A "Cleric" Christmas Carol!

[Aedh]

After many adventures, Peabody eventually returned to Earth, but not to the employment of Pricey, Watered-down, and Crappers. He accepted a job as a clerk in EGE PLC's Libria Downtown countinghouse, working on Mamba's accounts, under the supervision of EG Aedh, who had been hired back by his daughter as Chief Financial Officer. It entailed some late evenings, and this one was no exception, with the year-end audit looming. The rest of Libria's offices had long closed for the evening ... but in the office of EGE PLC, Peabody unbent himself from his spreadsheet, pushing his spectacles back up on his nose, and hit the "Save" button.

"Are you done already?" growled a voice over his shoulder, making him twitch. "You're going to print off the trial balance for me before we go any further."

"Yes, sir, Mr Aedh," he said with a small sigh. "It's not easy you know ... dealing with an account in the nine fantasticatillion, five multiplijillion, six incredibillion-dollar range."

"And sixteen cents," reminded the big man.

"And sixteen cents," echoed Peabody. "Some of the off-planet accounts in particular. I mean, the value of the Quornilan Pengo is hard to calculate. I know it's a unit of exchange, but they wiggle around so much. And if one of them gets fleas, or even just gets grumpy, the value of the whole lot can change overnight. But they're just so furry and cute!" He smiled.

Aedh leaned on the desk, and flicked a spot of dust off his worn jacket cuff. "We're not here to do furry and cute, Mr Peabody. We're businessmen."

"And it's Christmas Eve," said Peabody. "Even our competitors are enjoying a nice evening at home, or with friends or family."

"Christmas?" sneered the Evil Genius. "Bah! Humbug, is all it is. An excuse to fleece people for money and presents and entertainment. Crass commercialism. Not that there's anything wrong with crass commercialism, mind you, as long as you're on the selling end. How are sales of our 'Girls Aloud Holiday Bint-Tactular' discs doing?"

"Three billion, six hundred thousand, and ninety-four units shipped, sir," Peabody replied.

"You bought one for each member of your family, I trust?" said the big man.

"Yes, sir," said Peabody with another sigh. He didn't really like Girls Aloud, but the Evil Genius knew who all of his relatives were. And it would be just like him to make a bluff enquiry as to how they liked their present.

"Very well, then." The boss adjusted his scarf--the offices were kept at a healthful, bracing, and environmentally-responsible nine degrees--and threw another chair leg into the wood stove. Librians had for some time now been burning furniture to keep warm.

"Can I go home now, sir?" asked the clerk.

"Home? Now? It's only eight-thirty P.M.," rumbled Aedh. "We still have nine more reports to run."

"It's only once a year, sir," said Peabody.

"So is Income Tax Day. I don't see people going home early to celebrate that."

"There's Emily, and Prudence, and little Tim ... my wife has a goose in the oven--"

"Your family can afford a goose?" asked the boss casually. "Prices must be down, then, are they?"

"My wife saves up for it out of the money she gets scrubbing the sidewalk."

The Evil Genius looked thoughtful. "There's money to be made scrubbing sidewalks ?"

"Just a little, sir," said Peabody hurriedly, visions of being tasked to spend his lunch half-hour bringing in a few dollars with which to pay for his own office supplies dancing in his head. "Not much really."

"And I suppose you'll be wanting to-morrow off, too," muttered Aedh.

"It's only once a year, sir--and there are such things as labour laws," he added. "You--um, we, wouldn't want to get caught out."

"Humbuggery!" snorted the big man. "You'll notice money works that day. Interest doesn't stop accumulating just because it's Christmas Day. Every day that money works, so should a businessman. I wonder about you sometimes, Peabody."

The little man looked down.

"Bah! Now you're going to go all watery-eyed on me ... I can't stand it. Go, go on. You're no good to the Company if all you can do is sit here and moon about Christmas. Very well ... but I want you back here Friday morning at seven sharp. And be prepared for some serious week-end overtime, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," said Peabody, breaking into a smile, and scurrying for his overcoat before the boss changed his mind. Once the report had printed, he put it on Aedh's desk. "Bless you sir, and merry Christmas!"

"Merry humbug to you, too," said Aedh, sitting down, swishing his frock coat tails away. "Seven sharp on Friday, mind. I'll be here. And I'll be here to-morrow, too. And don't turn your mobile phone off--I pay for that."

"Yes, sir, thank you!" And off Peabody went into the street. Snow was falling .. and upper windows were lit, but all the lower ones were dark but for the countinghouse of Evil Genius Enterprises.

[Aedh]

The show of irritation over Peabody leaving a half-hour early had been just that. Aedh was relieved, actually--more time to himself, alone. And this Christmas Eve he needed to be alone.

Sir Scary Leaky, the chairman of TESCO, and Aedh, had a plan. Tesco was one of the two all-cheap, all-plastic, everything-all-the-time, two-million-square-foot stores which everyone had come to depend on. They were nice; they were good. They sold things at a price which even drones like Peabody could afford, thus providing a bulwark against whiny demands for salary rises. And they were all alike. Someone used to shopping in TESCO Libria could go to far-off New York or London, and find exactly the same things in exactly the same aisles, at exactly the same prices. It created a sense of comfort and security, which,after all, people wanted. The other store was ASDA-Walmart, or 'the Arkansas gang,' as Aedh and his associated liked to refer to them, in a spirit of friendly competition.

There was, however, an obstacle, and that was Waitrose stores. They insisted on doing business in a retrograde manner which helped no one. Fresh produce ... that only confused people, since you never knew what would be 'in season,' as the toffs like to say. Boutique brands, made by small, inefficient companies seeking to justify themselves on the grounds that they'd been in business for a hundred--or two hundred--years in the same small country towns. And the prices! And the hours! They had the nerve to actually shut the stores at night, and give staff holidays, which could only have an unfortunate effect on the attitude of the rest of the working classes; it had even infected Peabody, apparently. Aedh suspected that Peabody's wife had got the goose at a Waitrose. It was just the sort of thing those people would sell. 'Tradition' ... it was all tommyrot. 'Tradition' was simply another name for inefficiency.

But things were about to change. Father had acquired her Waitrose Megaplex in Libria, but in exchange, EGE and TESCO had, between them, acquired fifty-one percent of the voting stock in the company. Sir Scary had extended the offer to form a holding company to control the stock, and Aedh had decided to take him up on it. He needed to be alone to ink the deal; it had to be totally secret, lest Father whistle up Clerics and Sweepers to interfere ... and she had ways of finding things out. Father was a sensible woman on the whole, but she had an irrational streak when it came to shopping. Who else in this day and age would insist on fresh ground coffee, and haggis actually made in Scotland instead of Thailand, where it was done at pennies on the pound, and almost as good if you put the right gravy on it?

So to-day the deal had been struck, and to-morrow, Christmas Day, while all the slug-a-beds were opening gifts and singing, he, Aedh, and Sir Scary would give Libria the best present of all: ONE place to shop--cheaply and efficiently, instead of throwing money away to a lot of family-run suppliers who were only surviving on appeals to quality and tradition, instead of submitting to the iron logic of the markets. Friday morning, the Waitrose employees would return to find the building locked against them, and final cheques in their mailboxes--along, of course, with offers of employment at EGE-Tesco. At the usual wages, of course.

At last, close to eleven, he finished, saved and sent the documents, and shut down the office, locking it and heading out into the snowy night. The street was dark ... everyone asleep, awaiting Santa Claus. Aedh smiled a rare smile, settling his top hat down on his head against the chilly breeze. If only they knew ... he was their Santa Claus. But they soon would know.

He passed a figure, black on dark, bundled up, who extended a hand with a paper in it--a paper sold by, Aedh held, able-bodied wretches who didn't feel that a proper job suited them. "Merry Christmas, sir," it said. "Care for the Christmas edition of The Big Picture?"

Aedh stopped. "Oh! You're working late, my good man."

"Just need a few bob more, sir, to pay me rent. Used to work for EGE I did--twenty years, until I was sacked for asking for a morning off to attend me poor dead mum's funeral."

"Really? That Mamba's a cruel, heartless woman," said Aedh, barely managing to disguise a touch of pride in his voice.

"She's alright sir, really. She's young ... she'll settle down. It's that Aedh McScrooge who's a caution. I've heard it said he'd set Sweepers on a poor worker who complained about some sort of unjust treatment."

"Ya think?" replied the big man ominously. He took the proffered paper, and with his other hand produced his Portble Combustamatic Jet-Flame to it, and held the paper out as it burned. The dancing light showed his grim, scarred face, and the man flinched away.

"Now OFF with you, vagrant!" roared the big man, giving the vendor a whack with his cane, and a boot on the rear as he turned to flee, his footsteps crunching in the snow. "And good riddance!" he yelled after.

A few steps more put Aedh at the door of his building, and he mounted the steps with a feeling of irritation. The punter was an example of one of the many people who would resist his scheme if they could, out of pure bull-headedness. Why couldn't folks be reasonable? he thought. Sometimes it really was work, bringing an array of affordable necessities to the general public.

