MERRY CHRISTMAS! (2022)

Wishing all readers worldwide a very MERRY CHRISTMAS and A PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR!

See you in '23 for the incredible Sixtieth Anniversary!

ORIGINAL FICTION - 'THE LAST ENEMY'

It's time to let go...

There are many rare incredible sights, genuine wonders, be they good or bad to the overall grand scheme of things, that have only ever been witnessed by a privileged few across the universe. But there are some instances of such wonder, yet also accompanying sadness, that are seen and experienced by an amount all too fewer. Like the death of one of those unique and inspiring lords of time from an age of ancient and majestic bearing, beings from a far-off world mostly and deliberately existing in sealed-off seclusion away from the many lifeforms and civilisation they ultimately and distinctly protect from afar.

And the greatest of these Time Lords, a heroic explorer in his third physical incarnation whose exploratory passions beyond his home world would lead him into such trouble, yet ultimately launch such bravery against often insurmountable odds to protect other forms of life, is now about to depart our universal realms, his body slowly but surely being destroyed from the after-effects of detonated radiation-fuelled blue crystals of immeasurable power. Crystals that would shape the future of the beautiful yet dangerous world of Metebelis III beyond the realms of the mutant spider civilisation that had once luxuriously thrived on their powers...

Any thoughts the Doctor had that he might yet live to fight another day, despite the ramifications of his last adventure on Metebelis III, seemed muted as he slowly, wearily travelled the arid landscapes of that world back to his time/space craft. The once incredibly active, old/young handsome-featured face of great intellect, passion and sensitivity were now painfully exhausted. His greying blonde hair of once immaculately controlled curls now more of a blisteringly shocking white, messed up with cavern dust. Even the refined light blue frilled shirt, black bow tie and once elegant black smoking jacket with silk lapel linings that he'd always worn with spectacular style were now seemingly less striking and muted, his garments torn and dirtied further with his timely escape from the immense Metebelis III cave that once held the terrifying and hideously evil, wickedly-taunting figure of the Great One spider, whose life he had committed himself to destroying, alongside a personal ordeal alongside it to once and for all face his fears, his inner demons, and even personal guilts, accepting responsibility for certain mistaken actions prior initiated.

As he near-stumbling reached his beloved TARDIS time capsule disguised as a 1960's Earth Police Telephone Box of scratch-worn elderly blue colour, the Doctor was distracted and temporarily non-showing of the fierce pride and love for the machine that he near always displayed at the end of every perilous journey into the unknown for which he and his companions had ultimately triumphed time and time again. There was a tired disinterest of sorts to his personality, and a brief fumbling into his dirtied waistcoat for his unique entry key and the opening of the craft's double doors, a situation that required much more concentration for him than was normal. Seconds seemed like an eternity, but he was finally able to immerse himself into the brightly-lit, comfortable-to-his-eyes roundel littered control room to which he had spent all his lives in love and fascination of. Tired, now very tired, the Doctor reached the primary controls of the six-sided console surrounding its colourfully striking, majestic central time rotor, and hit the dematerialization switches that ignited the familiar noises of the vessel's departure, the noises that reached a crescendo that ultimately petered out, revealing the craft's successful entry into the vortex. But as the noises of departure and Fifth Dimension interpolation began, the TARDIS itself sensed not just its friend's once again entry into her realms, but now, through the unique telepathic symbiosis they unconsciously shared, recognised signs of personal concern towards the decaying/dying figure to whom TARDIS had joyously shared so much of her eccentric and exciting life in wandering the realms of time and space. Its telepathic circuits now betrayed slow-building shock and sadness with the revelations entering its being about her friend. Once before, TARDIS had aided his unique youthful 'rejuvenation' during a time of great crisis and vulnerability, but she knew that this was a different situation, of which the Doctor was seemingly too far gone to save from such excessive radiation damage. The Time Lord who had been such a beloved companion to her, and from whose enthusiasm and passions she had thrived in becoming his ultimate travelling guide (of sorts) across the cosmos and beyond. Such sadness the TARDIS felt was quickly all-encompassing. Was it the Doctor's imaginations, or had the craft's interior lighting system around him started to dim?

Having set a course (whilst fighting a building headache and numbing fatigue) that would hopefully take him back to the familiar, safely enjoyable (over time) environs of Earth and its UNIT organisation, headed by his steadfast-to-the-end friend in Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, and a location which also often situated his latest companion in the resourceful and attractive investigative reporter Sarah Jane Smith (to whom the visiting Time Lord had become so affectionately attached), the Doctor now slowly but surely, one hand often holding firmly onto one of the many corridor walls, reached the small but fully-functioning medical bay, to which he soon let its whirring computer systems go to work efficiently and methodically scanning his height-lost body which now lay atop a long framed and comfortable medical couch that, just a short time before, had only just handled his once tall and confident frame.

The readings, ultimately revealed with coolly concentrated precision by the artificial intelligence machines, were as bad as he thought, but the drugs soon pumped into his body by them might help, the Doctor thought with fake confidence. Well, at least for a time, as he prepared himself for the grim scenario, worsened by the fact that a regeneration attempt was no longer possible - this was not something revealed by the machines, but it was a scenario that he instinctively knew. That the final end, his final journey, was approaching. And that there was no last escape, no last reprieve or place to hide in avoiding the inevitable... 

With the drugs further pumping through his body, the Doctor, returned to the console, tried to stay focused and for a short time even tried to build some inner confidence - searching for ways he might keep himself alive a little longer. As his unique brain pondered variables and possibilities, whilst continuing to keep an eye on the many functions needed to control the vehicle as it made its destination for the blue green beauty of planet Earth, other recent events prior to Metebelis III once more reared their way into his busy but lonely psyche: the departure of a friend, and the tragic loss of an enemy...

