It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)

Well, I didn't manage to get my review completed, and now I never will - because this is the last day. I have some friends going to an end-of-the-world party tonight; if the more apocalyptic ancient Mayans were wrong and there is another day (the first of the next Long Count) they'll be cheering and pulling party poppers just after midnight. Because, y'know, those Mayans calculated everything using Greenwich Mean Time.

Me, I won't be there because we're hosting a Winter Solstice party, which is an altogether more hopeful (and repeatable) event. The longest night - halfway through the dark. Not, as some might have it, halfway out of the dark, because that would presumably be midway between the Solstice and the Spring Equinox, but why quibble? (Ans.: Because it's fun. Until someone takes it too far.)

The thing is, there's a lot of this sort of stuff going on at the moment. My aunt's 99th Birthday party was three days ago (although my back meant I couldn't go), and there's some newfangled celebration happening in four days time that people seem to have got quite excited about. And all this means I'm going to be spending a lot of time away from the computer.

So instead of dazzling you with my reviewing prowess (or not, as the case may be), I'll wish you a happy celebration of your choice. Take it easy, be excellent to one another, and I'll see you on the other side.

Fingers crossed.

Next Time:
My review of The Lion... eventually. Don't hold your breath!

The Talking Stones of Tyron Bonus Material

Not David Richardson: Hello! I'm here with the author of The Talking Stones of Tyron, John G. Wood.

John G. Wood: Hello.

NDR: Hello. So, John: How did you come to be writing this two-parter?

JGW: It was all a bit of a last-minute decision, really. I was watching The Lion, the first episode of The Crusade, which is part of the Lost in Time boxset; and there was an introduction by William Russell.

NDR: In character as Ian Chesterton.

JGW: Exactly. It may contradict a comment in The Sarah Jane Adventures, but in my mind Ian does grow old.

NDR: That's the beauty of fan fiction: you can ignore whatever you want.

JGW: Yes, though there's also plenty of expanded universe material that I can point to as a counter-example anyway.

NDR: So, you were watching the introduction. What did you think of it, by the way?

JGW: I liked it.

NDR: Can I press you for more? I'm sure the listen... um, readers would want to know.

JGW: Well, I suppose it was a bit cheesy; but that doesn't really bother me, and William Russell always adds a touch of class. It was quite stilted as a monologue - doing it as an interview might have been better - but it got the job done, gave us a chance to actually see the older Ian in action (which is something Big Finish can't) and showed that he was doing alright for himself in later life. Which was nice.

NDR: And Tyron?

JGW: Oh, yes. Well, Ian mentioned a couple of previous adventures, neither from TV, which was a pleasant surprise. The one I didn't recognise was The Talking Stones of Tyron. A quick Internet search told me that this was an unwritten adventure, first mentioned in the novelisation of the Crusade. It was a fascinating title, and immediately conjured up for me the landscape covered with stones described in the flashback sequence of Barbara's second viewpoint section.

NDR: This is your first mixed-viewpoint story, isn't it?

JGW: Yes - at least, my first for Doctor Who. Actually, it works quite well, because I'm now very familiar with Ian's voice, reasonably so with Barbara's - and not at all with Vicki's. So it gave me a chance to practise hers without having to keep it up for the whole story.

NDR: Despite the changing viewpoints, you've made this very much Vicki's story.

JGW: It seemed to me that she's been a hanger-on since she joined, and I thought it would be nice to make her a bit more proactive before we got to The Space Museum. That way it's not so much of a jump when she takes charge there. I don't know if she does that more in The Crusade, because I don't remember it very well; but hopefully it won't clash.

NDR: So basically, you're trying to smooth out the development of a character? Thinking about the overall narrative of the show?

JGW: You make it sound like some grand design! That was just a hook I used to provide some character motivation - it was something I noticed as I was writing Vicki's thoughts, and ran with it. My only idea at the start was to write a story featuring the talking stones, because they sounded cool.

NDR: Let's talk about the stones.

JGW: Well, I suppose it is their Fiftieth anniversary.

NDR: Har Har. Your stones have already been praised as "clever and original", and "a unique alien threat".

JGW: Yes, I was chuffed to see such a positive comment before I'd even finished posting the whole story!

NDR: I'll ask the obvious question: where did you get the idea from?

JGW: Heh. Well, half of it came pretty much straight away. I had this sunflower seed pattern as an image in my mind - I put in the Fibonacci bit because this is set fairly early in the show's history, where a little scientific exposition is compulsory in an SF adventure - and I wondered if I could keep the stones as they were in my head, rather than make them move about like Ogri or something. Telepathy seemed an obvious get-out, but then I wondered if they could use people to speak through.

NDR: Like Stephen Hawking in reverse!

JGW: Well, yes. But I hadn't thought about them being anything to do with computers at that point.

NDR: So when did you come up with that?