But once inside his large townhouse ... unlit and kept at ten degrees, as a measure for carbon conservation and economy, but well-appointed for all of that, he had an evening snifter and a few crackers, and then made ready for bed. To-morrow, the great deal would go through, and Libria would be all the better for it.

He tucked himself into bed and turned out his compact-fluorescent, nine-watt bedside light, prepared to sleep the sleep of the just.

[Aedh]

Aedh had expected to drop off to sleep readily, as usual, but he didn't. The usual sounds of New Libria drifting up from the street--drunken 'chavs' quarreling profanely, and Sweepers arriving to clear them off; the odd passing motorcar with the dodgy muffler; the boom ... boom ... boom of irritating rock music percolating over from another residence--it was all strangely quiet. He was used to being alone at night, but for some weird reason, everyone else had decided, in defiance of all that had made Libria great, that this night was to be special somehow.

He turned over ... a few minutes later, he turned over again. Something was bothering him, but he didn't know what.

And then ... a faint sound made itself heard. A clanking sound ... with a sort of metallic groan going along with it. Faintly at first .. then louder .. and louder .. and a weird blue glow coming from around the corner. He thought of ghosts .. but that was all humbug. Myths and legends designed to fleece gullible Sense-Offenders of their money and set their head a-spin. But there was something ... he sneaked his two Berettas out of the headboard holster.

The clanking came to a crescendo, and then died away ... and the blue glow flashed and also subsided.

There was a creak ... and a voice he knew said: "Drat! This can't be Gallifrey ... what do you think, K-9?"

A synthesized voice replied: "Negative, Doctor. Coordinates correspond with Sol 3 ... Earth."

Aedh turned on the light, and a tall man with touseled hair and a horrendously long scarf knitted in multi-colours strode in. "Oh .. my! EG Aedh?" he said, grinning and blinking with surprise, as the cyber-canine trundled in behind him.

"You!" exclaimed the big man. "Er, yes. I was just going to sleep," he added, not quite truthfully.

"But it's ... it's ... Earth date, K-9, please?"

"Twenty-four December .. soon to be twenty-five. Christmas, in Earth parlance."

"Christmas! I love Christmas!" exclaimed the Doctor, his grin widening. "The lights ... the gaiety ... the fellowship and good cheer ... I say, Aedh, what's the matter with you? Why aren't you celebrating?"

The big man got up, shaking out his long, greying hair--longer even than the Doctor's--and shrugged on his old black Cleric Coat, which he now mostly used for a dressing-gown. It was certainly very warm. "For your information, Doctor, I take a rather contrarian view. I don't see anything to celebrate. It's all a lot of humbuggery if you ask me. Though the fools all come out, and you know what they say about a fool and his money," he added, with a gleam appearing under a tangled eyebrow.

"Ah. And how is my friend Peabody doing?" asked the Doctor. "We had the devil of a time getting him un-shrunk and back from the planet of the Katzmin, you know. On the way back he was instrumental in helping save the planet Tharshin in the Regulan system from total destruction by a Dalek battle fleet."

"He's alright," said Aedh. "I let him off early this evening, and gave him the day off to-morrow, too ... something about his family."

"And what did you do, my friend?" asked the Doctor. "It's only once a year, you know."

"So is my annual dental examination. That doesn't make it fun, you know," replied the businessman irritably. "So, what can I do for you, Doctor?"

"Oh, my," replied the Doctor, with a frown. "Dear me, I suspect it's not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you."

"I, er, really don't need any help, thanks," said the big man, well-aware of what the Doctor's services could entail. "I'll just be getting back to sleep now, if you don't mind."

From just next to him, making him twitch, K-9's voice said: "Reading indicates nugatory sleep factors. Subject Aedh is wide awake."

"Excellent!" exclaimed the Doctor, putting an arm around Aedh's shoulders. "Well, then, how about a tour of Libria? I'll be glad to hop around a bit with you and check up on some friends. The TARDIS is pretty good for short hops these days. Besides ... you'd like to see if Sir Scary Leaky is really up to what he's telling you about on the phone, wouldn't you? Or would you not like to see how your erstwhile business partner is spending his time when he knows he's safe from a visit from you? And the lovely Mamba ... you'd like to at least look in on your Chairperson and daughter, would you not?"

Aedh thought. Mamba had in fact been on his mind. "Would they see us?"

"Not with the new aetherialiser belts," said the Doctor. "Just got them in trade from a salescreature on Trincana Four. Good as new, so it informed me, or double your Quornilan Pengoes back." The big man was inclined to say no, but the Doctor's eccentric charm was working on him. He found himself propelled irrisistibly inside the TARDIS, and the Doctor set the coordinates. "Let's see ... Sir Scary's place .. you'll want to put this on," he added, handing over a slim metal waist circlet to cinch around the Cleric coat. "I think you'll learn a thing or two this night," the Doctor finished with a wink, as the TARDIS dematerialised.

[Aedh]

"Is this blasted contrap--I mean, unique, collectable vehicle, really going to get us to Sir Scary's place reliably?" asked Aedh, fastening the circlet, made of two slim, curving, solid metal bars, connected by a pivot in the back and fastened by a dingus at the front. Despite that, it fit around his Cleric Coat perfectly. Unfortunately he didn't look quite the complete Cleric, with fuzzy sheepskin boots protruding below it, and without his gloves ... and without his Cleric Berettas, he realised with a start--though he did have his little personal Beretta Bobcat in its inside pocket ... and inside another pocket, he felt with surprise, his PIU. Now how had that got in there? he wondered.

As if reading his thoughts, the Doctor turned from the TARDIS' command console. "Oh, by the way--do they still do Prozium? If so, I do hope by some chance you forgot your dose. Dematerialisation and the Great Elixir of Whateverhood don't mix, I'm afraid."

"No," replied the big man. "I don't need it anyway. Any feelings I might have died long ago." He looked down, as if to check the fastening of his belt, and the Doctor turned away discreetly. "Its--it's all business now."

"And as for your question, yes. I recently overhauled the shortwave dimensional modulator, and I can assure you it's as safe as houses," said the Doctor. Just then, there was a zzzit! and a shower of sparks from a circuit panel.

Aedh looked at the Time Lord, whose eyes popped wide open as he gave himself a gentle smack on the side of the head. "Great Scott of the Antarctic! Of course ... the mu-zeta solenoid switch! I'd adapted it to cope with the lower voltage before the refit! Here--" he took Aedh's left arm and put his finger on a certain button. "Now, count six seconds, and push that slowly ... let me deal with this!" Producing a slim item which Aedh recognised as the sonic screwdriver, he dashed over to the panel and had it open in a trice.

The big man concentrated on his hastily-assigned task, and within moments the machine had settled. The Doctor turned to consult a panel. "Ah! We've arrived. Grid coordinates check out ... this should be the place. Sir Scary Leaky's townhouse ... Number Six, Tretorn Plaza, Libria, is it not?"

"It is," said Aedh. "You're sure this etherialiser will work ... better than the mu-zee-whatsit?"

"Let's see ... switch on." The Doctor closed the panel, and Aedh reached down to find a little button on the belt's fastener. At a nod, he pushed it--and even his quick reflexes didn't save him when the Time Lord winged a metal pen at him ... and it went right through his arm and clattered against a locker on the far wall. "Yep!" concluded the Doctor. "It works," he grinned. "For a space of about two hours you should be able to walk through anything and see and hear most everything. And here's your guide." Out of a door walked a middle-aged, neatly-mustachioed man in an military officer's uniform, with the addition of a belt like Aedh's own. "May I introduce, Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart of UNIT, the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce?"

"But I thought you'd--"

"Oh, no," said the officer crisply. "You see, the etherialisers don't work on Time Lords I'm afraid. Nonetheless, I can assure you I've been fully briefed. The mission will go off as planned." He put out his hand to shake Aedh's, and their hands passed through each other. "Jolly good--switched on already, I see. Capital. We'll be off then, for a bit of reccy, then. Let's see what Sir Scary is up to."

"I'll just be finishing this," said the Doctor, refocusing his attention on what now looked like a rats'-nest of wires. "Deuce of thing, these time solenoids. Ta-ta, then." The doors opened, and the Evil Genius and the Brigadier ventured out into the night.

The looming building looked familiar, but not quite familiar ... or rather, familiar in the wrong sort of way. The big man frowned. And where had the snow gone? As they walked, he noticed guards posted--guards in the old Sweepers' uniforms of a Libria gone by. They were unchallenged ... they walked through an eerily familar gate ... through a courtyard, and through a closed doorway ...

... and inside, Aedh noticed something definitely wrong. They had the right place, but the wrong time. What was now Sir Scary's townhouse had once been the offices of the Hall of Destruction. He was startled to see on the desk calendar of the drably-attired administrative clerk that the date was 24-04, corresponding to Christmas Eve--though of course here, at this time--whatever this time was, 'Christmas' was a word used only by Sense-Offenders.

