Although David Tennant's Doctor remained in his timeless pin-striped brown suit for the adventure, Donna (played by Catherine Tate) chose this classy 'flapper' style period costume for the occasion.
The show's boss Russell T Davies was impressed with Lloyd when the actor appeared on a recent episode as a student at a posh school.And when current Doctor Who David Tennant leaves the series, which is rumored to be in two year's time (09), Davis is convinced he has found a ready made replacement.
He says, "After his audition I sent a note to the casting director saying, 'He's not just good for Baines (his character), that's the next Doctor.Seriously. He's so brilliant."
Lloyd currently plays Will Scarlett in the British TV series Robin Hood.
Now... I'm not sure of what to make of this... it could be a complete lie, but I did really like the actor and wouldn't mind him being the next Doctor... we shall have to see.
Not that it made any difference weather her eyes were open or not, the room was so full of dust that is was near impossible to see anything… but the fact that her eyes were now open at least proved to her that she wasn’t dead, something which she found grimly comforting.
From somewhere within the thick, waxy cloud of dust, a small voice made a small sound that sounded…
‘Oh,’ said the voice. It sounded very familiar.
‘Fyffe?’
‘Fyffe!?’ she chocked. There was no response of the child from within the powdery environment, so she fought for control over her breathing, and pulled herself up, feeling her way along to where she remembered the window to be.
It came as a bit of a shock to find that there was no window.
It came as even more of a shock to find that it had been replaced by a hole in the wall.
It came as an even larger and more horrifying shock to find that there was in fact no wall at all.
'Oh, wow,’ she said glumly.
Even as she stared, the layers of heavy dust pored out of the hole like an extremely dirty waterfall, and the room behind her began to clear. Almost fearful of what she would see,
Half the room was gone. If she had had a clear head at this point,
Then she realized what she had been staring at for the last three minutes, as standing in front of the rubble and gazing serenely at the disarray of bricks, was Fyffe.
‘Fyffe!’ said
‘The moth’s dead,’ Fyffe said despondently.
‘You what?’
Fyffe turned around slowly. ‘The moth,’ she said carefully, ‘is dead.’
Fyffe turned and let out another small noise of surprise.
‘Oh!’ she said.
Fyffe straightened up and turned back to
‘But… it’s only a stick,’ she said gently.
‘He should have it with him,’ Fyffe murmured to herself.
Fyffe turned away and walked towards the still locked door. The giant hole in the wall had ensured that all of the smoke had cleared, but unfortunately, the only thing that it led to was a large drop to the far away street below. Despite their survival of the explosion, they were still trapped in the room. Under
‘Fyffe,’
Fyffe pushed gently against the door, almost as if she was testing it. ‘He will need it,’ she said, ‘he can do without I suppose,’ she twirled the twig between her fingers and looked thoughtfully at the door. ‘We probably need it more,’ she said after a while.
‘He didn’t vanish,’ said Fyffe. She twisted her head around and glanced at
‘But…’
Fyffe let her hand slowly slip off the woodwork.
‘The bomb…’
‘I feel bad for the moth,’ said Fyffe, glancing back at the misshapen pile of rubble.
Fyffe turned around slowly and gave
‘I know there is, Fyffe!’
Fyffe cocked her head to one side. ‘He probably just used the spatio-temporal mass converter to firstly change the molecular structure of the components atoms, and then of his bodies own atomic configuration so that they could shift through impermeable matter,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘It doesn’t explain the explosion,’ said Fyffe, ‘but if he were dead, it would feel different… there’s no sorrow, no feeling of remorse of grief. I like to trust my impulses, which is why there must be a perfectly good explanation for everything… Maybe his distorted composition meant that the emission of the discharge passed through his permeable state, rather that rebounding off the usual impervious one.’
‘What?’
Without warning, Fyffe thrust the twig into the keyhole of the door and began to twist her arm sharply. She flashed
‘What?’ said
‘What what?’ said Fyffe, her attention focused on the twig.
Madison was about to open her mouth and say ‘what’ again, when something deep inside of her sent up a rapid volley of warning sparks and she took two sharp steps towards the girl. ‘Don’t, what ever you do, start that off again!’ she said.
Fyffe shrugged but didn’t turn around.