JGW: Really late in the day. I'd already posted the whole of the first episode and written the first couple of sections of the second.

NDR: As late as that?

JGW: Yep.

NDR: Wow. So basically you wrote the first half of the story without knowing where it was going?

JGW: Not exactly. I knew where it was going; what I didn't know was why. What was the motivation of the stones? How did they arise? That was what was missing. But I knew what they were going to do - the scenes of the Doctor rejecting Vicki and Ian being captured were the first to form in my mind. I had one in mind for Barbara, too, but that changed completely before I got to it.

NDR: Isn't it important to know the 'why', though?

JGW: Sometimes. That's one of the challenges of doing these serialised fiction pieces in the blog: I always have to post a section before I'm really ready. But it's good, too, because it forces to me keep on writing come what may. My (unpublished) novel was written in a completely different way. The beginning came first, then the end, then key scenes in the middle; and lastly I connected up the dots, as it were.

NDR: Which do you prefer?

JGW: Tricky. I probably get a better result if I lay down the key scenes first, but writing in order is certainly quicker.

NDR: I thought the tension built well in the first episode.

JGW: Thank you. Sadly, the reading public didn't agree. I don't have access to viewing numbers on Gallifrey Base, but on elvwho every time I switch to fanfic I immediately lose two thirds of the readership, and that rapidly tailed off even more during Dialogue Disasters. Scene 3 has my lowest ever viewing figures - only one page view! In contrast, my review of The Escape - my most popular post, for some reason - has had 140 page views, and even the more recent Echoes of Future Past, sandwiched between the two episodes of this story, has got to 20.

NDR: You sound bitter.

JGW: No, I didn't mean to. It's just... well, let's say it's a good job I'm doing it for my own benefit, and not for acclaim. Though, having said that, I'd stop if I never got any positive feedback like bethhigdon's comment.

NDR: So, getting back to the story for a moment-

JGW: Sorry.

NDR: No, no, it's fine. I just wondered how you came to write such a different second episode?

JGW: It wasn't just the stones' motivation I lacked. I realised that I could see two possible ways for the story to go: either everyone got captured, in which case I couldn't see a way out; or they weren't, but then the stones were just stuck sitting there until Vicki thought of something. Neither provided much tension. I also spotted that it was hard to switch viewpoints when Vicki was the only one still free!

NDR: Is that when you decided to do some sections from the stones' points of view?

JGW: Exactly. And once I did I had to differentiate between the three of them to keep the dialogue interesting, so I came up with the idea of the stones thinking with their captives' minds.

NDR: Well, I certainly felt that made them more creepy.

JGW: So did my son! And it was while writing the first of these scenes that I came to a couple of conclusions. I decided that the focus of the episode had to shift from the conflict - because there was nowhere for that to go, really - to character, and that I should make it a character piece not just for Vicki, but also for the stones. Which meant that there had to be room for the reader to feel some sympathy for them, even while they were still a threat.

NDR: It's certainly a gradual reveal. I really disliked the stone-Doctor in his first scene.

JGW: Good! I tried to plant a few seeds, there, but still have him come across as a manipulative b-

NDR: Like the real Doctor, in a way.

JGW: But less cuddly.

NDR: Well, he is made of stone!

JGW: Anyway, while I was writing that scene I realised that I had these big lumps of silicon and a wireless means of communication, and it was like a computer network in a way; and the image of Tyron as a massively parallel computer with silicon and organic parts just seemed to fit. Everything just sort of fell into place then.

NDR: What about the epilogue? You seemed quite unsure about that.

JGW: Yes, and I still am! Obviously it's my first time writing for another Doctor, and it's a team not all the readers will have much experience with, being audio only.

NDR: I would have thought that anyone who is likely to read your story will know the seventh Doctor and Ace; it's just Hex who hasn't appeared on TV. Any particular reason for including him?

JGW: His reactions provide a great contrast to Ace's. I could just imagine him on that rooftop, trying to take it all in. I hope I didn't overdo the accent and verbal tics. But actually, that's not my biggest worry.

NDR: Which is...?

JGW: That the serial might work better without a happy ending, with the fate of the stones left hanging. It doesn't matter how well (or badly) that epilogue is written if it deflates the story. Even my wife - who did an English degree - couldn't tell me if it was a good idea or not.

NDR: I see. Thank you, you've given us some interesting insights into a fanfic author's mind. Is there anything else you want to add?

JGW: Can I just say that lunch here has been a bit of a disappointment? I had hoped I could imagine something as tasty as Big Finish's famed offerings, but it's all been a bit... bland.

NDR: We'll try and do better next time. John, thank you very much.

JGW: You're welcome.

Next Time:
What, you want an actual review? How about The Lion? Probably coming Friday...