It had started as an unusual cry for help- an unintentionally sent telepathic signal between Time Lords, a link established after years of personal conflict, as the Master 'disappeared' into the Fifth Dimension. The Doctor, unusually worried for his former friend and rival's dilemma, as well as the potential danger his nemesis was surely trying to give wrought to the galaxy, had no choice but to follow his trail, and there was no chance on this earth that his loyal-to-the-end human assistant in Jo Grant, ever concerned for her alien friend's life, especially in relation to the diabolical Master, was ever going to be stopped from going with him. Their search, via the thinnest of TARDIS time traces, would ultimately take them to an ancient planet prior known only via decayed galactic fables, and in history later talked via word of mouth from generation to generation in all the most horrifying of ways. A harsh yet striking world mysteriously and bizarrely located in that Fifth Dimension of time itself - the deadly war-like realm of Armageda, whose natural powers were both considerable and terrifying, even worse if put into the seriously wrong hands of the Master. 

Within a natural environment now scarred by the horrifying effects of interphasic chaos (the ancient Time Lord weaponry equivalent of the Earth's fearsome Dirty Bombs, but on a scale far, far worse) the concerned Doctor wondered to an equally worried Jo what trouble his frenemy had gotten himself into now, knowing full well, as he once more agitatedly rubbed the back of his neck, that the scenario they were heading might well be the genuine calling card to doomsday! 

Once arrived on Armageda, the Master's schemes to use the planet's natural powers and harness the strengths of its people had gone fatefully wrong. Indeed, it was all a trap, of which the manipulator had himself been skilfully manipulated by even more cunning and intelligent foes in the Armagedons, who'd patiently waited eons to snare not just one but two Time Lords ultimately needed to launch their world away from the Fifth Dimensional prison existence delivered to it by their enemies. And if the Armagedon escaped into the realms beyond? Well, even a mere first contact between the planet's long held in check natural energies (thousands of years having turned it into a living weapon, of sorts) and the environs of real space could set-off chain reactions of particle anti-matter-esque oblivion capable of causing the death of billions of innocent lives. Sure enough, the Doctor and Master, the latter wanting revenge on the Armagedons who had deeply humiliated his once-arrogant psyche, were able to overcome their trapped scenario, and looked set to destroy Armageda together- the only guaranteed way to stop its potential escape confines, whilst a distressed, near to the point of broken-hearted Jo was unwillingly being sent back to Earth via a pre-programmed TARDIS. 

As the two Time Lords locked controls and power into the approaching apocalyptic moment needed, the finality of their special relationship of colliding opposite natures was seemingly and fatefully secured. And yet, the Master would two-time the Doctor once again, but seemingly not in his evil ways of old. Somehow, he would use his own TARDIS' powers, and the natural energy of Armageda, to sub route a teleportation channel back to his former enemy's vortex travelling capsule. The Doctor would disappear in front of the battle-scarred Master, whose final look of resilient strength and thirst for revenge against the Armagedons, his eyes briefly tinged with fear and bittersweet passing - even a momentary absence of malice, perhaps - would ultimately and forever haunt the Doctor and Jo's memories as they witnessed both his demise and Armageda exploding within the Fifth Dimension via TARDIS control room screen - a colossal and spectacular event taking their old enemy and his legacy of terror and charm with it forever, as its resultant shockwaves near destroyed the Doctor's TARDIS. As the Doctor and Jo returned to UNIT, a much-needed place for the many repairs needed on the TARDIS, it was soon apparent that their own very special relationship was never quite going to be the same again, especially as Jo had in recent months become far more independent and capable, and no longer a figure to be protected under the Doctor's cape, so to speak. Indeed, this new life without the Master had created ripples of unease nearly capable of severing his ties completely to that unusual UNIT 'family' of his, and particularly - eventually - with Jo... 

Suddenly there was distraction, and a return to the present for the Doctor, his saddened thoughts broken as a red beacon light on the navigation console suddenly shone brightly, followed by a building in pitch alarm cry.

That's the collision alarm! The Doctor rushed to its ongoing light. But that's just not possible in the time/space vortex. As the wall suspended tele screen behind him activated, the swirling and irregularly conceived patterns of time and space in all their infinite variety and colour gave way to an immense spaceship, clearly damaged, barely able to control itself but nonetheless gaining on the TARDIS with incredible speed, far beyond anything he'd seen capable with this type of vehicle-certainly old and refitted, and clearly having been in some kind of intense space battle with its noticeable hull scarring and pits. With the TARDIS so small, it was surely not on the alien's radar screens. The vessel, gaining, ever gaining, looked familiar and may once have been impressive in its early days, but the Doctor's memory could not quickly and sharply pint it down. There was no time to ponder its origins, survival for himself and the TARDIS was the order of the day as his hands (with difficulty) rapidly outstretched across two console sides hitting and twist dialling knobs and flipping control levers as the ship began to make its dematerialisation escape manuevers.

