place,’ he muttered as he got into the TARDIS and headed for Earth in the twenty-first century.

  5

  Read My Lips

  Professor Bernice Summerfield, adventurer, archaeologist, lecturer, occasional time traveller (but not so much these days) and most importantly, mother to:

  Peter Guy Summerfield. Half-human, half-Killoran (big tall aliens that look like anthropomorphised Rottweilers; smarter than they look and quite charming). Typical teenager, moody, often hates his mum, wants his dad around, gay, looking for a boyfriend, really good with guns. Starting to become really friendly with:

  Ruth (not her real name). Early twenties, a bit naive at times, comes from a far-off planet where her parents were super-rich royalty and really not terribly nice. Nor was Ruth who, when with them, was your archetypical spoilt-princess type. Her mind was wiped during an attempt to flee from an uprising and she has absolutely no memory, or traits, of her previous life before she met Bernice, who introduced her to:

  Jack (absolutely his real name, he has no surname). Kadeptian ambulance-chaser-type lawyer, not his family’s most favourite son (there were a lot of sons, to be the least favourite was a big, if not good, achievement), who met Bernice on a weirdly distorted future Earth that was actually like Victorian London, where he got known as Spring-Heeled Jack. Has long, grasshopper-like legs, red eyes, pointed chin and ears and is quite foppish and urbane. He’s also engaged to Ruth. Awwww.

  That was not quite how Bernice introduced her team to Professor Horace Jaanson, Colonel Sadkin and everyone else. It was along those lines but a bit punchier, and she didn’t mention the Peter being gay and looking for love bit because it wasn’t hugely relevant and the last time she had described him as such – to a rather elegant young Halantii in the bar of the White Rabbit on Legion, Peter had got moodier and grumpier and didn’t speak to her for a week. Bernice was indeed a typical mother, just a bit out of practice.

  ‘How did you get here?’ was Colonel Sadkin’s not entirely unjustified question.

  ‘Would you believe, this bit of rock –’ she held up the rock given to her some days earlier – ‘sort of homed in on this place once my guys were all together in the bar one night. We didn’t get a lot of choice, or time to pack a toothbrush, so excuse us for not being prepared. One minute we’re chatting to one another; the next – whoosh, here we are twenty-something centuries into our own future.’

  ‘No,’ said Colonel Sadkin. ‘I wouldn’t believe that one bit.’

  ‘For one thing,’ Professor Jaanson piped up, ‘time travel is impossible.’

  Bernice looked at the group around and settled on Colonel Sadkin. There was something in his eyes…

  ‘Oh that’s not true at all,’ Bernice countered. ‘As the Colonel here knows full well.’

  The Professor turned to the Father of the Chapel. ‘Colonel?’

  ‘Time travel is known to exist, in a limited form, to very special individuals.’

  ‘Consider me, us, special individuals then,’ Bernice said, adding before anyone else could speak: ‘Now, I think we need to get inside that big polyhedron thing and see what’s inside, don’t you?’

  ‘What polyhedron?’

  ‘The Pyramid Eternia, which contains what you are searching for. The time portal. Belongs to the Ancients of the Universe.’ She smiled sweetly at Jaanson. ‘Do keep up, Professor. I thought this was your speciality?’

  ‘How do you know who I am?’

  ‘She reads a lot. And listens rather than talks,’ Peter said, pulling his hoodie back, revealing his human/canine face. A couple of the Church took an involuntary step back, although Brother Elias remained focused on him, as per his orders.

  ‘This is all getting a little tense,’ Jack said. ‘Why don’t we all just calm down and get along, yes? We all want the same thing.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘To get in there, I’m guessing?’ Jack threw a quick look to Bernice, making sure that was indeed what she wanted.

  She smiled back. ‘Jack’s right, we’re not in competition. I think we can help you get inside, Professor. That’s what you wanted an archaeologist for, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I didn’t want or need anyone,’ Jaanson said petulantly. ‘The Church insisted on it.’

  ‘Well, now you have me,’ Bernice said agreeably. ‘Oh, hullo,’ she added, waving at the Talpidian digger who was trying to look insignificant behind the Professor. ‘Smelled anything dangerous yet?’

  The Talpidian nodded.

  ‘Of course he has,’ the Professor said unkindly. ‘That’s all he ever does. Smell danger and make everyone nervous.’

  ‘Then why’s he here?’ Bernice asked.

  ‘I need a good digger,’ the Professor replied. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’

  Ruth offered her hand to the Tal
pidian, deliberately knocking the Professor out of the way. ‘It’s an honour to meet such a loyal and smart person,’ she said. ‘Talpidians are my favourite people in the galaxy.’