‘Do you honestly think that you’re going to open the door with– ?’
There was a sudden sharp click that filled the room with an irritatingly smug noise.
Then a silence followed.
Very slowly,
Very slowly, Fyffe pulled the stick from the key hole and gave the door a tentative push.
Very slowly, the door swung open, accompanied by a faint creaking noise, which sounded to
Fyffe leaned casually out of the door and glanced around at the deserted hallway beyond. It was hauntingly empty, which made perfect sense considering the building had just been savagely bombed. Within the long stretch of the dim and hollow corridor, Fyffe’s small blond head shimmered as she twisted it left and right, then, coming to a final decision, she stepped out of the room and grinned.
‘Fyffe…’ said
The girl took no notice and bounced slightly on her feet as she considered what to do next.
‘This way,’ she said, before turning smartly to her right and disappearing from
There was a moment’s pause as
‘Fy–’
But before
Within the room,
‘What are you doing?’
Fyffe raised her arm and pointed to the left, ‘going,’ she explained.
Fyffe looked in the direction she was pointing and lowered her arm. ‘Maybe,’ she said, and tucked the twig behind her ear.
‘Okay, well just don’t move for now, got it?’ said
Fyffe blinked. ‘Did I?’
A wide smile spread across the girls face. ‘That’s right, I did,’ she said triumphantly, ‘and now we go and do whatever we have to do to make things good again.’ It sounded so simple when she said it.
Before
A small problem arose when, steeping into the hallway, she found it was completely devoid of anything that even remotely resembled a manically happy girl. In fact, it was completely devoid of anything at all.
‘Fyffe?’ she called cautiously.
There was no response, and
*****
Within the empty city streets, a small cluster of blackened figures stalked along the winding roads. There was nothing tense or fearful about their movements, almost as if they didn’t understand the meaning of the word, instead they moved with a calm grace and perfectly calculated prowess.
There was nothing that they feared within the broken and ruined city walls… they were the hunters that were poised to strike. Whatever they were searching for, it would be found. But, for all their unflinching presence, they were unaware that they were being watched.
From a safe distance behind their footsteps, Fyffe crouched behind a blackened crate and watched as their forms steadily moved away. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ears, her mouth twisted in a calculating expression, and her crackling blue eyes held something deep and calculating.
****
Over half a mile below her, the sewers of the city sulked and crept in their sluggish movements. They were the first thing that had been built when Tendra has been founded and as a result, they were the most well built thing of the city, meaning that on one ever went down there.
On a small ledge that was squashed into the curve of the sewer wall, the Doctor lay unconscious. His left arm was thrust outwards and dangled off the edge of the ledge, and his face was contorted into a strained expression. The fingers of his right hand rested lightly on his stomach and were clenched together as they gripped onto a strange oval shaped lump.
To an Alkoden, bewilderment is like second nature. It’s buried so deep into their genetic make up that, from the moment it has developed a consciousness within its mother’s womb, it will already have become confused about its position within the world. The last thing a heavily pregnant mother needs is an unborn child that is already questioning its existence despite the fact that it will sill be uncertain of what it actually is.
In fact, if an Alkonden was ever born that did not display this permanent state of mild bewilderment, it would probably end up being shunned by its fellow Alkoden, kicked out of their closely formed flocks for being different, and inevitably have to live a solitary life somewhere far away and unheard of. The remaining Alkonen within the flock would never speak of it again, and would therefore be completely unaware of its much more fulfilling life of distant travels and adventures, which would most likely end in either a long and happy existence due to its lack of stupidly, naïve bewilderment, or in said Alkoden eating his own foot.
However, none of the information that is stated above is of any use, or importance, as the Alkoden which is currently sitting upon the upturned shell of the TARDIS, is one of the most bewilderedly and confused Alkoen to date. If these fluffy koala-like creatures had the intelligence and forward evolution to arrange some form of hierarchy, within their flock, then this particular Alkoden would have already been promoted to alpha male for the simple fact that it was the most permanently bewildered out of the lot of them.