It was then that the TARDIS tilted unexpectedly, savagely sending the control room into red/black darkness as lurching screams raged from the time rotor outwards, the pained noise echoing and reverberating around the Doctor as he was swiftly sent flying away from the console and its craft safety instrumentation towards the soon flipped side of the control room, where his head instantaneously collided with the nearest wall. We must have been caught in the ship's thrust- a pull that immense, and capable of drawing the TARDIS into its wake...? The Doctor was both amazed and shocked by the scenario happening to him and the TARDIS, trying to think on further escape attempts as a state of unconsciousness tried to pull its cloak around him. He picked himself up as the room jolted further then stabilised for a short period, before he travelled with the next sudden lurch that successfully landed him back at the console side he needed to be at. The TARDIS, now suffering from temporal phasing, like it was being stretched inside out, was indeed caught in the ship's mighty engine wake, and was, for the moment, incapable of escaping the pull. The Doctor's memory had barely sufficient time to recover from the ordeal before his frame seemingly stretched across the ship's interior, as if he were caught in an evolving, ever-changing hall of mirrors. Recognition from the effect suddenly came through as he shouted to himself, a 'shocker engine'! Only that type of monstrosity could have caused such tearing damage to the time/space envelope and create a maelstrom so brutal in its frontal and rear wakes. The unique drive system, five hundred years old at least created by the ultimately disdained outer rim Thurkasian scientist Taphon Shocauser, had ultimately been banned from space vessel integration across the galaxy because of the mass produced device's ongoing danger to both space travel and the spatial environments around them, literally causing giant oblivion-inducing tears. But someone had clearly forgotten to tell the occupants of this particular vessel, whose actions in entering the time/space vortex, and bringing such subsequent damage, must have been bordering on desperate. That ship had broken out of the time and space and was now heading towards a small grey planetoid. Heading? More like a collision, thought the Doctor, still struggling against the fierce environment around and affecting him, shaking himself to pieces, as its battered visage penetrated the thin atmosphere whilst the Doctor barely stabilised the TARDIS alongside it, the console room's light now in a blood red hue, the mirror effects subsided and the mighty whines and groans of his beloved vehicle ongoing but not as sharply painful to the ears. Steady, old girl, steady...the Doctor said, looking upwards to the control room ceiling and what lay beyond it with stern imperative.

The unknown vessel's engine power was suddenly dropping according to the instrument readings - the one-time breakaway chance for the TARDIS was almost upon the Doctor as he pulled back the final levers that sent the blue box ship tearing away at hull-burning speed across the planetoid's lower atmosphere, away from the clearly doomed space vessel and its now malfunctioning engines, whose yellow thrust resonators were now either powering down or exploding as the craft smashed into the grey/brown mountainous surface of the planet, its damaged hull, littered with damage, fires and explosions now erratically breaking in half whilst tearing across that surface, before what was left of each of the dead frames eventually settled down into silent twisted metallic husks, of which nasty black smoke was now pouring outwards from the remains. As the TARDIS stabilized and began a new materialization phase with its familiar wheezing/groaning sounds, the Doctor was putting out a series of electrical fires now waging war against him across the six-sided console, just as the phasing was starting to build again as he tried to simultaneously watch (with shock) the incredible destruction wreaked across the barren landscape, bearing the sad thoughts of how many people had surely lost their lives inside it. But not all, though, for the Doctor was certain that his scanner, before caught in its small fire, had prior indicated that some kind of smaller vessel, a life pod, perhaps, had ejected from its fiery frame before final impact.

His curiosity still piqued, despite his worsening condition and the intense after-effects danger building within his ship, the Doctor knew that an emergency materialisation to the planet and temporary escape from his own severely damaged vessel had now become a necessity. The old girl was sustaining the interior for as long as she could but all hell would break loose as it began repairing its dimensional circuits. As the touchdown commenced, he could feel the environment around him starting to collapse in on itself, strange noises of powerful internal life now starting-indeed most discomforting to the ears. Finally, the barely audible materialisation ping sounded as the Doctor opened the doors. With a few sparse pieces of equipment hurriedly gathered from a nearby cabinet, he speedily went through the now opened double doors only just before they conspiratorially rushed against his back to try and trap him back to its interior. Nearly falling out of the doors and onto the surface, he regained his equilibrium to look towards his troubled TARDIS, hoping that it would survive its repair transitions. Then, after a short period of physically preparing himself, he began his investigation of the planetoid, located in a star system he was clearly not familiar with, and its stranded new inhabitants...

Amongst his quickly retrieved items, the Doctor now firmly held on to an elegant silky black coloured walking stick adorned with intriguing oriental markings (an item which he vaguely remembered could have dated back to his time with Marco Polo, no less - perhaps a gift of their incident-fuelled travelling time together to Cathay?) and slowly but surely made his way up a nearby steep hill, an effort which slightly winded him whilst he ultimately got his bearings. The surrounding vista was filled with grey mist that was now being further suffused with the black now grey smoke of the crashed space craft that was at least five miles away but whose overall wreckage was so big it actually looked closer than it was. The Doctor once again grimly surveyed the wreck. The chance of survivors there did not look good at all, close-up. That an escape craft was launched indicated that they, whoever they had been left on that craft, had clearly risked their lives so as to save a person or persons of importance, the Doctor reasoned to himself. As he continued to firmly support the right side of his body with the stick, his left hand pulled out a compact humming sounding scanner/homing beacon from the small and thing pocket bag over his shoulder, which had soon locked onto some kind of energy or electrical trace for the escape pod. A longer walk lay ahead, amidst the barely visible mist layers and an accompanying eerie silence further adding to his mild anxiety- normally, such doubts about what lay ahead would fade away from his psyche, but in his current condition... Nonetheless, the Doctor pressed on as his sandy shoes left their walking marks over the hill and beyond to what looked like a tightly navigable section of small mountains...