The Talking Stones of Tyron: Epilogue

Author's note: I was not sure whether to include this epilogue or not, so I would welcome feedback. Does it enhance or harm the experience of reading the story? Is your decision influenced by how familiar you are with the featured TARDIS crew?

The young nurse stood on the rooftop, leaning on the rail and watching the figures below. "My God," he said, the shock clear in his voice, "just look at 'em all. It's unbelievable."

The woman next to him nodded. "Yeah. It is." Her voice was weary, but calm. There was horror underneath the supportive, sympathetic tone, but it was an old horror, dulled by repetition.

"They were, like, really nice to me, you know? When we first got here I thought they were just these big dumb animals, but then after we got separated they went out of their way to help me. I mean, there they were, just munching on the plants by the side of the walkways; how was I supposed to know they were intelligent? I thought it was like those cows in India - they roam all over, and nobody stops them, right? An' I was just standing there, wondering how I could find someone to speak to, when one of them asks me if I'm alright, in this big, booming voice. I nearly jumped out of me skin! He took me to this restaurant they keep just for aliens, and the chef - Mrr'ochah or something - made me this meal, an' he was so happy because he'd never had a chance to cook for a human before." He made a fist, banged it on the rail. "Now he really is just a mindless animal. Like everyone else. I mean, God, it's a whole species wiped out in a second."

"That's not quite true - they have colonies on several other planets. The psi bomb took out the higher brain functions of everyone on their homeworld, but it's left all the infrastructure intact. They won't have any trouble recolonising it."

"An' that's supposed to make me feel better, is it?"

"Come on, Hex, at least we made sure nobody else has to suffer the same fate!" Ace paused, took a breath. "Listen, mate, we'd better get back to the TARDIS. We need to be out of here before anyone else arrives; you know how much the Doctor hates answering questions."

"Oh yeah? Well, if we're in such a hurry where is he? An' what's he been up to all this time?"

"Making arrangements, Mister Hex." The nurse jumped as the Doctor's rolled 'r's sounded in his ear.

"An' what's that supposed to mean? Another one of your secret plans, too important to tell mere mortals, right?"

"Not at all. Several lifetimes ago I made a promise, one I never expected to keep. What happened here is a tragedy; but it finally gives me the opportunity to put that right. Although you may have to put aside some of your cultural prejudices regarding the treatment of the brain-dead."

Ace sighed again. "Alright, Doctor, out with it."

"Not here! I'll tell you once we are safely in the TARDIS."

The three of them walked back to the ship. In another galaxy, the stones of Tyron were waiting for a chance to speak again...

Next Time:
The author talks about The Talking Stones of Tyron. Ho hum.

The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 8

Vicki helped the Doctor get up, and supported him as they started out on the long walk back to the ship. His legs were giving him trouble, and it was a sign of how bad they were that he allowed her to help. As circulation returned, however, he straightened up, swung his cane, and without words made sure she knew he was back to his normal self.

They passed the point where Ian had lain; it was empty, just a patch of flattened grass. The Doctor wasn't in a talkative mood, so they walked on in silence. It gave Vicki the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the world again, now that the threat was over; but even so, she wanted to get back to the TARDIS as soon as possible.

As the ship came into view, she could make out Ian and Barbara standing by the door. Of course - she had the spare key! The Doctor sped up, slightly, but it was still some time before they got back home.

Home. It was a relief to find that it was still true. She hadn't lost her new family. On one level, she had always known the truth, that it wasn't the Doctor driving her away; but there was that nagging doubt underneath, that feeling of insecurity which was always there. The realisation crossed her mind briefly, but she wasn't one for introspection; and as soon as they were near enough she called out to the others, then ran forward and wrapped her arms around Barbara. The Doctor, coming up behind, shook Ian's hand warmly.

"Doctor," said the the teacher, "it's good to see you back to your old self! I don't know what you did, but thank you anyway."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear boy. Besides, it's young Vicki who most deserves your gratitude - without her we would all be stuck to those stones still."

"Vicki?" The expression on Ian's face was priceless. Vicki, blushing from the Doctor's unexpected praise, still felt a momentary flash of annoyance that he should be so surprised. Well, this wouldn't be the last time - she was going to take the lead more often from now on, and he would just have to get used to it.

Barbara stepped back from the hug and looked down at the teenager. "I don't recall much after that thing started controlling me, but I can tell you it wasn't a pleasant experience. So, thank you very much." Ian echoed her appreciation.

"What do you remember?" asked Vicki.

"Only snatches after that odd conversation where you looked so worried," said Ian. "I couldn't understand why."

"And I remember trying to show you there was something wrong by keeping my teeth together," added Barbara.

"Well, it worked!" replied Vicki. "I wouldn't have been sure I was right without that."

The Doctor harrumphed. "That's all very interesting, I'm sure, but we can't stand about here all day." He unlocked the ship and disappeared inside; Ian laughed. "I did say he was back to his usual self, didn't I?" He ruffled Vicki's hair. "Come on."

