by Doctor Who
He looked back at the ball of energy, opening his mouth in horror as, agonisingly slowly, the flames of light began to swirl within the confines of the force bubble.
Time hiccupped, and the bubble's diameter expanded by a millimetre as the TARDIS groaned under the strain of containment. The Doctor found 69
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himself thrown against the railings of the console by an incredible shockwave.
'Stasis leak.' He struggled to breathe as his arms flailed across the hard metal floor that strobed beneath him in the red light. 'I have to get out of here.'
His
body
twisted
and
convulsed
as
the
atmosphere began to boil, suffocating him as he pawed his way along the floor towards the doors. His arms trembled and shook with the effort required to pull his body even an inch, and by the time his fingers were scrabbling at the edge of the wooden panelling his face was drenched with sweat. Tears of exertion ran down his cheeks as he prised open the latch and the door inched slowly open. It took his last ounce of strength to fling his body over the threshold and onto the stony desert ground beyond.
'We've lost the Doctor!' Amy shouted as she tried to catch her breath. 'What is he doing?'
It doesn't matter. We know the route; we can meet him at the TARDIS.' Rory looked over his shoulder.
'That is, if we manage to keep all our limbs until we get there.'
The citizens of Appletown were swarming along the street towards them, spilling over into the gardens Rory and Amy had passed through 70
NUCLEAR TIME
only seconds before. No longer attempting to appear human, the androids clambered over fences and through hedges with an almost insect-like movement of limbs that contrasted grotesquely with
their pastel
fashion sense. Amy nearly retched as she watched one woman, sporting a fetching mini dress that she would have killed for, get caught awkwardly in one of the fences as it collapsed beneath her, only to free herself through a 360-degree rotation of her forearms that twisted the rubber skin around her elbows until it ripped to expose the steel skeleton beneath.
She turned and headed straight for the garden gate, leaping into the road to dodge a pair of grasping hands and rolling back onto her feet, nearly losing her balance as she pushed forward to try and outrun her pursuers. She could hear Rory panting behind her as they rounded the street corner and the large Appletown sign loomed up in front of them.
She picked up the pace for one last sprint to the TARDIS as Rory drew alongside, the final few houses hurtling past as they pelted down the street.
Three, two, one, the last buildings fell away and they entered the open desert, sand and rocks stretching for miles in every direction, the horizon a haze that blurred into the pale blue sky, and that was all there was.
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'But...' Amy panted as her lungs burned and she slowed in bewilderment.
'It was there. It was right there!' Rory said.
But it wasn't any longer, and Amy rushed to the shallow dent in the ground that was the only indication the TARDIS had ever been there at all. She stood in the centre of the square and flung her arms up in frustration.
'Doctor!' she shouted. 'Come back!'
They stood in silence for a moment, their ears straining for the familiar sound of the engines, but there was nothing but the wind and the faint drone of the plane as it passed over the village.
Rory scanned the sky for the aircraft in puzzlement. 'I thought the Doctor was implying that we were about to be nuked,' he said. 'But the plane is leaving and we're still alive.'
'Well, thank heavens for small mercies,' Amy snapped. 'In the meantime we're stuck in the desert with nothing for miles but a town full of homicidal robots for company.'
Rory looked over his shoulder nervously, expecting a hoard of villagers to emerge from the buildings any second.
'I think we should get as far away from here as possible,' he suggested, but Amy shook her head solemnly.
'The Doctor wouldn't leave us behind. He'll 72
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come back - and when he does we need to be here.'
Rory shuffled uncomfortably. 'But there's got to be some sort of human outpost somewhere, some sort of observation tower for the testing.'
'I'm sure there is, but it'll be miles out of range of an atomic blast and we have no idea what direction it's in,' Amy retorted. 'We could just be walking deeper into the desert, how long do you think we'll be able to survive out in the open in this heat? And that's not even considering the fact that we'd be sitting ducks to Isley and her friends out in the open.'
'OK, OK, you've made your point.'
Amy sniffed, and silence descended once more.
'I guess we should try and find somewhere to hide then.' Rory suggested eventually. 'If we stay out of their way long enough, maybe the citizens will reset.'
'Considering what's happened so far, I wouldn't bet on it being so easy,' Amy said as she strode past him.
'Come on,' she said, 'we'll circle around and enter from the east.'
Rory looked around. 'Which way is east?'
'I don't know, it just sounded better than "a different direction to the one we came in by", that's all.'
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Rory undid another button on his shirt and reluctantly began to follow her, glancing over his shoulder with every step. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
74
Chapter
5
Utah Military Research Base, 27 May 1977
'Coffee?'
'What? Oh yeah, sure. Put it by the limbs.'