Several hours later, and surviving one slippery fall occurrence that mildly dented his already damaged ego, the Doctor was finally nearing the trace to the escape craft, but reaching one further hill and trying to see through a denser patch of mist, a bulky black shape appeared out from nowhere beneath and soon in front of him, of which he then felt some kind of heavy instrument (the galactic equivalent of a rifle butt) deliberately knocking him back and downwards of the hill, where he would soon find himself deprived of his scanner device and bag, but was ultimately able to twist his body on a sandy outcrop so as to firmly grip his cane for dear life with the ascension, prodding it like a mountaineer's tong into the sand and slowing his body down as he picked himself up groggily and achingly. 

Some kind of humanoid was now aggressively rushing down the hill towards him, adorned in black multi-layered combat armour and wearing a kind of lightweight, circular enclosing bio computer helmet whose visual readings were looking inward into what the soldier thought was its enemy. The mist was thankfully working in the Doctor's favour as the soldier seemed unable to pin his opponent down successfully, starting to firing weapon blasts of bright red colouring in rapid succession at him, as the Doctor, having abandoned his near broken stick, used all his available strength to dodge the killer energy bolts now hitting the sandy environment with heavy whump-whump noises. Then, unluckily for his opponent, his weapon jammed from an internal overload from its too rapid use. Now was the time for the Doctor to go on the offensive after such a brief but lucky respite, going into his distinctive Venusian aikido attack posture - launching a kick that took the weapon flying out of the stunned soldier's hand before it could be used as a battering instrument against his head (the Doctor's bizarre "Haiii!" combat cry adding to the surreal effect experienced by the seemingly shocked soldier), followed by two continuous hand chops from the Time Lord directed under the helmet to the enemy's neck and a twist of the soldier's body that spectacularly sent him to the floor, despite his bulky frame. One final use of the Doctor's middle left finger found its disabling power on the soldier's forehead which finally rendered him near docile. For that brief time of physical combat, the Doctor had felt like his old self, but no sooner had he properly bent down to examine the fallen soldier's armour and tech, of which some kind of wrist device was also calling out to the unconscious soldier with its small alarm shrieking, the misery of his internal condition hit him with a vengeance, literally near passing out if he hadn't have been able to hold himself against his opponent so tightly. As the enemy's helmet was removed for inspection, the Doctor was quietly shocked at how young the fair-haired humanoid was at his feet. Tech readouts began spurring out accumulated combat data and information language in a way inside out now facing the Doctor. Too late, however, was the brief glimpse of another bulky black figure approaching from behind, followed by the strange but no less effective electrical charge from a weapon-ejection pod ensnarement net that was swiftly latching itself onto his body and restricting his weakened movements. Quickly passing out, the enveloped Doctor couldn't help but think of his former teacher's now words to him back on his home world of Gallifrey all those years ago - "Remember, Theta Sigma, too much curiosity will be the death of you..!"

---

It was an exotic aroma fusion of cooked meats and spices that blissfully awoke the Doctor's senses. Slowly regaining consciousness, his eyes acclimatised to a new and certainly different surrounding. Laying on a long and comfortable pillow on the desert floor, he carefully (and with as much dignity as possible) pulled himself upright, gently so as not to disturb his mildly suffering back, to see a circular array of long candle lights in decorative holders dotted within the small bedouin-esque tent around him, opening up his surroundings to reveal circular patterns of great and colourful beauty adorning fabrics rich in texture woven to please the eyes in ways he'd never before witnessed. This was certainly a much more appealing site than the misty environment he'd prior experienced on this unknown world. Even more intriguing than the tent surrounding however were what he could see as three 'hosts', all of whom were starting intently at him from their stations in the middle of this new realm. Firstly, and the most intimidating of the humanoid trio, was another of those distinctive armoured warriors, this one a female in a different burgundy colour armour (with adorned black striping on the top right shoulder clearly denoting a superior rank),but certainly older in years than the one he'd fought earlier, and obviously a more battle hardened and experienced figure just by her stance alone. Heightening her intimidating posture was the long scar clearly dug in (and several years old) above and below the left eye of this striking and intriguing, unattractive but ultimately attractive in her own way leader, bearing straight copper coloured hair that was stretched almost right back to the skull in a tighter than tight braid behind her neck. Equally controlled was the way the female's left hand grasped some kind of pistol that was lowered but activated by the red glow of its mildly humming energy cells, whilst a decorative ceremonial sword of about a half a metre's length was implacably attached to her right hip.

Behind the soldier was another incongruous being, a young girl in an exotic multi-layered robe fusion of crimson, cream colours mixed with lavish silks similar in texture and patterning to the fabrics around and above him. A face looking benign and serene not just in what so far slight body language was noticeable about her, but also by her clearly intrigued facial gestures - a keen sense of prescient awareness - as she looked towards this new unknown alien that had awakened before her. This young and almost totally bald girl (with the exception of a small and distinctive tassel of blond hair locked in by gold jewellery adhering to her right side), could, in Earth terms, only have been twelve or thirteen years old, but she had an interesting and enlightened beyond her years aura about her, heightened by eerie but no less striking green crystalline eyes larger than he'd ever seen before, almost see-through in clarity, whilst a small thin mouth, likely controlled and spoken from only when necessary in her past role (whatever that was!), was now clearly keen to audibly communicate. Though not noticeably visible from her exterior being, the Doctor sensed that the girl possessed some kind of aura of unique abilities, and, with such a military bodyguard, was clearly a figure of the highest importance from an unusual and clearly attractive in all ways world that he had so far never visited. In this exchange of glances, the Doctor sensed no signs of potential danger from the influential young figure, only a benign curiosity alongside, perhaps, an admiration for an elder being whose potential wisdom she might possibly and politely glean.