They all followed the Doctor inside. He was fiddling with the controls on the central console, obviously eager to move on.

"Goodness," said Barbara, "look at the state of these clothes! I'm just covered in grass stains. Time for a wash and a change, I think."

"Me too," said Ian, ruefully. "You'd think we could at least go for a quiet swim without getting filthy, wouldn't you?" He looked at Vicki. "What about you?"

"Oh, I don't think I'm too bad - I'll change later." Besides, she thought, I want a word with the Doctor.

As soon as the others were out of the room, the Doctor slumped, leaning on the console. Vicki came up to him. "What really happened back there, with the other stones? I could only hear one part of the conversation."

The Doctor put his arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes, my dear, there are things we wish we could change, but cannot. This was one such. The Stones of Tyron are not evil, but still they could have brought about our deaths. They chose not to, at great sacrifice to themselves; and that is how we should remember them."

Vicki knew she would get no more from him, but she wasn't stupid; she could figure out what he meant. She didn't like to see him so sad, though, and decided that if he wouldn't draw a line under the affair, she would. She took one last look out of the doors and then threw the lever to close them. "Where to next, Doctor?"

"Hm? Oh, I don't know."

"Why don't we just take off and see where we end up?"

A slight smile crossed the Doctor's face, and he looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Why not, indeed?" He straightened up and started operating the controls again.

As the central column began to rise and fall, Vicki couldn't resist one final dig. "Still, it was funny, hearing someone else sounding exactly like you."

He looked up at her, frowning. "Exactly like me, you say? Nonsense! A mere caricature at best. What has happened to your critical faculties, young lady?"

Vicki gave him a friendly hug, and headed back to her room, his complaints following her down the corridor.

Next Time:
An epilogue. I was going to post it along with this, but since I'm not sure if it's a good idea I'll leave it a couple of days so you can decide if it's better to stop here.

The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 7

"Doctor? Doctor!" Barbara sighed. "It's no use, Ian, he won't resume contact."

Ian could tell she was worried from the tone of her voice; he wanted to put his arm around her shoulders, tell her everything would be OK. But he couldn't, and not just because they were so far apart. "It's been a while now. Do you think it was Vicki? Do you think she could have done something to him?"

"It, Ian. Why do you two keep referring to it as 'she'?"

"I... don't know. I was trying to explain to the Doctor earlier, I think there's something wrong with us. There's a, a fuzziness to the Mouth-minds that gets in the way. They are dealing with so much more than instinct and autonomic processes, even without us, that it becomes hard to direct them. It's as if we're trying to fit into a vessel of the wrong shape."

"Oh, rubbish!" There was laughter in her voice, a lightness that made him feel warm inside. "There's a simpler explanation: men just aren't as good at it as women."

"There! That was a Mouth-mind thought. You wait and see, Barbara. You've not been active as long as I have, but you'll find it happening more and more. These Mouths are no good for us."

Barbara was about to respond, when they heard the Doctor.

"Chesterton? Miss Wright? Can you hear me?"

"Coming through loud and clear," replied Ian, relieved. "Are you okay, Doctor? What happened with Vic... with the fourth one?"

"Oh, don't fuss so! It's all taken care of now. But there are some details that are still not quite clear, and my stone-memory seems incapable of supplying the details. Perhaps yours are more intact?"

"Go on."

"Well, hrm, I've had this feeling ever since I woke that there was something missing, but it's been frustratingly hard to pin down. When the fourth one came along, she reminded me of something. So I thought I'd ask the pair of you. We are dual beings, yes, part stone, part flesh?"

"Of course."

"But wasn't there something more? Some other vital aspect of our existence?"

Ian ransacked his own, partial stone-memory, but it was Barbara who answered first. "Do you mean the Overseers?"

The Overseers! That rang a bell...

"Thank you, Miss Wright. And what, pray tell, are the Overseers?"

"The ones who organise us, who manage the collective. They tell us what we are trying to achieve, as a group; so that each of us can contribute appropriately. You really don't remember?"

I had forgotten too, thought Ian. Though I can pick out fragments for myself, now that Barbara has given me the key information: I know that the Overseers gave us purpose. But in that case, what purpose do we serve now? He couldn't concentrate on the question, though, because the Doctor was chortling.

"Excellent, excellent! Vis, viscus, vilicus. Did you hear that, Vicki? No, of course you couldn't. But the point is, I was right!"

Barbara broke in, angrily. "You're not the Doctor!"

"Oh, but I am, my dear. Or perhaps I should say, we are. Both of us - Stone-Doctor and Mouth-Doctor - are sharing this mind at present. Pooling our resources, as it were. And now we understand.

"We understand what you are; what has happened - or part of it, at least; and why you cannot use humans as Mouths."