  The Talpidian immediately went bright pink and looked away nervously. ‘Thank you,’ he said finally.

  ‘Tell me what you’ve discovered here so far,’ Ruth said, easing him further away from the group.

  Colonel Sadkin sidled closer to Bernice. ‘Clever move,’ he muttered.

  Jack and Peter were now following Ruth’s lead and personally introducing themselves to the Clerics, shaking hands, patting shoulders, that sort of thing.

  ‘My team are experts,’ she replied. ‘And not the enemy.’ She nodded towards Jaanson who was switching his point of view between the retreating digger and the Church soldiers, who were doing nothing.

  ‘Why are you letting us be split up?’ Jaanson exploded.

  ‘He’s a liability,’ Bernice muttered to Sadkin.

  ‘He’s also paying good money. Well, his Academy is.’

  ‘The people who need to pay good money for something like this are usually the least qualified to actually do it. He probably got where he is today by shouting a lot.’

  ‘He is an expert on the Ancients.’

  ‘Where I come from, anyone who knows anything about history can be an expert on the Ancients. There’s not much to learn. There is, however, a lot you can pretend you have discovered, to make yourself sound important.’

  Sadkin smiled at her finally. ‘And you, Professor Summerfield? Do you do much to make yourself sound important?’

  ‘All the time, Colonel. It creates an air of mystery. I learned that one from the best.’

  ‘I should probably just arrest the lot of you.’

  ‘Probably. But I think you want to find out why you’ve been dragged here as much as I do. And I am actually capable of opening that door. Unlike Professor Jaanson.’

  ‘Two Professors. That’s two too many for me at the best of times. This isn’t the best of times.’

  ‘Call me Benny, then. It’s a lot easier. When people call me “Professor”, I spend a few seconds looking around me expecting someone like Jaanson to be who they actually want.’ She held out her hand.

  Sadkin weighed this up and then shook it for a second time. ‘OK, Benny it is. Just be aware. I don’t trust you. I may quite like you, but I don’t trust you.’

  ‘That’s cool I’m used to that. The no-trust bit, I mean.’

  The Colonel was looking over Bernice’s shoulder. ‘What about her? Do we trust her too?’

  ‘What “her”?’ Bernice turned to look behind her, where Sadkin was pointing. There was a lithe blueish woman with a silver mane of hair, seemingly trying to get her bearings. Bernice couldn’t tell if she’d yet spotted her and the Colonel.

  ‘Oh, her? Her, I don’t know. But if she’s not with me and not with you, maybe she’s with him.’

  It was Colonel Sadkin’s turn to look elsewhere. ‘No, he’s not with the Church.’

  ‘He doesn’t look it, to be frank,’ Bernice said.

  They were watching a large human striding towards the pyramid, oblivious to the Church-with-added-Summerfield group.

  The blueish woman skittered across the russet terrain after him, and it seemed certain she hadn’t seen them either.

  Bernice waved Peter over and he came. He too had spotted the newcomers.

  ‘Not sure I like this, Mum,’ he said. ‘Too many variables.’

  ‘ “Variables”?’ asked Sadkin.

  Bernice nodded. ‘Yeah, we were expecting Professor Jaanson and probably a small party of religious students, like a Sunday School outing. My bad. I hadn’t realised that in this century the Church had become some sort of military organisation.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Sadkin frowned.

  ‘Peter?’

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘It’s time.’

  ‘Time for what?’ asked Colonel Sadkin, Father of the Chapel and leader of the military group who were, he was amazed – and a little annoyed – to see, lying unconscious on the ground. The Talpidian digger was down, too, and of Professor Jaanson there was no sign. ‘What is going on?’

  Peter held up a small black box with a switch on it. ‘Invention of mine,’ he said. ‘Go into a potentially hostile situation, or one where you are hopelessly outnumbered. Shake everyone’s hand, hug them even, and touch each person’s skin somewhere.’ In his other hand he held a small quantity of what looked like contact lenses made of rice paper. ‘So light, you never know one’s being attached, held there by sweat, like magnets. Then I press this switch and everyone falls asleep, painlessly, effortlessly. No bangs, no flashes, just five or six hours’ refreshing sleep.’

  ‘You’ll thank me for it eventually. It really is a good deep sleep,’ Bernice added.

  Sadkin looked at his hand, where he’d shook Bernice’s.

  ‘You bi—’ And he was down in the mud, snoring slightly.

  ‘Bless,’ said Bernice pocketing her own little black box.

  Jack and Ruth re-joined them. ‘Everyone accounted for except the stupid Professor,’ Jack reported.

  ‘We need to access the time portal.’

  ‘Which is inside the pyramid, right?’

