Doctor Who: BBC Short Trips [003] - Short Trips and Sidesteps by Stephen Cole & Jacqueline Rayner

Author:Stephen Cole & Jacqueline Rayner
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 2000-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

Gone Too Soon

by Christopher M. Wadley

The problem with time travel was the glimpses of the future it allowed.

Most people, normal people, breezed through life, blissfully unaware of what awaited them around the next corner. The Doctor knew what waited. And the Doctor did not want to know.

He sat alone in his TARDIS, staring at the ceiling, musing. He had thought of himself as invincible, indestructible, a one-bound-and-he-was-free kind of guy. He had imagined that his sixth incarnation, wittier, braver, stouter and more assertive than the rest, was going to last him for years. Now, on a journey into his personal future, he had discovered information that he was to be robbed of life in his prime. In that ironic way that people do, having learned of the short while left to him, he had spent that time doing absolutely nothing.

‘I’m sick of this!’ he announced to thin air. ‘It isn’t fair! Just as I’m getting used to a body, I have to sacrifice myself in some hopelessly heroic way and start all over again!’ He folded his arms dramatically, jutting out his bottom lip. After a moment, he relaxed, dropping his hands to his lap again. Sulking was no fun if you did not have an audience. He drummed his fingers on his knee. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, a mischievous thought, one that was sure to annoy those with authority over him. A smug, feline grin cracked his features.

‘Oh, yes,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Yes! Normally I’d say I couldn’t possibly… But what if my next persona turns out to be staid and dull? Then I really couldn’t possibly. Whereas now…’

The Doctor leapt to his feet, a blur of colour and activity. His patchwork coat flowed behind him as he ran his large hands over the buttons and switches on the TARDIS console. The time rotor juddered into life and his ship was sucked into the time vortex.

‘Whereas now,’ he concluded, ‘I can do whatever I like!’ He stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and smirked.

The Doctor climbed the hill majestically, head held high and proud.

The wind lifted the golden locks of his hair, blowing them behind him like the mane of a lion. He stumbled over some loose shale, but never faltered from his path. At last, he reached the summit, and looked down. Vast, rocky plains surrounded him, the terrain a mixture of reds, blacks, greens and greys. A light breeze played around him and he breathed deeply of the mid-morning air. He threw out his arms to either side of him, thrusting his chest forward. And then he shouted.

‘Halloo!’ he cried. The sound reverberated out, echoing back to him from each exposed surface. He chuckled. Then he pulled an elaborate penknife from his pocket. He squatted on his haunches and felt with his hands for a smooth piece of rock. Gently, methodically, he carved out some tiny letters. Then, thrusting his hands into his pockets and whistling a marching tune, he strode back the way he had come.

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