The female warrior was now speaking to the Doctor, clearly in harsh tones, and yet he seemingly could not understand her language, of which his lack of response to her obvious questioning was making her agitated. The TARDIS's unique translation abilities - that special telepathic circuits travelling gift - were clearly slow at kicking-in, he thought, perhaps due to his ever-weakening condition. Then, a few seconds later, it was if a light had been activated in the darkness and all was well with his hearing...

"I ask you once again," the warrior stated, voice raised in tone as the young female behind her grew ever more concerned. "Who are you, and what are you doing on this planetoid?"

"Well, I'm here because of you, actually," the Doctor replied in a voice betraying mild irritation yet fascination at the same time. His questioning opponent looked baffled. "If your ship's 'shocker' engines hadn't stormed their way into the time/space envelope and disrupted everything in their path - the environmental damage you have done will be considerable, by the way, and those engines were banned centuries ago - my own craft wouldn't have been caught in their huge wake and I wouldn't have been forced to make an emergency landing just as your ship crashed..." He paused to let his words sink in, then continued in a quieter tone. "My craft is damaged, but yours is now clearly a write-off."

Impressed but confused by the possible enemy's words, the female soldier backed down, as the young girl, so eager to speak, finally did so, with both curiosity and dignity indeed, but above all showing regret at what happened to their 'new guest'. "We can only apologise for pulling you against your wishes into our building conflicts..."

"Conflicts?" the Doctor asked, further intrigued. He was in it now, for sure.

The young girl composed herself anew. "I am La'Mya from the Kaletene. We are a spiritually peaceful and enlightened people aligned to the benevolent empire of the Galari. For millennia there has been peace in our far reaches, but in the last few years we have recognised and confronted the escalating aggression of a malignant alien race penetrating beyond our once borders, a disturbing force of evil determined to enslave all our peoples for their own mysterious causes." 

The general, later identifying herself as Senshiri, continued. "To unify and strengthen the bonds between my race, the Galari, with the Kalatene, it was decided that a union between our aging emperor and consortia La'Mya, the high priestess of her people, was in the best interests of this part of the galaxy. Such a union would have brought in the combined strengths and respects of other equally powerful outlying worlds that would surely have rallied to our cause against this common foe, whom we know of only from old legends as 'The Darkness'."

"But things clearly haven't gone to plan," the Doctor said, now rubbing his neck in the tell-tail body language signs of his that laced curiosity with mild caution.

"Indeed," continued La'Mya. "Somehow, The Darkness discovered our plans and intercepted our ship, we were heavily damaged but we shook our opponent off, our navigator and our brave engineering team sacrificing themselves by literally destroying it with our engines, escaping into time and space with an incredible burst of warp power that was soon out of control." 

The general continued once more. "Our systems then collapsed completely. We were caught between dimensions but eventually forced ourselves to break free and arrive..." she gestured fatefully towards her environment with frustration...

"But your peoples know what has happened?" The Doctor inquired.

"We did send coded messages, and we will surely be rescued, but whether our communications were also intercepted by the enemy, we do not know. The Darkness works in mysterious ways and has diverse allies working for them. We can assume that they will somehow find us before we can be rescued."

"But what about your escape vessel?" The Doctor hopefully inquired.

"Its impulse generator pod engines are severely damaged. It will surely not fly again," replied a saddened La'Mya. "Our people's sacrificed themselves for our escape, and I fear it will all have been in vain." 

The Doctor was genuinely touched by the sadness and guilt bearing down on such a clearly compassionate soul. "If only I could offer my assistance in getting you all offworld in my own space vessel."

"Your vessel is still capable of travel travel?" The general's own interests were now piqued.

"Indeed it does. It's called the TARDIS, and I am known as The Doctor." He bowed himself in service to a fascinated La'Mya. "I am a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey," the Doctor stated with subdued passion yet also a recognisable hint of confident authority.

La'Mya and General Senshiri exchanged incredulous looks. "We have also heard of 'Time Lords'," replied the general. "But like The Darkness we thought you were also stuff of long ago fables..."

"At the moment, I'm starting to physically feel like an ancient fable...," the Doctor said with a matter of fact smile, gesturing for permission to stand. With such permission granted from his audience, his body achieved its full six foot tall posture, a move which saw strength returned slowly back to his muscles. "... and so is the TARDIS, whose damage is significant," he added solemnly. "But by the time the key repairs have been achieved, well..."

As a communications device sounded on Senshiri's armour, waiting for activation, La'Mya, noticed the Doctor's overall ongoing battle with tiredness. "I apologise for your earlier injuries from one of my soldiers, Doctor," she said with sadness.

"A little overzealous, for sure..." said the Doctor, before his face betrayed a small but noble smile. "Let's leave it as youthful inexperience, shall we..?" La'Mya bowed her head back to him with the deepest of respect before indicating to the third member of the intriguing alien humanoids present in the tent, a figure now emerged from the shadowy background moving forward from the near dark- another young and striking woman, despite her face partially obscured in a hood, and also attired in a stately and resplendent gown that was also functional. She quickly and efficiently approached the stranger, respectfully bowing down to offer him an intriguing bowl of meat, herbs and soup with a large spoon, all of which he happily accepted with a polite and thoroughly charming, "Thank you, my dear," then began delightedly scooping up the food with fascination and a keenness for consumption, twisting and turning its liquid portions around his spoon and digesting it all in a thoroughly enjoying way that greatly pleased young La'Mya. "I think our food agrees with you, Doctor," she said with clear delight, happy that the aged man before her had been so hungry. If only they'd had some of old Sir Reginald Style's wine cellar on Earth to add further stimulation, the Time Lord thought to himself.

