Short Trips 11 - A Christmas Treasury by Paul Cornell

Author:Paul Cornell [Cornell, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: ibm
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The Tomb of Rassilon

Im-m-m-ortality! If you control the Tomb, then at the start of each round you can roll one die. Your champion gains the

amount of strength shown on the die.

UNIT Christmas Parties:

Christmas Truce

Terrance Dicks

'I hate Christmas,' said Jo Grant moodily.

`So do I,' said Captain Yates. 'Always did.'

`Me too,' said Sergeant Benton.

There was a pre-Christmas lull at UNIT HQ. They were lounging about in the laboratory, drinking Mike Yates's special

Bunsen-burner-brewed tea, and annoying the Doctor, who was tinkering with a small yet complicated component of the

TARDIS's Time Vector Generator.

He looked up from hi129

s tinkering. 'You're a cheerful lot! Why do you all hate Christmas?'

Jo considered. 'It's the build-up. Promises so much, then it's always a disappointment. Always.'

Ì wanted a bike one Christmas,' said Mike. 'Set my heart on it. Know what I got? The Children's Encyclopaedia!'

'My girl gave me the push at a Christmas party,' said Benton.

Ìt's great when you're a little kid,' said Jo. 'It's magic then. But once you grow up a bit, it always seems a let-down.

Too much to eat and drink, and family rows over the Christmas turkey.' She looked at the Doctor. 'You wouldn't

understand. I mean, you're not...'

She broke off in confusion, realising all the things the Doctor wasn't. Not human for a start. Was God around on other

planets? Presumably, since He created the universe. Did other planets have saviours whose births had to be commemorated?

The Doctor smiled. 'Most planets have some kind of ceremony, around the winter solstice, Jo. Helps to cheer people up

when everything's at its darkest.'

The Brigadier marched into the room, brandishing a memo. Captain Yates and Sergeant Benton got to their feet and

came to attention. The Doctor and Jo, less disciplined, stayed perched on their lab stools.

The Brigadier looked round. 'The usual hive of industry, I see. Well, I'm glad you're all here. New directive from

Geneva.'

`Something exciting, sir?' asked Mike hopefully.

`Thrilling,' said the Brigadier dryly. 'Since last year's was such a success, this year we're to have an official Christmas

party. Geneva thinks it'll be good for morale. They're even sending a VIP to attend.'

He looked around the circle of blank faces.

`Well, I can see you're all highly delighted.'

`Who's the VIP, sir?' said Mike, perhaps feeling that he should show some interest.

The Brigadier consulted his papers. 'Chap called Fischer. Doctor Fischer. Arrives Heathrow tomorrow evening. Now

then, assignments.'

He looked thoughtfully at the group. They looked back apprehensively: all except the Doctor, who had returned to his

tinkering.

`Right,' said the Brigadier briskly. 'Sergeant Benton, you will pick up Doctor Fischer at Heathrow tomorrow evening. Take

my staff car.'

`How do I recognise him, sir? Have we got a photo?'

`Don't worry, Mr Benton, you'll recognise him. Apparently he bears a striking resemblance to a well-known

celebrity.'

`Really, sir? Who's that?'

Àccording to my colleague in Geneva, he's the image of Father Christmas! Now then, Captain Yates, you're our

Entertainments Officer.'

`Didn't know we had one, sir.'

`We do now, and you're it. You'll be responsible for organising the party, drinks, canapes and so on. Can't rely on an

alien spaceship turning up every time, can we? We'll use the mess, better get some decorations up.

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