Trap Street Issue 3

“OF COURSE!” Sellec exclaimed, slapping a clawed hand to his forehead, “a weak force close by can overwhelm a strong force at a distance.”

“EXACTLY!” The Doctor enthused. He bounded over to a console and started manipulating the controls. “If we place the ships at just the right points, their artificial gravity will balance the loss of the gravity from Mondas!”

There was silence as the gathered scientists absorbed the Doctor’s plan. The Doctor’s hearts began to sink as the initial rush of adrenalin faded and the sheer weight of the situation began to truly hit home. Here he was, at a Fixed Point in history and he could feel history moving around him. That was new, that was odd. Previously he could feel the inevitability of history, but now there was a terrifying void where that inevitable certainty used to reside. Could the War have damaged Time so much that even the Fixed Points had become flexible? It was a sobering thought. No Time Lords to come in and anchor history.

There was only him. A mad man in a box who ran away from his responsibilities until there was nowhere left to run. *** “Ohh I’ve missed this,” the Doctor said, an intense gleam in his eyes. Vastra was aghast.

“You miss the end of the world?” her voice dripped with venom. He smiled dangerously and waved his hands in the air.

“Nah, the fact that this is a problem we can science the ‘ell out of. We can save the day by being terribly clever,” another dangerous smile that almost distracted from the pain in his eyes, “you can survive without killin’. All you need to do is be really, really, smart” Vastra regarded him coldly, she doubted that this insane alien could do as he promised and said so.

His face fell. “Some cheery help you are.” ‘Not’, a little voice whispered in his mind, ‘like Rose Tyler would have been’.

“I am not here to be 'cheery', I am here to protect my people.” Vastra sounded almost offended, something the Doctor didn’t miss.

“And I’m here helpin’. I’ve got a lot of experience saving worlds,” he hoped he sounded proud saying that, rather than smug, “And I can help save yours. ‘Ave a little hope.” Vastra looked at the Doctor and the Doctor looked at Vastra, a silent, stationary tableau in a sea of motion and sound.

“Who are you, ‘Doctor?’” Vastra asked.

“No one ever asks ‘how are you, Doctor?’” the Doctor deflected. Vastra raised an eye-ridge cynically.

“And how are you?”

“Fine Thanks,” the Doctor replied, with a cheery and utterly false smile. The smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “I’ll answer if you do.” Vastra thought about it and nodded. “I’m a traveller