It sat bolt upright on top of the blue box and stared forward blankly. Then, very slowly and keeping the remainder of its body ridged, it extended its back leg forwards and carefully raised it until it was suspended a few inches in front of its face. Once in this position, it froze again as the seconds ticked by. After a full ten minutes of some detailed imitation of a rock, the Alkoden tilted its head forward slightly, and slyly poked the corner of its tongue out of its mouth before freezing again.
When the suspension had developed to a point that was beyond normal consumption, it let off a small purring noise and gave its extended foot a long, slow lick.
It was at this point, that voices drifted up from within the forests dense wall of trees. The Alkoden stopped in mid-lick and twisted its eye sideways to try and sense if these strange noises would present any danger to it. If the owners of these voices had appeared within the clearing, they would have been incredibly shocked to see a police box on its side in the mud, with a small, fluffy and bewildered looking creature sat atop of it, frozen the process of licking its own leg.
As it were, the owners of the voices did not appear and, if the Alkoden had been able to understand the language they were talking it, or for that matter, any language at all, it is most likely that its already bewildered face would have taken on the impression of complete bewilderment (if that were possible.)
‘To the east?’ said the first voice, which sounded like a disgruntled warthog.
‘That’s where the explosions are from,’ came the curt reply.
Still motionless as it sat on the TARDIS, the Alkoden blinked in a confused manner. Although the first voice sounded hideously forced out in a grunting, squealing manner, it sounded practically normal when compared to the second. There was something, holily wrong with the smooth harshness that clipped its response to the warthog sounding voice. The Alkoden may not have had any intelligence, and spent its life in a state of permanent disorientation, but even its fur rippled and stood on end as the harsh and callous tones drifted through the trees.
‘There have been a lot of explosions,’ said Warthog, ‘you think there will be anything left?’
There was no reply from the second voice; it appeared almost as though Warthog should not be dignified with an answer. Apparently unknown to this, Warthog plunged on, as though he was nervous of his companion, and felt the need to fill the sudden silence.
‘I mean… I know our intent is for survivors, but… what if she’s killed be mistake?’
Still more silence from the second voice.
‘I mean…’ Warthog blundered on, ‘I know she’s not supposed to be killed so, of course, she wont be… that would be to careless. But… what if there were complications.’
‘Who do you think we are?!’ the second voice suddenly spat.
‘I–’
‘Do you honestly have so little faith in your own people!’
‘But–’
‘Listen very closely,’ someone with more intelligence than an Alkonden would almost be able to visualize the owner of the voice leaning threateningly over Warthog, teeth bared and eyelids squeezed together, showing only rage infested slits of pupils. ‘Even as we draw near to the city walls, a fresh attack will be unleashed. We have been notified that the perception filter that was placed over the Library has been breeched, and that someone was in the data base.’
‘But–!’
‘The language barriers we established are still in place, so no information was intercepted. But now that it has been discovered, the perception filter will soon fade - it was only placed there as a temporary solution after the Mayor was taken – so part of the reason for the attack is to ensure that the Library is destroyed. A special configured bomb has already been sent over to it and should go off in under seven minutes. Other than that, there is nothing more that you need to know, understand? From this point on, all doubt will cease. Otherwise I shall kill you.’
There was a long silence that followed. Then, very faintly, the noise of footsteps was heard, growing steadily quieter as they moved further away. Once the noises of rustling and crunching disappeared, the Alkoden slowly lowered its leg and blinked stupidly.
The words had meant nothing to it, so it was not troubled by what they had been discussing in such a fearful and ominous way. Completely unaware of this revelation, the creature lowered its large, fluffy head and thumped it onto the top of the TARDIS, trying to listen for any noise within. When nothing could be heard, it tried once more at giving the blue box a welcoming sniff, though this plan was somewhat thwarted by the fact that it had no idea as to which part of it was the front and which was the back.
In the end, the Alkoden gave up and sat once more on top of the lifeless ship and proceeded to eat its own toenails with intense concentration. Somewhere east from the creatures spot, a wave of missiles and bombs was suddenly unleashed upon the distant city.
******
The room shook.
Well… to say that would be a complete understatement, but for the narrative purposes of moving the story along, and not dwelling to much on those “heart-wrenchingly-heavy-lurches-send-the-room-jolting-sideways-with-unimaginable-force” descriptions, it could be stated simply that the room shook.