Albert didn't bother to look up as Geoff entered the workshop that the majority of the base had nicknamed 'the magician's palace'. It certainly looked the part, with great swathes of coloured polythene, clothes and sheets of plastic flesh hung from wires all around the central workspace. The tamer items stood near the doorway: wooden crates filled with robotic limbs, polished arms and hands complete with bolted aluminium fingers hanging limply over the edge of the boxes, independent generators whirring gently
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and making the hands twitch in a scarily lifelike manner every few minutes.
Further inside were rows of shelves containing a large number of human-like heads — metal skulls coated in the cutting edge of plastic technology. Rubber eyelids lay carefully over gel eyeballs and the only hint of the microchip technology that stood in for a brain was the open hatch above the right ear on every model and the soft blue glow pulsating from within.
The back wall displayed the various readouts, charts and graphs that were being fed out from the small, handheld device in Albert's palm. Only fifteen centimetres square, the box contained the entire processing power and coding that had, four years ago now, once taken up the entire computer lab at Michigan University, and which in turn was connected by a spray of wires to the centrepiece of the whole operation: The android.
The flickering readouts rippled across the metal skeleton, catching its steel bolts and reflecting tiny points of light around the room. This one was a woman, a baggy T-shirt slung over the unskinned torso protected her inner workings, but her head was almost human.
Her round face sported a wide pair of big blue eyes, a freckly nose and ruby lips all framed by a short, sandy bob to complete the
76
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illusion. Isley II.
If Albert had any emotional attachment to the robot he didn't show it, instead wiggling specific wires with the end of his biro and flicking his eyes to the screen in search of a change in the data, repeating the process at least twice for each connection.
Geoff was used to being ignored by the scientist, especially now that the delivery dates, which had seemed so far away only a month ago, were looming perilously close.
/>
'And the admin girls and boys upstairs want you to turn your music down. They can hear it over three floors.'
Albert gave up switching the wires and dropped the device on a nearby table, scratching his ear with the pen. 'Really? Would they prefer to listen to me swearing and drilling? I'd take Cher over that any day.'
'Well,
maybe
just
mix
up
the
cassettes
occasionally.'
The scientist sucked through his teeth as he took a swig from the polythene cup. 'Sheesh, people have no taste any more.' He looked down at his coffee.
'Speaking of which, what roast is this?'
'We're out; I had to use the canteen stuff.'
Albert ran his tongue over his mouth in disgust. 'Warn me next time,' he said.
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Geoff moved forward into the lab and began to inspect the android carefully. He waved a hand in front of its face, but the eyes didn't follow it. He raised the other hand - nothing again. Suddenly he clapped both hands together, and the rubber eyelids blinked involuntarily. Albert carefully perched his drink on the workbench with his control box and walked over to join him.
'Only her involuntary reflexes are switched on at the moment. I'm still trying to refine the trigger from standard to military mode and I don't want her trying to kill me if I get it wrong,' he said.
Geoff nodded and reached out to touch Isley's face, but the scientist slapped it away.
'No touching!'
Geoff did as he was told. 'To be honest, I didn't expect you to go so quietly when we asked you to implement the military programming,' he said gruffly.
Albert sighed. 'I wasn't exactly surprised, considering who's bankrolling me. I presumed robot-soldiers would be on the agenda from the start.
At least this way I can also work on the civilian AI model simultaneously. That's the magical part. With the technology you boys had already, it wouldn't have been hard to create an android that just kills people.
But I can make an android so lifelike that it can appear to be human
78
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for days, even weeks before it's triggered to kill - that's the key. And making a human-like machine is what I've always dreamt of. So I guess I'm happy.' He shrugged.
Geoff looked at him earnestly. 'It's not all bad. Think of the lives we can save when we don't have to put human beings in danger. If we can create an assassin, of any nationality, with full combat training -
a smooth and effective kill, no collateral damage and no US citizen put at risk.'
Albert matched his gaze. 'Yeah and think of all the other people we might decide suddenly need assassinating once it becomes a risk-free venture.'
Geoff turned away. 'Our job is to keep people safe, Albert, not to terrorise the world.'
'Keep telling yourself that.' Albert picked up the control box once more and swapped a couple of wires around before screwing the back plate on tighter.
Taking that as a sign that the conversation was over, Geoff walked towards the exit, but paused with his hand on the door handle. He turned back.
'Hey, uh, have you seen Star Wars yet?' he asked. 'I know it's only been out a week...'
Albert raised his eyebrows. 'No, I've not left the building in three days.'
Geoff looked suddenly sheepish. 'It's just, I've 79
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got a couple of spare tickets, thought you might want to come along.'
'Why'd you get spare tickets?'
'They weren't spare when I got them. I bought one for Marge and one for Sally.'
'Oh... And why aren't they going?'
Geoff's military facade shattered for a moment as he choked up and suddenly Albert no longer saw his boss. In his place was a man who looked a shadow of his former self: drawn and grey and very, very tired.
'She left me this morning,' was all the soldier could manage before he turned and walked quickly out of the laboratory.