"Something's wrong," whispered Aedh to the officer. "Right place ... wrong time."

"No need to whisper, old boy," said Lethbridge-Stewart. "They can't hear us any more than they can see us." He touched his belt. "I'll have to see about getting some of these for UNIT. On the q.t., of course."

"I said, wrong time! This isn't Sir Scary's place ... well, it is, but not yet. We're in the past somewhere. Before the Revolution--donkey's years ago."

"H'mm ... just when, do you think?"

"I don't ..." began Aedh, and then trailed off. The main door behind them had opened to reveal a marching squad of Sweepers, hustling several manacled Sense-Offenders with them. They quickly proceeded to the desk at which he and the Brigadier were standing, unknown to everyone else, and the Sweeper Captain said, "Lot 6804249, remanded for processing by order of the Vice-Council." The clerk said, "Names?"

The prisoners were sullenly quiet.

"Names?" repeated the clerk. "You." He pointed at a man, whom a Sweeper struck across the face with a pistol barrel.

"Worker Jones, George," said the man dully.

"Number ... number?" The man said a number which Aedh recognised as a prisoner's registration number--and with a shiver, he remembered the man, too. Could it be ...?

The humiliating ritual proceeded through four more prisoners--all of whom came back to him in a rush, and the rather brutal operation in which they had been taken--until it came to the last one, a woman--a woman who had been rather pretty once, her features now ravaged with ill-treatment. She remained obdurate, even when struck and struck again. Finally, with a trickle of blood oozing from the corner of her mouth, she muttered, "You know who we all are. Why go through thith humiliation? You're jutht going to burn uth."

"Name and number!" demanded the clerk like an automaton.

At that moment, the doors opened again, and three figures entered, stepping swiftly and efficiently: Grammaton Clerics--one in the black coat of the Cleric First Class, and two in the junior-grade Clerics' field-grey, walking behind. The black-clad one was tall, but one of the grey ones was a little taller still, and bigger, and the one next to him was smaller, a female. Aedh recognised Cleric John Preston in the lead, and behind him--himself--young Clerics Aedh and Mira, the same Mira now known as 'Father,' though a rather different one than the taciturn Father of old.

The Clerics proceeded to the desk. "Why this inefficiency?" Preston asked the Sweeper Captain. "You should have been through check-in by now and on your way to pre-processing. More arrivals are expected. It's been a busy day."

"Sir, she won't give her name and number--"

"It's Chrithtmath!" exclaimed the female captive to the Clerics, spraying a few blood droplets on the immaculate woolen coats. "For God'th THAKE! If you ekthpect cooperation--!!"





Preston glanced at the young Aedh, as if to say, Deal with this, Cleric. And he understood. He stepped up to the woman, looking down at her, menace flowing from him like rainfall on still water ... quietly but steadily. He took her neck in a gloved hand. "You can cooperate, and be processed quickly and efficiently. Or you can continue this--charade--and ..." He bent down to whisper something ... no one overheard, but he knew what he had said. It was information to the effect that the Tetragrammaton had been asked to provide living subjects for certain experimental medical procedures.

The woman turned white, her eyes saucer-like, staring up at him ... She turned trembling. "Teacher--Teacher Hemple, Robin ... " she said. "Thix-four-oh-theven-nine-eight alpha."

"A teacher?" said the Sweeper Captain. "Bah!--who knows how many young citizens she corrupted? Off with her! And good riddance."

"Thank you, Cleric," said the clerk. "When you want something done, there's no one like a Cleric," he added, with a look at the Sweepers.

The group moved off, and the Brigadier said to the big man, "Interesting. Just what did you say to her?"

"I ... I don't remember," the big man lied, his stomach knotting up. Sense Offence was Sense Offence, and illegal. It was wrong ... it was against the law. He'd had no sympathy for it, and even now, he still didn't. But what was a junior Cleric to do in the spot he'd been in? He had broken her, cruelly--true--but quickly. And that was the thing, wasn't it? No matter what day it was ... he remembered that there had been many processings that day, and for a few days after. Even in danger of almost certain apprehension, SO's had gathered ... it made no sense. What could have prompted them to do such a thing in the face of death? He had once thought about it, and couldn't understand. And he had dismissed it--at the time.

His mind went back to the newspaper seller whom he'd driven off, and the captain's words echoed ... he hadn't had to be quite so hard with the wretch, who was already cold and hungry. Life itself, and hard economic times were punishing him quite enough. There had been no Preston at Aedh's shoulder then, standing ready to add him to the victims should he fail in his mission. And he looked again, at young Cleric Mira, whose face was set rock-hard ... a look he had since learnt to recognise as a mask; armour, protecting the feelings within from detection. She had surely felt then what he was feeling only now--though they weren't supposed to feel anything.

"Let's go," he said to the Brigadier. "We shouldn't have been here to begin with ... it was wrong."

Lethbridge-Stewart replied thoughtfully: "A hard turn that was. Still ... a soldier serves, doesn't he? Not for him to question why and all that, eh? Still, it's over now. It's past."

"I meant ... never mind." The big man started walking, and the officer fell in beside him. And Aedh wondered about his comment. 'It's over now. It's past.'

If only that were so ...

[Aedh]

Back in the TARDIS, Aedh informed the Doctor: "Right place ... wrong time."

The Doctor ran a set of fingers through his mop of hair. "Oh, dear! How wrong?"

"Very wrong," said the big man grimly. With their belts off to conserve energy, he shook the Brigadier's hand, and the military man went out through an inner door..

"How wrong is very wrong, would you say?" asked the Doctor, looking at a bundle of coloured wires. "Did you see dinosaurs?"

"Not in the literal sense. Let's just say it was within my lifetime."

"Ah .. alright then ... back off correction level one notch ... and back a hair ... negative rating ... good!" said the Doctor.

"Can we just go back to where we started?" asked the Evil Genius.

"Back to your own time? Of course," said the Doctor. "Let me finish this, then ... it'll take a little--er, time." He went back to work with the screwdriver, humming 'Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.'

Aedh felt irritated. "Could you not do that?"

"What? Oh! Sorry ... Santa Claus and all that? Fascinating chap, actually ... we met him, didn't we, Rose?"

The Evil Genius turned to see a petite blonde woman standing by. "Yes," she said. To Aedh, she added: "He was real you know ... Nicholas of Myra. The Emperor Constantine wasn't that fond of him. Called him an old cabbage-head. But he was a sweet man, Nicholas was."

"Really?" asked Aedh, interested despite himself.

"Yes. He was famous for giving anonymous gifts."

"Isn't that rather a contradiction in terms?"

"He was found out. Are you worried about being found out?" she asked, looking at him frankly.

"Found out? How do you mean?" he asked, recalling his pending business plan.

"Anonymous gifts. You're rich. You've never been known to give away anything ... but no one can live a proper life without giving something away," she said with a tender glance at the Doctor, who was working with his back to them. "So you must be very anonymous."

"Well .. um ... I did let Peabody off early this evening," he said. "And I could give you, if you liked ... " he said, scraping his hand around in his pocket, and producing a scrap of paper, "a ... a 'Girls Aloud Holiday Bint-Tacular' DVD instant savings coupon."

Rose broke into a laugh. "Silly man!" she smiled, and slapped his arm. Just then, the Doctor straightened up. "I do believe we're ready now," he announced, rubbing his hands together. "Right ... return coordinates ..." He turned to the command console, punched some buttons, and pulled a lever.

"I do hope this works," said the Evil Genius under his breath as a sort of peculiar light was turned on over them. "Here--it's been a while since a young lady paid such attention to my backside," he said aloud, feeling Rose's hand move along the back of the Cleric coat.

"Just making sure," she replied. "One Time Beetle encounter was quite enough."

"Nasty thing," said the Doctor, at the controls. "I hope none of me ever has to deal with that again--ah! So!" The flashing lights died down. "Here we are."

"Where's here?" enquired Aedh suspiciously.

"It's where we are," said Rose simply, as the Doctor disengaged the outer door, which opened to reveal darkness ... and a vague light. The Time Lord peered out first, then beckoned Rose and Aedh. "You'd better put these on," he said sotto voce, handing them the etherialiser belts. "Just in case. Let me make one more adjustment." He slipped back in, but after they donned the things, the Evil Genius couldn't resist having a peek through the nearby hallway door.

Through the other side, he saw a bedroom, but not his. His didn't have lights like that, it didn't have concrete flooring like that, and it certainly didn't have spiked accessories like that. A burst of unnervingly familiar alto laughter came from the other side ... "Ja, little reindeer ... you see? I haf mein Holiday Robe on for you! Now for ein Christmas carol! A special mix!" Hidden speakers burst into the chundery beat of "Happy Christmas Mein Kommandant."

What in the name of Father's knickers is she up to? wondered Aedh, and walked through the closed chamber of horrors ... and on the other side, walked through a door, with Rose just behind him, her nose wrinkling at the smell--not dried blood--but ... but baked ginger?