Stumbling for balance between the heavy explosions, The Doctor fumbled frantically with the bomb in front of him.
‘Do something!’ she screamed.
The snappy reply of, ‘Working on it!’ was only just audible over the thudding blasts. Much like in the TARDIS, a large lump of ceiling made a sudden bid for freedom and collapsed onto the floor sending a cloud of dust into the air. The Doctor glanced upwards nervously, and then re-focused his attention back onto the bomb as
‘Come on!’ she bellowed, ‘I thought you could get me out of this! You’re a… a… Time whatever you said. Can’t you do something!?’
The Doctor glanced up from the bomb, his face full of panicked determination. ‘Of course I can do something!’ he shouted back, ‘I can stop us being blown up for a start,’ he murmured to himself.
‘Hurry the hell up!’ she screamed, once the room had stopped shaking.
As she struggled, she saw the Doctor pulling himself upright and staggering back towards the bomb. After narrowly avoiding being hit by a secondary lump of ceiling, he collapsed next to the metal cylinder and took two steadying breaths, before diving back into the bomb’s complicated maze of wires.
Deciding it would be easier to stay slumped in the corner for now;
The Doctor grimaced and ran his hand distractedly through his hair.
‘What’s the problem!?’ called
‘I can do it…’ she heard him murmur. He glanced up at her and Fyffe. The bomb was down to two minutes. You could see it counting down… it was very much like watching the remains of your life ticking away. There was an unpleasant, gut-wrenching crunch and the room lurched again, flinging its contents violently to one side.
‘Hurry up!’
‘I am hurrying!’
‘Hurry faster!’
‘How can you hurry faster?’
‘I don’t care,’
‘I’m trying!’
‘What the hell’s the problem?
‘I’m running out of time!’
‘Oh, the Irony!’
The Doctor shook his head and tried to hold two pieces of grey wire together with shaking hands. Glancing up, he saw
He dug his hands into his jacket and trouser pockets despite the fact that he knew his sonic screwdriver was buried somewhere in the wreckage of his ship. Feeling his hands close on something small and tube like, the Doctor’s hearts momentarily leaped, that is, until he pulled out a small and disheveled looking twig from the depths of his clothing.
Feeling a slight sense of guilt of breaking his promise, which was largely overpowered by his frustration of impending doom, he flung the stick away and plunged his hand into the tangle of wires. In retaliation to his harassment of the cylinder, it proceeded to give him several electric shocks which ran up and down his arm. The Doctor let out an incomprehensible noise of surprise and pain, and yanked his arm back out of the bomb.
Okay, he thought wildly to himself, that didn’t work, so lets just calmly move on to plan two… he peered once again into the small hatch where he had been previously exploring. Okay, he thought wildly to himself, can’t think of a plan two that doesn’t involve a few extra hours or a large chainsaw, so… lets just keep doing what I was doing before and hope to what ever god, or higher entity that’s sat up there laughing at me, that I find the fuse wire.
It seemed the best he could hope for which, admittedly, wasn’t much, but the Doctor never liked to completely give up hope. Oh, sure, he could be as cynical and sarcastic as he liked about his impending doom, but he would never allow himself to admit complete defeat even from the most stupid of situations.
Pausing to push his hair away from his face and screwing up his eyes to concentrate over the shuddering of the building, the Doctor momentarily glanced upwards.
‘Fyffe!’ he called out as he spotted the girl. ‘Get away from the window!’ It seemed like a sensible thing to shout in the current circumstances, but the girl glanced towards him as though he was insane.
‘
Thrusting herself away from the door,
‘There’s a moth,’ she said, pointing towards the glass.
‘Right!’ she responded stupidly.
‘This moth here,’ said Fyffe.
The room suddenly lurched again.
‘Fyffe! Move!’ came the Doctor’s cries from somewhere behind
‘I don’t think it’s very happy,’ commented Fyffe with a concerned look on her face.
‘For god’s sake, Fyffe!’
Fyffe looked up at
‘Why?’ she asked vaguely, ‘is that likely to happen?’
‘We’re about to die!’ repeated
Fyffe’s face took on a momentary image of concern.
‘You don’t think it will hurt the moth?’
The room began to shake, building and growing in force until it was impossible to stand.