80
Chapter
6
Colorado, 28 August 1981, 5.15 p.m.
The smell of smoke made the Doctor cough as he gradually regained consciousness. Blearily, he opened his eyes and realised his clothes were smouldering. Pale white trails were rising from beneath his body and, as he raised an arm to shield his face from the sun, he noticed that his sleeves had blackened along the back. 'Oh, swear,' he said half-heartedly, dropping his head back to the ground and waiting for his strength to return.
He gazed into the deep blue of the afternoon sky and wondered how long he'd been unconscious, and whether it was long enough to get a tan.
Then his memory came crashing back.
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The Doctor sat bolt upright. He reached a hand up to his face and winced as he realised it was sunburnt.
That long? This wasn't good.
Getting to his feet, he looked around quickly. The TARDIS stood, an incongruous monolith, in the exact centre of Appletown. Roads radiated out from the town's central space like the spokes of a giant wheel. He looked to the sky in admiration; the bomber pilot must have been extremely skilled to perform so accurate a delivery.
He walked over to the TARDIS, slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around his fist as he reached out to touch the sturdy wood of the frame.
He was surprised when he found it quite cool to the touch and quickly unwrapped his hand before placing his palm flat against one of the panels. 'That's strange,' he said. 'You must be dissipating the energy.'
He paused for a second and frowned. 'I wonder how.'
He scanned his surroundings once more, but this part of the town was eerily quiet and he quickly realised that he hadn't managed to explore this far before. He took a moment to get his bearings before deciding on which
direction
he
would
find
his
waiting
companions. He needed to get them back to the TARDIS as soon as possible - there was was no telling how long the stasis field would hold.
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He spun on his heel and walked in the opposite direction to the one that he had intended.
Within five minutes the Doctor was lost. He looked at his watch, then up at the third identical row of houses he had passed in as many minutes, then back at his watch, then up again. Something wasn't right, but he wasn't sure which it was, the watch or the houses?
He looked at the timepiece on his wrist more closely, peering at the three hands as they rotated slowly across the gold roman numerals, the second hand smoothly counting down; six, five, four, three, two, one, twelve...
It was running backwards.
The Doctor considered the implications. He scanned the rooftops of Appletown, holding his wrist against his ear as he listened for any noise that might indicate a loose cog in the mechanism of his timepiece. Then he recognised a familiar shape through the white haze: the dark outline of the warehouse he had stood under only a few minutes before, the warehouse where he had met himself.
He dawdled in the road for a second, eyeing up the
building
with
uncharacteristic
hesitancy.
Abruptly he held up a finger, as if preparing to make an excuse as to why he really, really 83
DOCTOR WHO
shouldn't go and test his troubling theory, but found he had nothing to say. He scratched at his forearm where his rolled-up shirt sleeves had left the rough material of his jacket to itch his skin, and then made up his mind. He shoved the hand with the watch into his pocket and walked on.
A few moments later he was skirting the sunny side of the building, looking this way and that in search of what he hoped he wouldn't find. He passed the large, bolted wooden doors of the warehouse and felt a chill run down his spine that was more than just the sun being blo
tted from view. Then he saw him, his past self, standing open-mouthed and gazing right at the spot that the Doctor had appeared from.
'OK, OK, bear with me,' he muttered as he slipped his jacket over his shoulder and shrugged it on, but his past self didn't seem to understand and stepped forward. 'Nope, you wait right there. I remember that headache.' He held up a hand and shuffled his pockets for the psychic paper. 'And I remember how this went, so let's just get on with it.'
His fingers felt the soft leather wallet and he pulled it out, trying to picture the maze of buttons and levers that had performed the stasis miracle on the bomb as it imprinted itself onto the slip. He started as his past self warbled something
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incomprehensible and anguished, a blur of sound.
'Koow duk tat. Tiiir rowu,' he finished.
'Yeah, whatever you say.' The Doctor flipped open the wallet and held it out for his other self to see, but his face fell when he saw his past self's blank expression.
'Right, backwards communication, how do you do this?' His mind raced to try and map his sentences onto a soundscape that would make sense in reverse.
He swallowed and opened his mouth. 'You can save them, you can save them, stop it,' he whispered, practicing quickly to himself before beginning.
'Meeth Yarvas, te dops nack.' He raised his eyebrows to see if he had managed to convey anything that made any sense, before realising that the reaction to his sentence would have preceded his speech anyway.
'ZZidart heathe?' his past self responded. The Doctor knew what that meant.
'The
zzzidart,
yes,
use
the
TARDIS,
the
instructions I've given you, I mean, am about to give you, they're for the TARDIS!' He spoke slowly and loudly like a tourist in a foreign country with no grasp of the native language. 'You've got to use them now! You can save them from the nuke! I mean... bmobe heathe!' He shouted over the other 85