As he finished off the bowl and it was taken away by an equally delighted servant, later named as Tha'Lika, General Senshiri turned to the Doctor and La'Mya with a face of intense concern. "Our sensors have picked up the arrival into this system of an unknown energy source, and no transponder signals. Something is coming here, and we can only assume it is... them."

The Doctor was now sitting back down on his cushion, his hands flexed in contemplation and thought. This was a scenario that he could not escape from, and these people clearly needed all the help they could get. Despite his escalating poor health, which he did not plan to reveal to them, it was time for action anew. "Tell me everything you can about this 'Darkness', then let me explore your escape craft. Time is of the essence... perhaps we can pool our resources and hold out against them." La'Mya bowed to the Doctor with respect and deep appreciation, though the general looked far from confident- what could this grey-haired man in eccentric clothes truly do to help? And how did they really know that he was who he said he was, a 'Time Lord'? And yet... there was something about this Doctor, an air of 'something' about him, that could no doubt be surprising... 

"Strangers in a strange land, aren't we?" The Doctor's hands now flex-clasped together under his chin. "But there's always common ground for friendship in such difficult times," he said with his most congenial smile...

---

Trying to break free from its misty covering. the dawn before battle was drawing near, but the Doctor was too busy to study the sky, being hip-deep in work adapting pulse pods from the wrecked vessel, his actions watched on and off by four inquisitive yet baffled soldiers readying their own limited weaponry and erecting wrecked equipment as hideaway defensive cover points (but trying not to make them look obvious to the approaching enemy). There was also further combat advice to be heard from their leader.

"Where there's life there's hope. Isn't that what you always told me, Doctor?" Kneeling down in the sand to make some equipment adjustments he now heard the comforting and happy voice of Jo Grant, and was smiling to himself. "As a matter of fact, Jo, I..." 

But as he turned with response, she wasn't there... 

She had never been there. And a mild sadness of remembrance and regret passed across his face.

"Who are you talking to?" asked the general, standing in the spot where Jo's voice had spectrally emanated, the solider now looking at him with another moment of aired suspicion. The Doctor was looking far paler now, his face more lined in these past few hours of vigorous activity at the damaged escape vessel and deconstructing its energy pods...

"Just a ghost from my past." He replied with a modest smile that still confused the warrior, remembering and cherishing the enthusiastic energy of his former companion, now safely back on Earth starting a new life with another equally eccentric scientific personality. "But don't worry, it was a good ghost." He returned to his final pieces of adjusted work, but not before briefly looking towards the horizon, though actually looking far beyond it...

The time to discuss 'ghosts', no matter how positive this encounter was, had now passed. The Doctor refocused his energies and completed the hodge-podge work at hand to a varying degree of personal satisfaction. The general's scouts, returning to impart their information with efficiency and clarity, had already detected the arrival of an alien vessel, some kind of advance scout. Not a heavy-duty military cruiser, and certainly not of a class powerful enough to destroy its prey from orbit. No, this was some kind of capture ship, with the future queen-to-be the prize. Would this be a face-to-face encounter with the alien race known as The Darkness? The Doctor ultimately thought not. La'Mya had mentioned their alliances with other races, and they would be the ones doing the grunt work before their paymasters ultimately revealed themselves, holding back their likely superior powers for when needed. This was but a part of a long-term strategy for this side of the galaxy by the new invaders, for sure. General Senshiri's scouts had returned with efficiency of purpose, informing her that the enemy comprised a group of around thirty heavily armed humanoid creatures moving across the mountains towards them slowly but surely, in what the Doctor thought would likely be some kind of pincer movement now that he and his new friends had retreated back to their wrecked space vessel, whose framed pieces backed against a nearby mountainous area would work to their advantage - too difficult for the enemy to traverse and sneak attack from behind. The impulse power pod cells from La'Mya's craft were indeed damaged, but there had thankfully been enough energy and crude but adaptable technology for the Doctor to work with. Some of the TARDIS's own additional stores equipment would have been of help right now, but the old girl was not yet ready to open its doors to him - it was just too dangerous a phase in the ship's dimensional repairs, despite his long rapport with his trusty craft.

With the mists gradually clearing around them, the waiting tension amongst the small group circular was sharply palpable- thankfully, the wrecked craft had a surviving interior section capable of temporarily hiding La'Mya, protected by her finest warrior in Sanshiri and her handmaiden. Finally appeared over the mountains, this unusual mixture of alien species, all of whom bore half-cyborg, reptilian, simian and barely human-looking visages that only their mothers could ever truly have loved, soon gathered their hungry sights on the prey ahead. Clearly, it was only La'Mya that was their intended prize, with everyone else to be slain, and no witnesses to their planned brutality. But not today, the Doctor knew. If this was to be his final stand against galactic evil, he was resolutely prepared.

Having taken cover behind the carefully positioned and erected wreckage, the Doctor and the now six surviving troopers, their weapons on cell activation standby, anticipatedly waited for the familiar noises of approaching humanoids. The brief period proved eerie, but the expectant noise of the large group was soon in earshot. They have no overhead surveillance equipment, the planet's atmosphere must be blocking certain signals- luckily for us, thought the Doctor, now smiling to himself. They're having to do this the old fashioned way. "Would you come into my parlour said the spider to the fly," the Doctor whispered the old saying with confidence to the young trooper next to him, the one who had previously and spectacularly tried to club him into an unconscious state on the mountain with that 'youthful exuberance' of his. The youngster looked completely nonplussed by his words. "Oh, never mind...," the Doctor responded. He carefully peered to see the ominous sight of the soldiers on final approach. "Get ready," the Doctor whispered to the equally trigger-happy men soon nodding in return, whilst he himself thumbed his trusty sonic screwdriver device in readiness of what was to come.   