"No!" shouted Barbara. "You are a liar, who would say anything to save himself and his friends!"

"Perhaps I would, or at least the Mouth part of me would; but in this case there is no necessity for subterfuge. Indeed, if you will listen, I will explain-"

"No, no!" said Barbara again; she was in tears. Ian felt a stabbing pain as he realised she must have figured out whatever it was that the Doctor had discovered; and it was devastating for her. He didn't understand it yet, though, and he needed to.

"I'm listening, Doctor," he said, quietly, dreading the answer.

"Very good, my boy." The Doctor sounded sad; or perhaps Ian was projecting his expectations. "The Stones of Tyron are psychically-endowed silicon storage systems with no thinking or communication ability of their own; and this is where the Mouths come in. They are - or rather, were - specially-bred beasts with a limited intellectual capacity, each able to perform the calculations required of them and to speak with others, when directed by the psychic field of a stone."

There was silence for a few seconds, then, "that's right, Vicki," he continued; "the whole surface of the planet is one gigantic silicon/organic computer network."

Ian's head reeled; and in the silence that followed the Doctor's dramatic announcement, he could hear Barbara sobbing quietly. What did it mean? He didn't know a lot about computers, but the idea of being merely a component within one...!

"Doctor, that's -" he couldn't think of the word. "Never mind. You said you'd explain why our new Mouths aren't suitable?"

"Indeed. I, ah, thank you for your patience. Each Stone/Mouth pair was intended only for relatively limited processing, the power of the system coming from the number of nodes rather than any individual ability. That's why you - we - only needed lower minds to think with. But something happened to those beasts, oh, probably thousands of years ago to judge by the condition of the stones. A plague might have done it; I doubt we shall ever know for sure. They vanished, and as they did so the network shut down. It was pure chance that brought Vicki and her friends to Tyron, and it was only natural that your psychic fields locked onto them as replacement Mouths.

"Unfortunately they aren't Mouths. They are the equivalent of what Barbara has called Overseers. The operators of the Tyron computer, who are also vanished for reasons unknown. As such, they have a mental capability that your stones were never designed to handle. They have individuality, self-awareness; and you have borrowed all that from them."

"But it can't last. Is that what you are saying, Doctor?"

"I'm very much afraid that it is. Neither side can manage this state for long, and it needs to end."

"I see." Ian felt numb. What the Doctor was saying made sense; but it wasn't the kind of sense he had wanted to hear.

Barbara spoke up, at last. "'I see?' Is that all you have to say? Don't you understand what he's asking, Ian? He wants us to give up our identities. To die."

"Not want, my dear. No, never that. But it will happen anyway, sooner or later. Your Mouths cannot live like this, and either they will break free or they will perish. In either event, you shall no longer exist."

Ian could barely believe it, but on one level he had always known it to be true. This had never felt right, somehow. "Ah well," he said, with mock cheerfulness, "I knew it was too good to last."

"Believe me, young man, I am sorry. And if, in some future time, I find a way to restore life to the talking stones of Tyron, I will surely do so."

"But that won't bring us back, will it?"

"I... do not see how it could. Not with the, ah, as the individuals you are now. But maybe there would be a way to give you more than your original level of identity? I do not know, but then who can tell what time may bring?"

"Well, thank you for your honesty. And your promise." Mentally, he turned. "Barbara, The Doctor's right: there's no way this can work out for us. And, if it has to end - well, I think I'd prefer for it to end quickly, rather than dragging things out. What do you say?"

"Yes, I thought you might suggest that. Ian Chesterton, noble to the end." She was silent for a while; Ian wasn't sure whether to say anything or not. He was thinking about Antodus, hanging from a rope in a chasm on Skaro, who had willingly taken his own life so that Ian wouldn't have to die with him. In a way this was no different, except that this life wasn't really his in the first place. And it would go on, though without him - without the Stone-mind that currently directed his thoughts. He had to say something.

"Barbara-"

"Oh, please don't start. I know you, Ian! How could I not? We've been travelling together for such a long time. But it's not fair, you know. I've been alive for less than an hour, while you've had three times as long to feel what it's like. Don't ask me to give it up so soon."

She didn't sound like Barbara, he realised; not his Barbara. She lacked her strength, her poise. A shadow, just as he had been, an hour after he woke. But it was coming; the merger was progressing. Soon, she would be as his Mouth-mind remembered.

"We can wait," he said, not knowing if it were true or not.

"Thank you, Ian." She sighed. "Do you know something strange? I hadn't realised it myself, but that's all I really wanted. Compassion, rather than nobility. Now you've said it, I think I can... move on. Someday, if the Doctor is as clever as he thinks, I will have a new identity. And maybe, if that time is not too far in the future, my Stone-mind will have some memory of this life. So let's get it over with." She laughed, though without humour. "Right. Ready?"