Qveenmuzzer faced them, with a severe look, bending a slim crop in her hands. "Now," she said. "I vant you to open all zer presents ... or else ..."





" ... or else NO cookies for you!" To one side and then the other, he looked, to see a group of street people ... young, in their teens mostly--homeless youths, already hardened to the gutters and backlots. They looked ...odd. Sort of--well--happy.

"Isn't Queeny the greatest?" asked a boy whose ragged features showed a young smack-head in the making, of a girl with green hair and an assortment of face piercings.

"Yeah!" She nudged a companion, who was tearing into a sandwich, having emptied a bowl of soup. Another called out: "You ROCK for an old--I mean, um, like-my-mum's age lady!"

The Domina took a few steps over, smiling, and touched him with her crop. "You heffen't any family--none of you. Nobody vants you, but it's Christmas. No vun shouldt be all alone on Christmas. Zo vot ze hell--ve can party vunce a year, hein?"

"I think Danny over there wouldn't have lasted another week," said a girl, dressed far older than her age, her strappy sandals and ragged faux-fur coat look like a mere child playing dress-up.

"So, like, what do you do outside of your Christmas parties for us punks?" asked a young man with a Mohawk.

"Ey'm in, ah, entertainment," said the woman. "But zet's no matter to you. Tonight you'll get varm for vunce, und heff some Strudel mit Kartoffeln. Ey keep tabs on people--chust don't let me catch you vinding up like zet Evil Chenius Aedh."

A chorus of derision went up, and the big man flinched. "Gawd, no!" "What an old tosser!" But Green-hair spoke out. "He's not so bad as all that really, I think."

"Wot?" "What's he done for you then?" asked a boy in a dark 'hoody.'

"Nothing," said Green Hair. "He's the boss of a friend of mine's dad ... she thinks he's alright. He is fair ... in his own way, sort of."

"Gerroff! He makes millions, while we starve," said another. "How's he treat your mate's dad then?"

"I dunno," said Green-hair. "I just have a feeling, that's all. Katie wouldn't believe in him if he were all bad."

"He's all bad, arright. Your friend's a nit, I say," said Mohawk.

"Yeah, maybe," said Green-hair, and, having finshed eating, picked up a box and tore into it. She held up her prize. "Ace! Thanks, Queeny! A lovely scarf!" And out of it fell a card. The girl picked it up, and stared.

"What is it?" asked Smack-head.

"It's .. it's ...a phone number??" asked the girl, puzzled. She looked at the Domina.

"You call zet, day efter to-morrow," admonished the woman. "Zey vant a hair-dresser in zet shop, to start immediately. Ey know you hef your training, young lady--no, don't ask how I know ... your old Auntie Qveeny knows zings. You tell zem ey sent you."

Others were opening boxes ... all contained a useful item--and a useful phone number. Aedh turned, but not before the Domina looked at him--at where he was. Of course, she couldn't see him. She was just looking at the wall for all he knew. But there was something knowing in her look, as if she felt a stirring deep in the black well of her heart. As if she somehow knew he was there despite the etherialiser.

He had to look down ... and then Green-hair got up. "Sorry to leave so soon," she said. "Thanks again ... I have to go see Katie. I promised."

"Go, zen. Keep your promise," came the reply. "Und goodt luck oudt zere, girl. Und ... merry Christmas."

"Oh, yes, thanks!" Green-hair got her coat, and Aedh felt a stab of desire to follow her. He motioned to Rose.

"Alright, I guess. Why?" Rose asked him.

The Evil Genius didn't feel like confessing that he had a desire to meet this unusual person who felt goodwill toward him. "I don't know," he replied. "I just want to."

"Fine, then," she said, falling into step beside him. "One of the stranger Christmas parties I've seen in my time. Who is this Aedh person they were talking about anyway? Sounds like a proper old prat to me. You know him?"

The big man realised with a start that Rose hadn't learnt his name. "No," he said thoughtfully. "I thought I did for awhile. But really, I don't think I do."

[Mirabilis]

[Good lord....where DO you find these pictures? No...actually, don't answer that! ;D]

[Aedh]

Dec 24, 2008 5:49:17 GMT -5 Mirabilis said:

[Good lord....where DO you find these pictures? No...actually, don't answer that! ;D]

I didn't get the title "Evil Genius" just for the asking, you know!

(Well I did, actually ... but whatever.)

;D

[Mirabilis]

Dec 24, 2008 9:31:14 GMT -5 Aedh said:

Dec 24, 2008 5:49:17 GMT -5 Mirabilis said:

[Good lord....where DO you find these pictures? No...actually, don't answer that! ;D]

I didn't get the title "Evil Genius" just for the asking, you know!

(Well I did, actually ... but whatever.)

;D

Bah! Humbug! I know a different side to EG!!!

[Aedh]

They followed Green-hair out through a corridor, shared a lift with her, and on the way out through a desolate lobby, Aedh asked Rose: "Why are you still with me?"

"The Doctor told me to stay with you," she said. "It's not as if I'm going to be in your way." To illustrate her point, she passed a hand through his body from front to back and back again.

"Well, I'm back again ... obviously in my own time, or near enough. I could just walk off. I might never get any closer than this to whence we left if I step back in that thing. The Doctor's potty, you know."

"Life itself is potty," returned Rose. "If you're going to be strictly logical, why is there anything at all, rather than nothing?"

"I'm not in the mood for word games just now," said the Evil Genius, as they came to a halt, with their quarry, at a bus stop.

"Then why are we following this girl? Why not just go home?"

"It so happens," said Aedh, not quite truthfully, "that her route lies on my route home."

Rose said nothing to that, and a few minutes passed. It was a cold night, with freezing mist hanging in the air, but he felt no chill; the dematerialisation, most likely. Like the Brigadier, Aedh himself was developing an interest in these belts.

The bus arrived, and they climbed on. The driver saw only one passenger, and shut the doors behind Green-hair, but the edge passed through Rose's leg with no effect, and the big man himself simply stepped up through them and pulled himself up as the bus began to move. They sat across from Green-hair. The ride was uneventful, except at one point when he noticed Rose staring at a pub as they passed.

"What's that?" she asked him pointing.

"It's a tavern--a pub. They're open on Christmas here," he said.

"That--that sign." She pointed to its window, where there were several neon signs advertising beers ... Boors, Crudweiser, Coronet, PA Ales, and Bad Wolf, the last picked out in orange letters, with a stylised lupine head.

"They're beers," he said. "Every pub has them." The bus took a corner, and the place vanished from sight.

"Oh." She looked as if she were going to say something else, but she didn't.

After a few more minutes, during which Rose looked thoughtful, came Green-hair's stop, and theirs. They followed her down a side street to a nondescript three-decker house with coloured lights in the windows. She went up the steps and knocked at the first floor door, and was admitted with an exclamation "Pris! Merry Christmas--come on in!" The door closed, and Aedh and Rose went to the window. Through the bleared pane--rubbing it did no good--the big man could see several people, a family. There were two daughters, one older and one younger, and a boy, and a woman, obviously the mother of the place. He decided to fade inside, and Rose followed.




"Good to see you, Pris," the older daughter was saying. "We were expecting Dad, though ... he's due home anytime now. It's almost nine. We were a little worried. Even Aedh would have let him go at least a little early on Christmas Eve."

"Don't count on it," said the boy, a tow-headed, pimply fellow of about thirteen. "He's always got some excuse for keeping Dad."

The younger girl reached down and put something to her face, taking a breath ... it was all tubes. She was on oxygen, obviously, and looked--now that he noticed it--quite frail. Then she said, "He's not so bad. He wouldn't keep Dad if he didn't need him. And if he needs him--well, I think that's--not so bad."

"Needs him to keep the money mill grinding," said the older daughter. "Never you mind Katie ... she lives in a world of her own. Now come on, Pris, and tell us what you've been doing with yourself."

"But Kayla," said Pris. "Your dad would have called by now, surely. I mean ... you know."

"He has a mobile phone, but Mr Aedh is quite strict as to how it's for business only," said the mom. "I'm sure he'll be back soon, but end-of-the-year accounts are coming up." She handed around a tray of cookies ... cheap cookies from a Tesco tin, but laid out on a plate with a paper doily. "Have one," she invited.

"Ah, no, thanks," said Pris, looking at the sparse arrangement. "I'm full, thanks ... just come from--from a friend's."

Just then there was a knock--apparently the ringer was out of order--and the mom admitted Peabody, carrying a large plastic shopping bag which had been fixed at the corners with duct tape, with a hug and kiss. "Merry Christmas, love," she said to him with a smile. "And here's Pris, our old upstairs neighbour made good."

"Well, trying to," said Pris. "Hello, Mister P--how's everything this Christmas eve?"

"I'll get dinner on ... the goose is starting to dry out in the warmer," said mum, and hurried off. Kayla took the man's hat and coat, and Peabody said, "Well, then, I suppose Father Christmas can wait until after dinner then, eh?"