The animalistic sounds of the enemy now closely audible, the Doctor instantly shot his frame upwards and above his protective cover, where he joyously shout-announced to the surprised uninvited guests, "Good morning, gentleman! What a charming day for a picnic!" The aliens were clearly a surprised audience, unsure of what they were seeing - a bizarrely attired and clearly deranged Tellurian being, before the sonic screwdriver in his hand pitch-activated the camouflaged energy pulse minefield that they all had all walked across, and whose detonated explosions now underfoot shot upwards as one from the soil and made their maximum impact of maiming, killing or dispersing the enemy troops into the air over a large area further away from the ship wreckage. The surprise was now on their side as the Doctor led the charge for the queen-to-be's small group of furious soldiers, now firing their energy weapons against what was upright left of the enemy, whilst the Doctor led his own physical array of physical action, notably Venusian Aikido and Martian Kiri-Tu Karate, that rendered several mercenaries into unconsciousness. But one of the soldiers, a dirty-faced, three-eyed insect grotesque, having fell to one of the Doctor's swift hand chops, did at least manage to get one of his own grenades off of his bandolier, launching it at the Doctor as he prepared further combat. Only just peripherally seeing it heading his way, the Doctor dropped face down to the sand, barely avoiding the nearby explosion that sprayed its debris onto him. Thoroughly winded and mildly shocked, the Doctor struggled to pick himself up from the sand surface as the noise of fierce fighting around him continued. He soon found a pair of black booted feet directly in his path.  

Immaculately presented as ever, with the tight collar of his Nehru suit crisply under his Adam's Apple, the Master looked down at the Doctor with sardonic disappointment during his enemy's difficult time. "You've proved yourself ingenious as ever, Doctor, but such endeavours as these are ultimately futile." The Master's intense eyes looked at the conflicts around him - the noise of energy blasters, the grunts of intense hand-to-hand physical combat, of lives being lost - and gave a disdained and thoroughly disappointed look at the foe beneath him. "I offered you a half share of the universe, of ultimate power that was yours to shape, and yet you denied me." He let the words sink in before continuing. "And look how far you've come..." he tut-tut-ed with anger and pity at the pathetic Doctor's injured, near-beaten frame. "... a lonely grave on a pitiful, nondescript quarry planet." He seemingly kicked a small sand debris off one of his black boots with assured arrogance, as his moustached, spiteful sneer registered within the Doctor's mind. "Now, you're no better than a lamb to the slaughter..."

A further explosion to his side suddenly rocked the Doctor back into the chaos of the here and now as the Master's vindictive frame disappeared... replaced by another large booted foot, this time belonging to an incoming mercenary who kicked the Doctor onto his back with tremendous force and was preparing to shoot him at close-range before that younger trooper from the royal guard, whose name the Doctor had forgetfully never enquired. tacked his opponent down and dutifully sacrificed his life for a man he barely knew, killing both himself and his repulsive enemy via an energy weapon overload. 

With these deaths it seemed that the battle had finally ended - it had lasted a mere ten minutes at least, but its after-effect and its place in galactic history would no doubt last a lifetime, as the weary and even more dirty Doctor, saddened at the bloodied and deformed corpse of the young soldier, tried to adjust his frame and his muddied clothes to help attend to the injured. Only two of the heroic soldiers had ultimately survived but the majority of the mercenary force was dead, its small band of survivors soon escaped into the evaporating daylight mist before a hideous dagger-like craft penetrated the heavens...  

---

It's time to let go...

As the bodies of their four fallen comrades were neatly and honourably prepared for the soon arrival of a rescue ship back to Galari, and group prayers and ceremonial honours celebrating their lives and sacrifices were made by La'Mya and Tha'Lika, the Doctor, having afterwards undergone a brief period of surprisingly restful sleep in the young leader's resurrected and luxurious for its size tent, was now preparing to bid 'adieu' to his new friends, of which the TARDIS had already sent its own unique telepathic signal to him that it was in some kind of departure ready state. 

In the short passing of both time and of conflict, the planetoid's natural environment was now fully revealed with unique, eye-opening clarity, its once distorted vegetation metamorphized into a muted colour array of small plants that littered the landscape, clearly ready to bloom, their life-cycle no longer strangled by the eerie environment they'd once been enveloped in - the coming of humanoids to this world must surely have activated an important life cycle, the Doctor thought with a puzzled air. Such was the collective visage that a bittersweet recollection came to his mind of that special lifetime ago he spent walking the hills and mountains of that striking wilderness surrounding his home planet of Gallifrey, and his regular visits to a once old friend whose words gave him hope for the future. With La'Mya and her surviving entourage soon departing, such hope had not just been reactivated on this once seemingly dead world, it looked set to prosper beyond and across this troubled corner of the universe, whatever nightmares the 'Darkness' might wrought. Perhaps such a rejuvenation might even have rubbed its warmth and positivity into the Doctor's damaged and weakened frame? "Yes, Jo," he thought to himself. "Where there's life there is indeed hope..."

With his final goodbye, the Doctor's weary face gave way to a relaxed smile of nostalgia and warmth as he bowed to the positively radiant-looking La'Mya and they both clasped each other's outstretched hands in warm reflection and in displaying his honour to her upcoming union. As a goodbye present, as if by magic from his right hand jacket collar, he presented her with a special collection of flowers from the planet's wilderness, a beautiful array of colours indeed, presented as a pre-wedding gift for the upcoming happy time.