No! "Yes. On the count of three, then? One, two, three." Barbara joined in the count from 'two', speaking quietly. As he severed his link with the Mouth - with Ian - he blurted out one final message. "Barbara? I love you."

The reply came back, faintly, but his hearing and consciousness were fading fast. "I know. And I love y-"

Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 8, and an (optional) epilogue.

The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 6

The Doctor watched the fourth one approaching. It was remarkable how far he could see now - the old Mouths had had more all-round vision, but they were so very limited when it came to focusing on things in front of them, or at any real distance. And most of the time they were content just to eat grass, whereas these had more complex needs. And more complex minds, of course. The more he exercised the brain, the more he realised that he had never thought like this before. It wasn't just the chemicals, or the level of cognition; it was... hm, what was it? The individuality. Yes, that was the word. He was an individual, with a name, and his own opinions. Fascinating.

He wasn't concerned about Vicki any more; after all, what could it do to get in their way? Nothing. She was just a girl, one that needed guidance and protection. And Miss Wright was simply too much of a worrier. Chesterton too, though in a different way. Yes, things were going to be fine.

Still, he probably ought to let the others know. "Vicki's coming this way. I think she wants to talk to me."

"What? We thought it was coming to me! So that's why it's been such a long time!"

"Calm down, Chesterton. It doesn't matter. Anyway, all I want you two to do is stay quiet, so I can concentrate. Do you think you can manage that, hm?"

Silence was his answer; and then young Vicki was there, striding across the bank, full of determination. Poor creature, she still looked as waiflike as she did when they had rescued her, even though so much time had passed, travelling in the TARDIS, seeing so many places...

The Doctor felt a wave of confusion. His memories were getting entangled with those of his Mouth again, rising to the surface unbidden. How could anyone think with a mind like this? It was exhausting, mad, chaotic - exhilarating. He felt as if he had never lived before! He wanted to-

"Doctor?" The voice brought him back to the present.

"Vicki, my dear! I do so apologise for my outburst. I don't know what came over me. Here, come sit by me."

"No. I know it isn't you, and I'm not going to be caught like Ian and Barbara! Tell me what you've done to them!"

The Doctor was hurt. "Me? I have done nothing to them. Why would I? Oh, I talk with them, sometimes, and with their primitive minds perhaps I influence them, yes, even lead them; but I would never do anything to harm them!"

Vicki wasn't convinced. "Oh, and I suppose you've done nothing to the Doctor, either?"

"My dear child, I am the Doctor. And I assure you, I have no intention of harming myself!" Automatically he reached for his lapels, before realising the position of his Mouth. Its hands paused, awkwardly, then fell back to its sides.

"You don't fool me for one minute. You can pretend, but-" A sudden realisation showed on Vicki's face. "You actually believe it, don't you? You really believe you are the Doctor!"

"Of course! Why shouldn't I? It's a fact. My vis directs the mind, my will controls the flesh body. It is different from previous Mouths, of course, but I daresay I will work out the details in time; and I wouldn't dream of putting it into danger by allowing it to fly willy-nilly across the universe."

"So - the part of you that is Ian, and the part of you that is Barbara, believes the same?"

"There is no 'part'. We are individuals." A look of delight passed across his face. "Yes, individuals. with our own, distinct identities and personalities. Isn't it marvellous?" He started to chuckle.

Vicki didn't seem amused, but then she was still thinking, still trying to get her simple, human mind to comprehend the situation. "So, how many of you are there?"

"Three." The Doctor chuckled again, watching her reaction. "Well, there are three of us who are active, alive. In truth, I do not know how many of us there are waiting in potentia, so to speak; lacking a Mouth to talk through, a brain to think with." For some reason an image of his Mouth's homeworld flitted across his consciousness; he ignored it. "I remember stepping out of the TARDIS. The forests have intruded quite some way into our lands, and the trees will have damaged or destroyed many of our units. At a guess I would say, oh, a billion remaining, two or three at most."

Vicki took a sharp breath; she seemed shocked. "You don't use the stones to catch people, you are the stones!"

"Well, you are half right. There are two aspects to me, the stone and the flesh. One is no more important than the other. Without flesh, there is no thought, no communication; without stone, there is no direction."

"That's not true! We have direction!"

"Indeed? Is that why you wander through time and space at random?"

"That's different." Vicki paused, looking thoughtful again. "Why are you telling me this? Aren't you afraid I'll use the information to free my friends?"

Because I am too alone, thought the Doctor. Because the company of Ian and Barbara isn't enough. Because there is something missing from my life, and I don't know what it is; and because I remember you helped fill a void once before. "I am not afraid," he said, "because there is nothing you can do. And I tell you because it does no harm, and it passes the time."

The child nodded. "I see. Well, no hard feelings, then?" She held out her hand; without thinking, the Doctor raised his Mouth's own arm to shake it.