[Aedh]

Pris made her excuses and left, and Rose and Aedh watched as the family table was set for Christmas Even dinner. There were a lot of dishes, sweet potatoes, pickles, some fruit preserves, and breads, but really not that much food; other things had obviously been foregone for the sake of the goose and its stuffing. Little Katie, who looked to be about eight years old, had had to have her oxygen supply changed, and Aedh overheard the parents anxiously discussing the fact that this canister was the last until Peabody got another pay-cheque.

"He could have given you a little bonus to-night," whispered Mrs P irritably. "Then we would be set 'til the end of the month. I was rather hoping for that."

"No matter, my love," said Peabody. "This canister should last ... I think Katie's been a little better lately, don't you?"

"Yes," said his wife, but her eyes turned away as she said it.

Finally, everything was ready, and it remained only for the speech. "Well, I'm glad we can be together," Peabody said to his family. "Not all families can be tonight. And I want to thank your mom, kids, for all the work she's done ... and we should all take a moment to remember Mr Aedh, our benefactor."

There was an audible snort from the boy.

"You, ah, Will--you have something on your mind?" asked Peabody.

"I'm sorry, but he's an old prat," said Will firmly. "You did better with your old job. You work longer hours for less. And I know Mom doesn't talk about it, but we're on and off food coupons. 'New clothes' means new from the charity shop. He's our benefactor only if you count being allowed to live as a benefit."

"Will!" exclaimed the mum.

"You know how it was ... I was off-planet. Things happen to you. I couldn't go back to PWC. My benefits would have been voided if anyone had found out."

"Like you get benefits now?" asked Kayla. "Sorry ... Will's right, you know."

"It's Christmas," said Peabody, rallying. "We--shouldn't talk like this about Mr Aedh."

"I'd prefer we talked about something else," muttered Mrs Peabody.

Little Katie stood up. "It is Christmas," she said. "Daddy's right. Peace on earth, goodwill to everyone. If we cut out Mr Aedh, then where do we stop cutting out? If it weren't for him, Daddy'd have no job at all. He might not even be back from wherever he was." She stopped and held up her mask, taking a breath. "I say, bless Mr Aedh. Who knows what he does when no one sees him? We don't know. If he's a good man, he deserves it, and if he's a bad man, then it's a gift to him that he needs badly. I know people call him an evil genius, but those are people who don't believe in him."

"That would be everyone," said Will.

"He's human. People forget that--they think of him and all they think of is money. But some things can't be bought for money. I believe in him. And if no one else does, then it's all the more important that I do." She stopped, and took another breath, and the bowed her head, done.

"Well said," observed Peabody, as the other three traded looks. and he began, carefully, to carve the goose. The big man instinctively touched Rose's shoulder ... and his fingers went through. He leaned over. "Let's go," he said.

As they left, Rose asked: "Who is this Aedh anyway? Everyone seems interested in him."

The Evil Genius looked down, at the peeling paint on the scraped wooden steps.

"You're Aedh, aren't you?" she said.

He took a breath almost as deep as one of Katie's. "Yeah."

"Is it true, what they've been saying about you?"

"Everyone's entitled to their own opinion," he returned. "And no one's entitled to be right."

Rose turned up her coat collar. "You don't need to be defensive with me. I'm from another world. I've never seen you before and I'll never see you again. Your life is entirely up to you."

"No, it isn't. I'm a billionaire. I'm one of the hundred richest men in the world, in fact. My life is anything but up to me. People say I'm all about money."

"Are you?"

"Someone's got to be," he said. "Look--you obviously don't understand. How could you? When you have a lot of money--I mean real wealth--it's like ... like the money's not yours any more."

"Then take your life back," she urged. "Give it away."





He stopped and looked at her deeply. "You don't get it. You can only give away what belongs to you. It's mine on paper, but it really belongs to a lot of people. Bankers, Boards, investors, stockholders, financial advisors, oh, and the bloody government. And my ex and kids. If I liquidated everything, do you have any idea how many people would be out of work? As it is, Peabody has a living. If I did what you suggest, his family would be out on the street in a month. His and thousands of others."

"Well, it seems to me you could improve their lot a little," she said. "Raise their wages or something."

"I could. Then all our competitors would have to raise theirs to keep their best people. Overhead would go up, prices would rise, and it would have a killing effect on business. Several companies this year have already gone bust, and more would follow. Others would move to Xylyx or somewhere else offshore. The fact is, people work best when they're a little hungry. It keeps them focused--and I didn't make that up. That's just how it is."

"You have an excuse for everything, don't you?" asked Rose harshly. "I'm beginning to think you deserve all the comments about you we've heard."

"I do. But only insofar as to those people, I'm the face of the system that's what they really dislike. Once it kept me up at night. Not any more." Then he made a plucking motion at her immaterial sleeve. "Look--isn't that the TARDIS? What's it doing here on the street?"

"Let's see, shall we?" Rose went up to the call box and opened the door.

Inside the familiar control room, the Doctor greeted them. "Ah, good. Excellent. Got the old girl right again so I thought I'd hop over to collect you."

[Aedh]

"And I came along as well," said a red-headed woman in a black Cleric coat, finished with gloves and Spanish boots. Rose looked at her, and Aedh said: "Excuse me--Rose Tyler, Father, Libria's ceremonial Head of State. Father--Rose Tyler." Father produced a hip flask, unscrewed the top, and had a go at it, and proffered it to the big man. "Warmup?"

"Thanks," he said, and took a little pull. "Ahh ... that's good. You always did keep the good stuff around." He went to hand it to Rose, but she was looking around--suspiciously. Then she went for the doors, but the Doctor threw a switch and machinery started humming. Aedh looked, and the Doctor's features were changing ... sharpening ... a dark, neat beard sprouting.

"You!" gasped the Evil Genius as Rose's shoulder thudded uselessly against the door.

"I am the Master," said the Time Lord. "You will obey me."

Aedh laughed scornfully. "I suppose you're glad we could make it to your little party, and that resistance is futile."

"I am, and it is," said the dark man. At a signal, the room filled with Sweepers, weapons levelled.

"But I thought you were the Doctor!" gasped Father. Her features instantly hardened. "What is the meaning of this outrage?"





"I watched the demise of Libria with some--disappointment," said the Master. "You had an orderly society here, until Cleric Preston turned traitor. And I made a tidy profit supplying Prozium to your predecessor, Father, and yours, Vice-Council. The experiment was going well, until it was spoilt. Well, I have too much invested to see it go west. So I intend to rectify matters."

Aedh relaxed; he was with an equal now. "Rectify what? Take your revenge on Preston? It's too late for that. Re-install Dupont? It's way too late for that. I suppose you're set on something cheesy like going back to the point at which Preston turned, and creating an alternate world in which he didn't. That never works, you know."

"What my plans are you don't need to know," returned the Master, throwing switches quickly. "Except for the parts you are to play. Sergeant, seize them. Take them to separate holding cells."

Aedh's fingers turned over the one other item he'd found in his pocket ... a small packet left over from a forgotten takeout lunch. He had had an eye on Father's breathing, and as she exhaled, he quickly tore the top off and threw it in her face; she inhaled ... a small but potent dose of pepper.

"Aaaah ... AAAH--TSHOOOO!" Instantly the Master and all but two of the Sweepers were covered in a tough, black, sticky coating. The big man lunged, cracking the last two Sweepers' heads together, and grabbed a carbine from one, cold-cocking the other with the buttplate and then doing the same to his fellow. Rose had already gone for the control console.

"Can you divert thish thing?" shouted Father through her pocket-handkerchief. "You've flown with the Doctor enough times--you ought to know something about working it!"

"It's hard through this fabric," said Rose, concentrating. "The console's covered in it ... I'm not sure," she said, pushing a button winking with a purple light. "I don't know if he had a preset or not."

"Good old Spandexitis ... We're definitely going somewhere," observed Aedh, as the machine's lights dimmed momentarily, and there was a slight tremor ... then another.

"Might as leif see where," said Father, opening the door.

The outside revealed night, and cold, though not Libria's biting freeze. They were in a town, a small town, built of mud-brick houses, dark. The clear sky above revealed a million stars, and the Evil Genius armed himself with a pencil torch from a wall locker. "Better take these, too," he muttered, helping himself to an earpiece mounted on a circlet that went around the head like a sort of diadem.

"What's that?" asked Father.

"It's a universal translator. Kalandrian make," said Rose. "Perfect for those who find themselves in another place and time without a Time Lord's presence to make alien languages understandable."

"What would he want with these?" wondered Aedh. "You'd think he'd find it easier to control people if he didn't have these around ... unless he meant to split up his forces."

"Who knows?" said Father brusquely. "And who cares?? All I know is, this isn't Libria, and I don't think we can find out how to get back if we don't know where we're going from. So we'd better find out."

"Shouldn't someone stay back to guard these soldiers?" asked Rose.