"My dear La'Mya, you radiate strength and youthful courage so much like a former travelling companion of mine, and you also have the determination and integrity of my current friend, Sarah." He gave a comfortable smile with his words, and nodded his head. "I have no doubt that this part of the galaxy will benefit greatly from your rule for a very long time to come." As La'Mya near blushed with his words and keenly bowed back to him, the Doctor finally parted company from the small group (General Senshiri nearby making a gesture of thanks to him with her raised ceremonial sword) and pondered further to himself on what had been an intriguing and highly interesting private little war adventure. Not turning around he smiled when La'Mya near shouted towards him, surely breaking protocol, "Goodbye, my noble Doctor." 

As the Doctor walked wearily once again towards the TARDIS, his hand held to the side of the vehicle, whilst the other once more patted it with reliable affection. "Just us again, old girl," he said with a kind of mild sadness, whilst withdrawing the intriguingly shaped TARDIS key from his muddied waist coat. "Back to the vortex we go... and back to our other 'home.'" As a matter of fact, he considered, poor Sarah must be worried out of her mind with what happened to me on Metebelis III. Seemingly forgetting, or not wanting to think of his grim personal situation, the Doctor smiled to himself with an idea. I'll simply get myself to UNIT HQ with a well-timed arrival literally seconds before she's returned from that troublesome Buddhist retreat, the one that started all this!

Watching the tall figure enter his vehicle, of which a radiant hum was now audibly discernible before its doors closed, a quietly fascinated La'Mya, tightly clutching to her chest the flowers she had received, and the stern intimidating shape of Senshiri, her hand back to its ceremonial place by her ancient sword weapon, watched as the unique and clearly very special vehicle began its familiar wheezing and groaning noises a short time later, its distinctive frame slowly starting to disappear into the ether of time and space. But as Senshiri looked towards her queen, she noticed with concern the quiet deep tears rapidly descending down her youthful, innocent cheeks. "Milady...?" she enquired with puzzled near shock and concern towards her dearest friend and leader.

La'Mya looked towards the still disappearing shape, her body now near shaking as she quietly wept. "Whilst he slept, I did all that I could for him with my healing powers, but I fear it will help little. The time is coming in which our friend will soon be passing into the night." 

The TARDIS shape was going...

"I grieve for him," she continued. "I grieve for us, and I grieve for the universe that such a force for good will be lost to all that needs him..." 

Going...

Holding the flowers still tighter to her chest in a gesture of both strength and remembrance, La'Mya tried but failed to hold her barely concealed emotions in. 

Gone...

With the last part of the TARDIS's fatigued blue outer shell visage finally passed, further small tears, almost becoming crystalline, continued to descend La'Mya's cheeks. Unused to seeing the young and confident leader in such a vulnerable condition, of which her distress had now firmly passed itself on to Senshiri herself, La'Mya's final choked-up words resonated across the echoing sands... 

"We will never forget you..." 

THE END

This story is respectfully dedicated to the late great master storyteller who gave so much reading pleasure to so many worldwide fans of Doctor Who, and whom co-created such an audience pleasing era for the series' Third incarnation that we will never forget: Terrance Dicks.

TIME INVADERS! CELEBRATING FIFTY YEARS OF 'DAY OF THE DALEKS'!

Five years after their seeming monochrome demise with the Skaro civil war, those iconic Daleks were back with a vengeance, and in colour for the first time on TV, with Day of the Daleks, an Earth-based UNIT adventure mixing an intriguing and intelligent time travel concept by Louis Marks (with the Daleks inventively added to the mix by script editor Terrance Dicks) and action. The story, opening the show's ninth season in January, 1972, was a ratings success that guaranteed the return of the Doctor's greatest baddies across the next three years.

Enjoy this selection of famous action posed publicity images of Pertwee with the scene-stealing Daleks (and their Ogron servants) taken on location (presumably by regular BBC stills man Don Smith) during the location filming of the 1971-made story at Dropmore House (Buckinghamshire), so effectively used in marketing and merchandising over the remainder of the Third Doctor's era.

On site enemies!

Image colourised by Deborah Brown.

Ready for battle.

It's behind you!

Surrounded!

OUT THIS MONTH - 'DOCTOR WHO - THE COLLECTION: SEASON 2'

Image composition by Lee Binding for BBC STUDIOS.

The original, you might say, returns...

Here's the info on what's in this packed to the brim release.

COMING SOON TO YOUR TIME VORTEX! 'DOCTOR WHO - THE COLLECTION: SEASON 2' | KOOL TV

Doctor Who The Collection Season 2 Limited Edition Packaging – Merchandise Guide - The Doctor Who Site

Get it here:

Doctor Who: The Collection Season 2 (Limited Edition) Blu-Ray: Amazon.co.uk: William Hartnell: DVD & Blu-ray

WHERE IS THE CHIMERON QUEEN?

Now arrived in Wales on planet Earth, the despicable mercenaries known as the Bannerman, led by the malicious Gavrok, hunt for the elusive Chimeron Queen.

The story is loved by many, but I always thought that Delta and the Bannerman ran out of plot by its second episode, and that, by the third, the Bannerman threat had become laughable, despite a strong early introduction. Thankfully, guest star Don Henderson retained great menace as Gavrok, and was one of the short duration adventure's major saving graces.

JURY DIS-SERVICE!

The players for good and evil gather, from all across the galaxy, within a visual evidence examined (and at times physically doctored) series of adventures set in the past, present and future, as our soon-angry, justice-seeking Doctor faces extinction from his own corrupt race, whilst 'The Ultimate Foe' lies in waiting with his own deadly agenda. Great composition artwork for The Trial of a Time Lord's epic season, by Will Brooks.