As soon as she had a firm grip Vicki pulled, putting all her weight into the struggle. She brought her other hand round to help, but it made no difference; the Doctor's Mouth was attached to the ground as if glued there. Eventually the child fell back, giving up the fight.

"You see," said the Doctor, "It makes no difference. You cannot change things."

Strangely, Vicki was smiling. "Oh, you think so, do you?" She held up her hand; something glinted loosely on one finger.

"My ring! You stole my ring!"

There was anger in Vicki's reply. "It's not yours! It's the Doctor's!"

"But... that is... me?"

What was happening? The ring was fascinating, pulsating with prismatic energy; but as he watched it, the Doctor felt the psychic link between vis and viscus failing. About time too! he thought. No! I shall look away! You will, will you? I doubt you have the capacity, that is to say, the capability, to do something of that kind. But I don't want to go! Ah, isn't that strange? It never bothered me before. Why should I fear oblivion? But I do, I do; and so it is you who shall be separated from this flesh! Down, Mouth-mind, get back down!

As the Doctor struggled Vicki watched, moving the ring rhythmically as she had seen him do in the past, on Vortis. She looked so pale and fragile; such a small thing on which to hang the future of a world. So different from the stone, and yet, not so different from what he was missing.

One of the Doctors let go.

Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 7

The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 5

Vicki ran, roughly in the direction of Ian but veering slightly so that Barbara wouldn't be able to see her. She had to find out more, and the best way to manage that was to do a bit of spying. Which also meant keeping away from the stones: if they were the tools through which the creature exerted its influence, she didn't want to get caught too. There was no way of telling for sure how far away you had to stay in order to be safe. If it was more than six yards - half the distance between stones - then she'd had it. But it seemed likely the range was quite short; the Doctor and Ian had both been touching a stone when they'd been captured.

Oh, wait - had they? Had the creature put the thought in their minds? She remembered when Ian had nearly walked into one of the stones, shortly before he was taken over. But just before that she and Barbara had sat behind one when they got changed, huddled up close to make the best use of the limited cover. Why hadn't it grabbed them then?

Too many questions, too little information. She had to hope for a bit of luck, and find out more.

Vicki circled around, coming up behind Ian's stone, hoping that wouldn't allow the creature to detect her. To her relief, she heard Ian talking.

"But how, Doctor? At the moment it's just the three of us. What can we do on our own?" He paused, as if listening, then continued. "Frankly, I don't think that's likely to be any help. We're stymied." Another pause. "Well, I suppose that's true." Pause. "Barbara, you might have got it! Yes, that might do the trick! I just hope it gives us enough time."

Vicki was bemused. It was as if she were a little girl again, out of bed when she should have been asleep and listening to her father in his office during a televid conference, but without the muffled voices of the other participants. Could there be more than one creature, talking to each other? But why did it sound like Ian, and why did he call the others by their proper names? The only things she could work out were that Ian was well, at least physically, and that she had to do something quickly. But what?

She listened for a while longer, but nothing Ian said cast any further light on their situation. Her leg was starting to cramp and she was afraid that she might make a noise if she moved to a different position, so she crept away while she could still do so quietly.

Reminded of her father, she recalled a time when she had been stuck on a piece of schoolwork, a research project that seemed to have hit a plasticrete wall. He had taken her gently by the shoulders, sat her down; and what he said had stayed with her ever since. "Sometimes, when you can't see a way forward, it's best to stop trying. Go for a walk, listen to some music, watch a holoshow. Your mind can often do a better job when you're not pushing it so hard."

That seemed good advice now. Well, music and shows were out, but she could certainly go for a walk!

Vicki ambled up the valley. It wasn't perfect - the stones kept bringing her mind back to the problem, and it was hard to put aside the idea that she had to do something quickly - but it did help a little. To take her mind off the distractions she tried focusing on the distant landscape: rolling hills tinged greenish-blue by the grass or greenish-yellow by the trees, streams of whitish water. No mountains. Geologically an old landscape, everything worn down and softened by time. Tyron was certainly not like Vortis, with its jagged edges and craters.

Vortis had to be the key. That was the only place she had really run into a problem like this, and she was right there at the heart of it. Of course, the Doctor had been there too, leading the way; she had only supported him. And in the end it had been Barbara who had done what was needed.

And that was it, the nub of her problem. She supported, she helped: the Doctor on Vortis, Ian on Platform Five, Barbara - sort of - in Guangzhou. She wasn't the one who figured out the solutions, or the one who really made them happen. Well, that needed to change, and fast. Time to be more proactive, to - to take responsibility.