The quaking of the building grew to such a pitch that the metal cylinder began bouncing up and down on the floor, emitting loud clangs every time it thumped down. The Doctor flinched and raised his hands too try and stop the bomb from thudding into him. It was taking bad damage and, even as he managed to grab it to stop it moving, the rhythmic bleeping noise of the countdown rose in speed and pitch.
‘Both of you shut up, right now!’ he shouted at them. ‘I need to concentrate or BANG, got it!?!’
‘Right!’ agreed the Doctor, his hands furiously twisting wires, ‘I can deal with stopping bombs - I just have to find the right bit of wire! How the hell am I supposed to turn you off?!’
Unable to cope with the continuous heaving and quaking of the building,
‘What?’ came the answered groan.
‘Go away!’
‘You should have never followed meeee…’ came the low, piteous moaning of
The Doctor allowed his head to thump against the cylinder in a complete abandonment of patience. Of all the times… His face suddenly split into a wide grin.
‘
There was an uncomfortably loud explosion that shook the room again and caused everyone to lurch forcibly sideways. Another chink of ceiling fell in.
‘Well… no,’ admitted the Doctor after the rumbling had died away, ‘but I thought I should say something nice, as we don’t have long until boom time, and if this is the kind of the bomb that I think it is, and I know for a fact that it is, then it should have a detachable converter…’ his searching hands located a oval shaped lump that was attached to the mettle casing, ‘and if I give it a bit of jiggery pokery…’
The wining bleeps of the bomb, that had been punctuating the background rumble of explosions, suddenly grew to an almost unbearable climax.
‘See ya, then!’ the Doctor called cheerily as he hefted the large bomb between his grip.
‘Doc–’ she began.
Then, before her eyes, the Doctor – who was still clutching the large bomb in an awkward embrace to his chest – walked through the wall with little less than a serene ripple of the brickwork.
The seconds ticked away in a sudden horrific silence.
And then the bomb exploded from somewhere far below.
I.M. Foreman
Foreman was a Gallifreyan monk who was driven from the monastries following Rassilon's intuitive revolution.
In the wilderness he found 12 other Gallifreyan's all of whom had no memory of who they were. They formed a travelling show which was actually a complex, 13 act show that used time travel in order to show all aspects and bodies of Foreman, one for each regeneration.
As a priest, Foreman had been given the gift of regeneration but in those days it was much less stable, meaning he tended to absorb the DNA of whatever he encountered. During an attack on the planet Dust, the 13th incarnation was released. It was the most unstable of all his regenerations which tries to eat everything and absorb it into its own structure but eventually it blends itself with the.
The other regeneration aspects are sent back through time, their travelling show exploding as it ends up back in the Dark Times just before the first I.M. Foreman finds it, then triggering a regeneration for all 12 aspects
Former Doctor Who Colin Baker has returned to the set of the hit show after 20 years.
He met latest Doc David Tennant and co-star Kylie Minogue as they filmed the Christmas special.
Baker, 64, said: “The atmosphere was as special as I remembered it.
Advertisement“I had a moment of envy seeing David surrounded by bizarre aliens.
“We chatted. And I met Kylie Minogue, who was relishing the opportunity to demonstrate her acting prowess on TV again.”
Baker, who was appearing at the theatre in Cardiff near to the BBC1 set, added: “It looks like it will be a superb Christmas special.”
its mechanical armor. The first-ever glimpse of a Dalek mutant was a claw peeking out of the shell. The actual appearance of mutants has varied, but in most cases they are octopoid, multi-tentacled creatures, having one eye and an exposed brain.
unable to tackle stairts. The Doctor once escaped the Daleks by climbing up a tower and characters escaping up a flight of stairs in the episode 'Dalek' made this same joke. However, the Daleks showed a new ability of being able to hover up the stairs. The various appearances of the Daleks in the new series have featured Daleks hovering and flying using an energy thruster.
their DNA with humans. Dalek Sec volunteered and became the first human/dalek hybrid, however the three remaining Daleks rebelled and destroyed him. The Cult also attempted to create humans with Dalek personalities but this attempt failed after the Doctor interfered, Jast ahd Thay were destroyed and Caan escaped via another temporal shift. It is believe that Cann is the last remaining Dalek.