"The covered ones, and the Master, won't be going anywhere for a good couple of hours," said Father. "Trust me ... that stuff is tough. Right, big man?" she asked Aedh with a wink, who grunted simply: "Let's get those two into holding cells." It was done, and then they ventured out, being careful to note the location of the Master's TARDIS, which had disguised itself as an adobe-plastered outhouse.

"Appropriate," huffed Father, and, guided by the big man's pencil torch, the three of them set off down the village street, into the midnight.

[Aedh]

The place, it seemed, had been busy yesterday, and would be busy to-morrow; donkeys and camels lay down together in dark groups against the darkness, drowsing, and tents were pitched in places out of traffic lanes. There was a low, flickering light in a large--well, large for this place--building nearby. Aedh, Father, and Rose entered through the main door. Inside was a great room, with people and packs laying everywhere; the smell of body-odour and stale food and smoke was overpowering. A bearded man in a robe and headscarf, carrying a chamber pot, looked over at them, and shook his head.

"Where are--?" Aedh began.

"Not here, friend," said the man in a low voice, shaking his head again. "You will have to find somewhere else. Full. Full like this pot," he said, setting it down, its noisome contents slopping perilously near the brim.

"We just want to know where we are!" said Rose.

"Nowhere you can sleep to-night, fine folk though you must be with your strange clothes. You have surely journeyed very far, but it must continue a little more. We were full before sunset. As it is, we have people sleeping in the stable. Off--off with you. I'm busy," he said. "And tired. Whatever it is, I can't help you. Go, friends. I cannot help you."

"Can you at least tell us what place this is?" asked Father. "The name of this town?"

"You are indeed from far away, then, if you don't know this place, good nobles," said the host. "From the East, I'd wager. A very distant land at any rate, no?"

"Too right," sighed Father. "And all we want to do is get back there as soon as we can."

"Like everyone else here in--" Just then a muffled yell sounded--someone had rolled over on someone else, apparently, who had taken offence--and the host was off to make peace before the whole place woke up.

"Let's go," said the big man. "There's got to be a tavern or something."

They went out, and off from in back of the place, shining out of a doorway, they saw another light. This was brighter--steadier. "Someone else is up. Shall we check it out?" asked Rose.

In the doorway, inside a stone enclosure where straw was spread everywhere under donkeys and sheep, the light looked inviting, so they went. The door was opened by a dirty, ragged, but somehow profoundly happy-looking man. "Ah! Ahhh!" he said. "Be welcome. Be careful, though, good people. You are no shepherds. You are from a strange place, to look at you. Gentlefolk--nobles, come here this night?"

"We're, um ... " began Aedh, searching for a term this man would understand, "We're from the East," he ventured.

Rose began: "We're looking for someone who--"

The ragged man swiftly put a finger to his lips, and led them inside, where there were some other equally ragged and quietly, curiously, joyful men. And their animals--an ox, a donkey, and some fat-tailed sheep. "Don't wake the baby," the man murmured.

All these were surrounding a wooden feed-trough, next to which a young woman--very young, still a girl really, dozed, her head in the lap of her husband, an older man. The animal reek was worse even than in the other place, but no one seemed to notice. They were gazing into the trough, where a tiny baby lay, wrapped in more rags, though clean, mended ones. "Just born, my lords," whispered one of the men.

"We heard the message of the angel while we were tending our flocks," said another. "But you--you must be wise indeed, for you have to have set out from your land long before the angel appeared to us. Yet you, too, have surely come to pay tribute to our new King."

"Where?" asked Aedh, wondering about this king of shepherds. A man pointed. "There," he said. "Our newborn king. The angel told us how to find him, and here he is, just as the angel said. Imagine--a king in a manger! But so it is."

Father looked down at the infant, her face softening as the little one yawned in its sleep and worked a tiny fist. "Awwww ... cute!" Then she wrinkled her nose. "Feh! What a stink! Smells worse then the neighbours' fried fish ... at least let me light a joss stick!" She pulled out a packet of incense, and a flat-style stick holder, setting it on the edge of the trough and kindling it with her Bic lighter. Rose was affected, too, and produced from her bag what was seemingly the only good-smelling thing she had--a stick of aromatic deodorant, holding it under her nose.

"'Secret' deodorant?" asked the Evil Genius, looking at the floral label with a lifted eyebrow.

"Hey--when you travel the stars, there are one or two things you do not want to get caught without," said Rose practically.

"Ah!" said another man, taking up the word. "Stars? You have seen the star?"

"Yes," said Aedh quickly, trying to move things along. One of the shepherds had gently awoken the sitting man, and the young woman also stirred. They looked at the strange visitors, and their eyes widened.

"Visitors--from the far East," said the shepherd. "They have come to pay tribute to the newborn King ... they must be wise, as they set out long ago. They saw his star, and must have followed it here."

"I'm sorry," apologised the husband. "Good nobles, I cannot welcome you properly ... we have no food to offer. Nothing at all I'm afraid ... perhaps a drink of water."

"Um, thank you, no, we're alright," said Father firmly, who knew all about drinking the water in such places.





"We came here to Bethlehem to be registered at the command of the Roman emperor Augustus ... it is the home of my clan," said the husband. "The Emperor has never done this before. It was a difficult journey, with my wife pregnant ... she gave birth only to-night."

"The expenses were higher than we thought," explained the young mother. "Merchants raised prices, with so many people in town--the inn was full, and it took the last penny we had, plus sympathy for my contractions, just to get the stall. I don't even know how we're going to manage on the way home ..." A tear began to well out of one of her eyes.

"Don't worry, Miriam. We'll manage somehow," said the husband, stroking her gently. "Leave that to me. You just rest now."

The big man looked at the poor couple ... then down at the baby, sleeping so peacefully in this nasty place. It knew nothing of taxes ... of misery ... of crowding ... of politics or Emperors. Yet into this world it had come anyway. Born to-night ... so innocent ... He was moved. He wanted to help--their needs were so modest. It wouldn't be spent on booze or video games or cigarettes or a drug fix. For once, he felt in his heart that someone really deserved his help. But no one took Libria credit cards here, or Librian money, and he didn't have his wallet anyway. Finally--knowing that none of his business associates would hear of it--he removed a thick gold ring and handed it to the man. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

"Take this," he said. "Sell it. Pay for what you need with it--just don't tell anyone, alright?" he added gruffly.

"Thank you," said the young wife. "Thank you, kind sir. A kingly gift, indeed." The big man looked around, and saw the translator circlets on Father's and Rose's heads, and remembered his own. "We're no kings," he told her.

"Well, whoever you are, strangers, we thank you," returned the husband, his face beaming. Father, not to be caught being made to look stingy by Aedh--of all people--slowly laid her packet of joss sticks down. "That should sell for--not as much as the ring, but a penny or two," she said. "Pay for the stall, anyway." And Rose had nothing that could be replaced on Earth except for her deodorant ... and she placed that beside the joss sticks. "You may want to use it," she advised the mother. "Secret Stick, for women." Miriam took it up and smelt it, looking delighted. "Thank you, so much," she said simply.

"Well, we'll be off, I think," said Aedh. "No need to disturb you further." "We have found what we came for," put in Father, satisfied that they now knew where they were. "Let's get going, shall we?"

They were escorted out by two smiling shepherds, and on the street again, Rose observed, "We know where we are ... but when are we?"

The Evil Genius thought ... a memory came back to him from his classical education, from the Res Gestae of Augustus. "Augustus' first registration as Emperor was ordered during the consulships of Gaius Censorinus and Gaius Asinius ... I always remembered that," he said wryly. "The censor and the ass."

"You got that right," muttered Father. "Damn politicians."

"That was 8 BC, and it would have been taken about three years to do. The star they spoke of ... in the spring of 5 BC, all the known planets were in conjunction in the East. That would look like quite an extraordinary star."

"Star?" asked Rose thoughtfully.

"Shepherds--Bethlehem??" squawked Father. "You mean--?!"

"Shhh," smiled Aedh. "Don't wake the baby."

[Aedh]

“But why here? Why now??” asked Father as they made their way back to the Master’s TARDIS.

“He must mean to do away with Christmas itself,” said Rose. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

“If he did, it certainly wouldn’t bring the old Libria back,” observed Father. “And anyway, you can’t defeat history that easily. There’s many another wintertide holiday around the solstice. If Christmas had never been, TESCO would still be having ‘Saturnalia’ holiday promotions and ‘Felix Festa Dies’ sales events. And they’d probably still have that--” she sneered--’Girls Aloud Holiday Bint-Tactular!”

“What’s wrong with Girls Aloud?” asked Rose.

“You havin‘ me on?” snorted Father. “They’re a bunch of chavvy bints pumped up with collagen and silicone, and held together with spandex and hairspray. And as for the so-called singing, I’d rather hear a fox killing a cat. Sounds about the same, but a lot shorter and it doesn’t get boomed at you every time some boy racer drives by. If I find out who’s responsible for copies of that DVD flooding Libria, he’s for summary combustion--along with all the DVDs.”