  ‘Fundamentally, yes.’ Bernice held out the rock she had been given back on Legion. ‘Hopefully this’ll “open sesame” and nothing else will go wrong.’

  The others looked at her.

  ‘What?’

  Ruth took Benny’s hand (carefully throwing away Peter’s patented knock-out patches, otherwise things could have got pretty embarrassing rather quickly). ‘Benny. We love you, we really do.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But when was the last time we ever did anything that didn’t at some point go slightly wrong?’

  ‘Majorly wrong,’ added Jack unhelpfully.

  ‘It does happen a lot,’ conceded Peter.

  Bernice looked at her son in mock outrage. ‘Even my own flesh and blood has no faith.’

  ‘I’d have more faith if the person who sent us here hadn’t been you.’

  ‘A future you,’ Jack reminded her.

  ‘And if,’ Ruth said, ‘a future you is in so much trouble that the only solution is to go back in time to ask for help from you…’ She shrugged. ‘But we love you. Really. We do.’

  Bernice shrugged. ‘I’m not going to tell you about the strange blue woman and the stranger fat man, then. See how you like that when we bump into them and you’re not prepared. Yeah. That.’

  Ruth and Jack just looked at Bernice quizzically, but Peter was back on the alert, scouring the ridges and boulders for movement made by the duo he’d spotted earlier. He pointed across the way; it was possible to see the blue-skinned female through the ice and rain. Then the fat guy came into view a few paces behind her, obviously not built for this terrain.

  Peter was off in a second, expertly tracking them, moving across the plains, behind rocks, doing everything he needed to catch up with his prey without alerting them to his presence.

  Bernice looked at Ruth and Jack. ‘We ought to go after him.’

  ‘What about the grumpy Professor?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘She’s right beside you,’ Jack giggled and nudged Ruth. She gave him a look best described as ‘withering’ and shook her head slowly.

  But Bernice was beyond jokes now. It was time to get moving, to get serious and do what they needed to do. She was already heading off after Peter, carefully treading only in his footprints, knowing that this was the safest route.

  She eventually found him crouched behind a boulder, about thirty yards from the big door in the pyramid. She gave him a questioning look and he nodded, suggesting it was OK for her to take a look.

  As she did so, Ruth and Jack arrived, in utter silence, all joking aside and working as the well-oiled machine Bernice had trained them all to be.

  She felt a moment of pride. Her family. She had brought them together and m
ade them a team.

  She stared over the boulder and sure enough, the blue woman and the fat man were standing there. Then stupid Professor Jaanson arrived. She listened to him.

  ‘About time! The Headless Monks said they’d send the best. I assume that’s you.’

  The fat man grunted, so the blue woman spoke. ‘I’m Kik the Assassin. This is Cyrrus Globb. You must be Jaanson Horace.’

  ‘Other way around,’ he stammered, clearly in awe of Kik the Assassin. Or in fear, Bernice wasn’t quite sure. ‘Professor Horace Jaanson,’ he corrected her. ‘And behind that door is my life’s work. The Monks want to understand it, I want to experience it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s a time portal. The secrets of the universe will be mine. To activate it is a lodestone, a physical key if you like. Throughout history, it had had so many names – the Locke, the Stone of Destiny, the Glamour, the Rock of Ages, whatever. But that stone exists, so legend tells, in a million places at once because of where it is positioned at the apex of the portal. If we take it, we can sell it.’ He turned to Globb. ‘You, I assume are a conman, a thief and a blackguard, yes?’

  Globb opened his mouth, as if to protest, then shrugged. ‘Pretty much. I’m the best.’

  ‘So good you ended up in a Stormcage,’ Jaanson snapped. ‘I’m not impressed, but the Monks obviously were. So your job is to take the lodestone, the Glamour, and sell it, many times over, on the quiet, to every library, private collector, museum and idiot academician the universe over. Because you will actually have physical but worthless copies – visual echoes, if you like, from the time portal. I have studied this for years; my entire family before me, too. We all understand how the Ancients of the Universe built this and that they left it for someone with vision to exploit now they’ve passed on.’

  Globb frowned. ‘What if the one in there is actually one of these solid but worthless copies?’ It wasn’t an unreasonable question, but Jaanson was irritated by it.

  ‘Then according to legend, we actually use that and it takes us to the original Glamour – and I study that while you flog off the others. It’s very simple.’

  Kik the Assassin exchanged a look with Cyrrus Globb, but the human shrugged. ‘Yeah, OK, he’s a loony but we’re here to do a job and if he’s right, we could be billionaires by next week.’ Globb offered a hand to the Professor to shake. ‘We have a deal.’