She suddenly noticed where her wandering feet had carried her: the stream flowing out from the lake that she had been swimming in less than two hours earlier. She could see the corner of the bank where, presumably, the Doctor still lay, just beyond the next rise. Her instincts were obviously telling her to run to him, to seek his guidance and protection, just as she had in the Carsinome. But that wasn't possible now, and anyway it didn't fit with the new Vicki - or did it? The Doctor always drew others into his schemes, used them to make the whole thing work, and she suspected that he didn't always have the details worked out in advance. She might be figuring it out as she went along, but she wouldn't try to do everything herself; and who better than the Doctor for her to try and rescue first, so he could join her in liberating the others?

Very well, then; he was her first target. And talking of the Carsinome, she had a wild idea which might just work...

Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 6

The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 4

The Doctor was worried. It was a new feeling; he was still getting used to thinking with the mind of his new Mouth, and this creature wasn't like the old ones. Everything was imprecise, battered by chemical impulses and random electrical surges. It allowed room for a different kind of creativity to the dull, predictable Mouths of old; but it also meant that thought was frustratingly meandering.

He had no idea how long it had been since he last had a Mouth - there was no awareness until one came into range, after all - but for some reason his stone-memory had eroded to the point that he was almost starting anew. And there were so few others to talk with! Just Ian, and Barbara beginning to wake up. Surely there should be a buzz of conversation? It was becoming apparent that the world had changed. He could think such complex ideas now, with a level of self-awareness he had never before experienced; but there was no real opportunity to discuss the possibilities, to test theories, probe weaknesses, hammer out details. What was the point of all this creativity if it couldn't be shared? Where were the Mouths for his brethren- and sistren-in-waiting?

His musings were interrupted by Ian. Odd that he felt irritated, as if it really was an interruption; for surely the purpose of existence was to converse? What was the point of solitary musing?

"Doctor! Didn't you hear me? I think Barbara's in trouble."

"And what do you expect me to do, dear boy? Run over there and give her a leg up?"

There was a pause. "I... don't know. I thought that maybe, since you've had a Mouth for longer than the rest of us, you could give her some advice? I'm having a bit of difficulty as well, to tell you the truth."

"What sort of difficulty?"

"Well..."

At that point, Barbara cut in. "Thad's bedder. Dradded creadure!"

"Do enunciate more clearly, my dear, it's hard to understand you."

"I'm drying, bud id's viding me!"

The Doctor sighed. These humans were so limited in their capabilities! No, wait, that wasn't his thought; it must be a Mouth memory. Interesting. He filed it away for future consideration.

Now, where was he?

"Doctor-" It was Ian this time. How could he think with all these distractions? It was intolerable!

"Oh, do go away, there's a good fellow."

Again the pause. "Doctor, I think it's not just Barbara and I. Something's wrong with all of us."

"What are you talking about?" Even as his impatience spilt out into his speech, the Doctor felt a thrill. Something to debate!

"Ian's ride, Dogdor. Oh, vor goodnezz zake, Mouth! Why won'd you go-operade? Bud thad's pard of wad I mean. Mouths don'd agd like thiz."

Ian took up the argument again. "Exactly. Mouths are, well, Mouths. They come when called, for one thing. And there are more of them. If a Mouth has some physical need it may wander off, but another will be along soon."

Yes, thought the Doctor. I had forgotten. That was how it was. "So where are they now, hm? And why do these new Mouths struggle so?"

"I think I can answer that." It was Barbara's voice, but something was... off.

"Barbara? Is that you?"

"No! Well, I suppose it was in a way. That was my Mouth."

"Your... Mouth?" The Doctor chuckled. "Wonderful! Quite wonderful!" This was most stimulating. A Mouth with an opinion? "Do let it go on, my dear."

Barbara cleared her throat. "Well, my name's Barbara. But you already know that. I am a human, from the planet Earth in the Twentieth Century. So is Ian, though the Doctor and Vicki are from different times. We are all travellers, and only arrived on your world by chance. I'm sorry if we trespassed, but we are not your Mouths, and if you try to hold onto us we will die. So I am asking you to let us go. Please?"

"An eloquent plea, my dear." He paused. "Barbara? Excuse me, I mean our Barbara. Did you get a better chance to study its vocal mechanisms?"

"Yes, Doctor." This time it was the expected voice. "I am in full control now."

"Excellent, excellent. So, what do you think our course of action should be?"

"Well, if these are the only available Mouths we need to make the most of them, even though they fit so poorly. But that means they will need to be released occasionally to refuel."

"Ian?"

"I agree with Barbara, but we will have to be careful how we go about it. I certainly wouldn't want two of them at large at the same time."

"Very well, I concur." There was something nagging at the back of the Doctor's mind, something else missing. He tried to track it, but the nature of the new Mouth's brain meant it kept eluding him. And the others were waiting. Perhaps it would come to him later. "In the longer term we need to figure out how to make more Mouths, but our immediate concern is the fourth one. We need to capture Vicki."

Next Time:
The Talking Stones of Tyron, scene 5