“But, surely, the Hall of Destruction was closed, or so I read in my briefing,” said Rose.

“Yes … well, what was closed, can be reopened. We all make a Jaffa now and then,” muttered Father, drawing something gleaming and metal out of her inside pocket.

“You expecting trouble?” asked Rose, hushed.

“When the going gets tough,” said Father, slowly unscrewing a metal cap, “the tough get drinking.” She took a pull from her hip flask, and offered it to Rose.

Suddenly both women felt tugs on their shoulders … they turned to see the Evil Genius stopped, motioning for silence. “What--??” Rose began, cut off by a gesture. He drew them into the deep shadow of a wall, and pointed.

At first, Rose saw nothing, but Father nodded, and then she too saw it; a dim bluish flash light, weaving back and forth on a wall and ground … a light such as might be made by--well, any number of things, but all of them ran on batteries and none belonged in 5 BC.

“That’s a Sweeper’s tac torch,” breathed Father.

“Yep. Our friends appear to have gotten free sooner than we expected,” whispered the big man.

“Which means the Master’s about,” finished Rose. “Not good at all.”

“So what do we do?” asked Father. “We’ve got to--”

As the two Sweepers came into view, another light appeared behind that pair. There were obviously two-person teams searching the town methodically for something. For them, Father had no doubt. A native man rounded the corner and froze with a gasp, finding the weird light fixed on him. “You! Halt in the name of the Master!” “Your master, King Herod, that is,” put in the other one. The terrified man made no sound or movement.

“Tell us. Where is the baby in the stable? We’ve come take him,” said the first Sweeper. “Take him gifts, that is,” supplied the other. “So where is he?”

“I know nothing of any baby in a stable,” moaned the citizen. “I’m looking for my son--he wandered away from our lodging last night and must be found. Let me go, good men!”

“How can they understand each other without translators?” Rose whispered. “Unless … “

“Unless there’s a Time Lord very near by,” completed Aedh grimly.

By this time the other torch had approached … not only two more Sweepers, but a third, commanding figure as well--a short exchange revealed the Master’s voice. “Take him away,” he ordered testily. “Make sure he’s out of the way until we’re done.”

“If only that lot hadn’t gotten away before we could track them--they would have led us straight there,” said the officer.

“They still might,” said the Master. “But one way or another we’ll get it done. Either we’ll get that child alive … or every male baby in the city will die.”

[Aedh]

Father, hearing the Master's threat, felt sickened … something about a bargain with the current king of this dreary dirtpile, who appeared to be some sort of paranoid schizophrenic. Only Aedh’s hand over her mouth kept her from cursing. She had nothing against evil overlords: she was one herself on--as a rule--days containing the letter T in their names, though also on other occasions such as might from time to time present themselves. Evil was one thing; mass infanticide was something else. With a few final words to the effect that he would await them at the main square at dawn, the Master left, and the other Sweepers passed on, too.

“We’ve got to warn those people,” said Rose urgently.

“We’ve got to get that TARDIS while the Master’s away,” Aedh shot back.

Both of them looked at Father, who was momentarily speechless: if they were looking for a tie-breaker they might have to wait. This was a day without a T, but the Evil Overlord, if down, was never out.

Grab that working TARDIS! urged Evil O. What are you waiting for--for the Master to award you the keys personally??

Be responsible for once, said Inner Father. You’re Father--it’s your job to look after people!

Too right! scoffed Evil O. But you won’t get far with that job if you get left here, will you?? There’s one TARDIS leaving town and you of all people had better be on it!

Save the children! pleaded Inner F.

Save yourself! commanded Evil O, giving Inner F a box on the ear.

At that, Inner F produced a Cleric Beretta and shot Evil O neatly between the eyes, which turned into little X's as she slumped down to a sitting position, tongue lolling. The bullet of justice kicks evil's ass every time, said Inner F, stowing the Beretta. Go on then!

"We're with Rose," said Father, assuming a determined look.

"'We?'"

"Yes, I mean you and I," Father told Aedh. "If we don't stop this, there might be a Libria to go back to, but it might not be worth it. We might return to find a Church of Amy Winehouse." Even Aedh shuddered at that. "Let's go," he said.

Carefully, fully alert for Sweepers or anything else out of place, they picked their way back toward the stable. They were within sight of the inn when they heard an eerie clanking, groaning noise. They all traded a look. "That means no good, I'll be bound," growled the big man, drawing his little Bobcat out, which nearly vanished in his fist. But Rose stayed his arm.

"It's the Doctor's TARDIS," she exclaimed. "He must have used timeslip tracing or something similar to find us." And indeed, the blue police call box appeared, flashing blue for a moment, then switching off. The door opened, and the tall, scarfed, hatted figure emerged, accompanied by a small woman with bobbed brown hair.





"Ah, there you are," said the Doctor. "Spot on!"

"Not so fast," returned Father, levelling her own Beretta at them. "Who are you really? We've been taken in once already."

"He's the Doctor," said the new woman. "And I'm Peri Brown."

"How do we know?" asked Father menacingly. "I have an idea," said Aedh, leaning his head over to whisper to her, but keeping his eyes on them. Father nodded. "Over here, you," said Aedh to the tall man, and Father motioned the woman to another side. Within a moment, each had been quietly asked Peri's real first name, and told to spell it ... as the Evil Genius had said, no two impostors would be likely to come up with the same spelling. But as both correctly spelt it 'Perpugilliam,' that seemed alright. The matter was settled when a few small, furry creatures emerged from the TARDIS' door, chittering softly and looking around with huge round eyes that seemed to glow a bit in the dark.

"It's the Doctor right enough," said Rose. "Who else would tolerate Katzmin hitch-hiking along?"

"Too right," said Father with a shiver, pocketing her weapon. "Just keep 'em away from me," said Aedh. "I have no desire to be shrunk again."

"Look, Doctor--the Master's still here," explained Rose. "With a platoon of Librian Sweepers. They're looking for a newborn baby boy in a stable. They mean to kidnap him at least ... and perpetrate a massacre, perhaps."

"Oh, my! Massacre? No, that's not on, I'm afraid," commented the Doctor with a frown. "You know where this child is?" "Yes, just over there, behind the inn." Rose pointed.

"Right. Peri, you go warn them--take Father. Oh! I see the three of you acquired Kalandrian translator circlets--and lost the etherialiser belts." "It happened in the Master's TARDIS," said the big man. "He was undoubtedly planning to break the Sweepers up to canvass the town--probably a man in each team to have one of these translators. Taking them surely slowed down his plan."

"I hope so," rejoined the Doctor. "Well, not to worry. Go, ladies. Aedh, I need an Evil Genius's assistance inside."

"Not more trouble with the TARDIS, I hope?" As Father and Peri left, the Doctor replied: "Not as such ..."

"What, then?" The Doctor steered him into the TARDIS, where two score Katzmin were clustered around a console. The screen was turned away, but the little creatures were chittering and flapping happily, doing a sort of little dance ... to the strains of 'All I Want For Christmas Is A Football Star,' from the Girls Aloud DVD. "I can't get them to stop watching it," the Doctor explained. "This is their ninth consecutive time through it, and, frankly, it's starting to give me a headache."

[Aedh]

While Aedh went to work trying to defuse the uncanny Katzmin-Bint phenomenon, Peri and Father entered the stable to find the light dimming ... dawn was approaching, and one shepherd remained awake. "Ah!" he said to Father. "You return, with another--?"

"There's danger," said Father quickly. "You must wake them up, I'll explain. Quickly, quickly!" The parents were gently roused, and Peri and Father, both talking at once, explained the situation to them as they rubbed their eyes, trying to orient themselves. "Wait ... you are ... she is ... a ... Peri?" asked the man. "I do not understand her language. But then, a Peri is a creature from the heavens. It is like a dream to me."

"Yes, she comes from--from the skies, with this warning," said Father urgently. "You must get away from this place immediately!" No further warning was needed; Miriam bundled up the child as the man put her cloak around her, then donned his own.

They were nearly to the safety of the TARDIS when a blue light swept the area, and fixed on them, joined by another, and a third. "Freeze!" came the command. "By order of the Master!"

Father had her Berettas, and normally taking out a crew of Sweepers would be no problem. But she was with Peri and the family ... so she drew herself up to full height and said haughtily, "Who is this Master? Do you not know who I am? I am Father, chief executive of Libria! It is my uniform you're wearing, and my weapons you're carrying. You will stand down at once, Sweepers."

There was hesitation, and a sergeant said, "It is Father ... we weren't told about this."

"Father's commands must be obeyed at all times," said another, his indoctrination ticking over at full speed. "It is for the good of Libria."

Father motioned the others along toward the TARDIS, and they were within a few yards of the doors when another voice rang out. "What is this? Halt! I am the Master--you will obey me! Seize them!"

"We have a situation, sir," said the sergeant. "This is Father!"

"No, as I explained before, idiot, this is an impostor--not the real Father," said the Master sharply.

For an answer, Father slowly drew out her hip flask, unscrewed the cap, and had a long swig, neat.

"That's Father alright," muttered a Sweeper. At that moment the TARDIS doors opened. "What's taking--? Oh!" said the Evil Genius. "You again. You're harder to get rid of than genital warts, you know that?"

"Arrest them!" yelled the Master. Aedh urged Peri and the others inside as the Sweepers hesitated at the spectacle of the two Clerics confronting them--one the Father they knew and loved, the other the dreaded Vice-Council. "You're getting rather ... emotional, aren't you, Master?" asked the big man, walking slowly toward him. Even the Katzmin outside quieted, seeming to vanish in the air of menace.

"Methinks it's time we--adjusted his dose," said Father.

Inside the TARDIS, Katzmin swarmed about; one, hanging from an acoustic panel, lost its grip and fell on the control console, causing a commotion during which a button got pushed, and the doors closed, the clanking and groaning activating. The best the Doctor could do was hit a destination preset ...

... but outside, hearing their ride disappearing, whatever their feelings, Aedh and Father had to maintain their emotionless exteriors; the Master's hold on the Sweepers was shaken, but not broken. The Evil Genius slowly pulled his PIU from his pocket and held it out to the Master, checking his double-dialled watch. "Time for your Prozium," he said. "If it's good enough for the rest of us, it's good enough for you. And if you refuse to take it, by the law of Libria you are under arrest for forsaking your dose and indulging in Sense-Offence. You will be detained, and remanded for summary processing."

The Master hesitated, but the Sweepers' eyes were on him. He seemed to be thinking ... what was Prozium after all but that which would enable him to do his work even better? It was certainly safe and effective, as he had told everyone--certainly. He took the PIU and examined the ampoule of amber liquid inside, and put it to his neck and dosed himself.

Everyone watched. "Now ... " the Master said. "Now I'm going to have you executed."

Father drew her Berettas and took stance; Aedh did likewise, even though one hand was empty and the other displayed only a nub of the little twenty-two calibre pocket pistol.

"After, that is ... after we have a little--little song," added the Master. He broke into an off-key tune: "See the little goblins, dancing in a row ... it's time to tumty-tum ... come on--how'sh that goesh again?"

The Sweepers looked around; Aedh looked at Father. "Prozium 2.0, cask strength," he said. "Distilled in Scotland since 1898."





"I am the Mawshter!" said the Time Lord, rallying. "U will ... ah, shcrew it. Let'sh get ... shmall, peoplesh!"

Obligingly, the Katzmin took up a chant, and suddenly the Master disappeared in a flash .. or almost disappeared. "The master race's weakness ... Time Lords never could hold their whis--I mean, their Prozium 2.0," said Aedh, solemnly stooping down to pick up a thumb-sized Master, singing about goblins in a mouselike squeak.

"Sweepers, these are your orders," said Father. "We will return to Libria at once, by the means by which you came. Let's go."

"His machine won't run without him," said the Sweeper sergeant, as they made their way back into the Master's TARDIS.

"I think all it needs is the bio-signature of his presence," said the Evil Genius, once inside, inspecting the console. "That is, if he has an auto-return set. Do you?" he asked the miniature figure as Father helped herself to her hip flask again. The tiny Master emitted a tiny belch. "I'm Master Chunder," it squeaked. "'N' I shay, lesh do the 'Time Warp' again!" Then it passed out. The Evil Genius reached for a lever. "Here's hoping," he said; unseen by anyone else, three Katzmin were pushing a disc up toward the console ...

"Wait," said Father, developing an evil gleam of her own in her eye. "We have a time and space machine ... a stout crew of Sweepers ... it's time to ... to after our booty--to go a-pirating! Yarr! Yo ho ho, me hearties! Weigh anchor!" The floor shook to the sudden strains of Girls Aloud's 'Away In An Aston-Martin,' competing with a sea shantey from the Sweepers, and as the machine disappeared, the desert dawn echoed to an enraged female yell: "Right! It's the plank for you, you little buggers!!"

[Mirabilis]

Heheh....Pirate Queen Father... ;D

[Aedh]

The doors of the Doctor's TARDIS opened to reveal sand--and palm trees ... and pyramids.

"Egypt?" asked Peri incredulously. "That's a bit of a hop, isn't it?"

Miriam smiled, as the baby in her arms stretched and yawned, and her husband said with a smile, "Our people came out of Egypt once ... I see no reason why our family can't do it again. It is well enough."

"And I've always wanted to see the Sphinx for real," said Rose. "Doctor, didn't you have a theory about it being used as a celestial calculator or something?"

The Doctor grinned and slipped his sonic screwdriver into his coat pocket. "Why don't we find out?"


>< >< ><


Inside the Master's TARDIS, as lights flashed, Father swept away the dancing Katzmin and yanked out the offending disc. Aedh reflected, "It's been something ... I had a trip to Christmas Present, and Christmas past ... never had Christmas Yet To Come though."

Father shoved the DVD in front of him. "What's THIS??" She pointed to certain words on it: An EGE Ltd/TESCO Production. She turned menacingly. "I'll give YOU 'Christmas Yet To Come,' me old beauty ... in the combustion chamber!! Unless, perhaps, you make it your business to make every single copy of this abomination disappear!!"

"There's about three and a half billion of them!" said the Evil Genius despairingly ... then he snapped his fingers. "Just about ... one for each Katzmin!"

"They can all take 'em back to their perishing planet if they want," said Father. "If they pledge never to show their furry hides in Libria again!"

"Sounds like a plan," said Aedh. He adjusted his Universal Translator and crouched down ... trying to make himself understood to the creatures, having to chitter and flap a bit ... and flap some more ... Flap ... flap ...

... until he came to, flapping amid tangled sheets in his own bed, in his own house, with daylight flooding the windows. Out of the bedclothes he sprang, rushing to the casement and throwing it open to hear the sound of Christmas bells in the snowy street of his own neighbourhood. "It's Christmas!" he shouted down.

A few passersby looked up quizzically. "IT'S CHRISTMAS!!" he bellowed happily. Then he turned and nearly tripped over a crate of DVDs.

He thought ... It was all a dream ... or was it? He didn't care about that at the moment ... but it occurred to him that there really was a Father, and there really were all these DVDs ... and after all, Christmas wasn't about offending anyone. He remembered Peabody's words ... It's only once a year. And there was truth to it.

He dressed hurriedly, pausing only for his usual breakfast of a drinking yoghurt, a coffee, and a quick cigarette, slipping a book he'd been reading into his pocket, and then was off to the countinghouse. Once there, he logged in and cancelled the deal for EGE-TESCO to take over Waitrose Supermarkets ... on reflection, some competition did keep everyone on their toes, and make them think. And if a few toffs demanded fresh ground coffee ... well ... he thought for a moment of his own larder, stocked for him by domestic staff who had been under orders to procure quality over quantity. It would do. Sir Scary Leaky wouldn't be pleased, but then again sometimes there was just no pleasing people. Then he hurried to Peabody's house, where, to the man's joy, and the tears of his wife and little Katie, awarded him a long-overdue rise in pay. "I told you," declared Katie to her siblings. "I told you he was a nice man really!" And the warmth as she hugged him was the grandest thing he had ever felt.

Then he headed for Father's office. He was admitted by her staff ... and inside, he found, not Father, but Mamba, sleekly-suited, reclining in Father style with her snappy stiletto-heeled Italian boots in the place on the desktop where Father's had begun to wear a mark. She was consulting with a few Clerics and administrators. "What's this?" he asked.

Mamba replied, "I was hoping, Dad, you could share some information with us on that." She put her heels down and handed him a note, on which was scrawled: "Gone lookin' for me booty! Yarr!" and signed with a swift skull and crossbones and a kiss print. "Also, we were wondering why an entire platoon of Sweepers seems to have vanished."

"There's a, um, bit of a story, there," said the big man.

"Well, it's all up to you to sort out," returned Mamba crisply. "You're in charge for now, Vice-Council."

"Orders, sir?" asked the Chief of Staff.

"Have all the Girls Aloud DVDs recalled," he told Mamba. "I have a better market for them off-planet ... and a better idea for our promotion. Inspired by my recent experiences." He reached into this pocket and brought out a small book, on whose covers were inscribed in large, friendly letters, the words: DON'T PANIC.

"Very well."

"And for the rest of you ..." he surveyed the Tetragrammaton's top staff evenly ... "I have a project in mind. We'll need a horse costume for two people. And I suggest you all get used to the idea of shouting 'Behind you!' and 'Oh yes it is!' and 'Oh no it isn't!' in close order. And Mamba dear, I want to see the best three gag writers we know, with a copy of 'Puss In Boots.' And open the bar."

"Sir?" enquired the Chief of Staff.

The big man fixed him with a steady gaze, and said: "You, be back here in an hour with a fright wig and a dress to fit." Then he gave a general grin. "And a happy Christmas to all!"





The End.

[Mirabilis]

Bravo!! Loved it! ;D