Short Trips, Companions 5.09: Distance, by Tara Samms

We're back with Tara Samms, one of Stephen Cole's pseudonyms; and, like Frayed, this is quite an odd little story. The prose is strong, and what I might call the framing premise is powerful: Barbara has a medical diagnosis confirmed (presumably cancer, though it's not stated so could be something else equally serious) and has to decide how much to tell Ian, as well as when.

Now the thing is, Jacqueline Hill died of cancer in February 1993: almost exactly ten years before this collection came out. She was one of the great losses of the wilderness years so this has a resonance, enhancing the poignancy of the story; but there's also a question of taste. What the death of actors means for their characters is a tricky issue, and with the two highest-profile recent deaths the show has chosen opposite approaches. It is made clear that Sarah Jane carries on her investigations despite the passing of Elisabeth Sladen, whereas the Brigadier and Nicholas Courtney died together. Both have, I feel, been handled with respect, and to me that's what matters.

Samms treats Barbara's impending death with respect too. As a result, it feels like a tribute to a great actress rather than a cheap trick to gain an emotional response. I called this a framing premise, however, because it's wrapped around (and entwined with) a scifi plot; and this is where the story starts to come apart for me.

The thing is - and I know I've used that phrase before - it's an entirely unremarkable SF plot. There's an alien using human bodies for its own ends, without caring about what happens to the hosts or the people in their lives. Been there, done that - and so have Iananbarbara. Ian, in fact, sorts it out in a handful of paragraphs. But there's one character - the daughter of a human the alien has used up - who is having difficulty coming to terms with the death of her father. And she is completely sidelined by the story, the focus pulling straight back onto Barbara's predicament, no more than a reflection that helps Barbara come to a decision.

Flashback to the morning of 17th July 1982: my 18th birthday. We are supposed to be away on holiday now, but yesterday we had to cut it short and come home because my dad wasn't feeling well. He has cancer - has had it for a long time, among other problems, though nobody has thought to tell me. So when I wake up I find he has been taken into hospital, again. This time he never comes out; a fortnight later, he is dead. That same day I drive the car off the road, unaware that I have no insurance since I am now the named driver of a corpse, and apparently corpses can't be insured to drive.

I am that confused, not-yet-grieving-really child, and I don't appreciate being ignored. It feels a callous move on Samms' part, and while the writer in me says that to keep the focus off Barbara makes no sense at this point, it still hurts.

I may have mentioned my dad's death before in this blog. It's a transformative moment for me, coming as it does just after leaving Sixth Form and less than two months before I go to University, to live away from home for the first time. It divides my life into 'before' and 'after'. Sometimes it still bites me.

As I said, there's a question of taste. And it's not for me to judge whether I've just used my own, personal tragedy for a cheap emotional response...

Published:
Date: March 2003
ISBN: 1-84435-006-1

Rating:
4/10.

Next Time:
We join an older Ian for a visit to The Cave of Five Hundred Skulls...

The Chase DVD, Addendum

Well, allegedly Harry Sullivan is an imbecile, but I'm not much better. I said that there were hardly any extras on the DVD of The Chase. Technically, I suppose, that's true; but there's a whole other DVD of extras in the same case, so it's probably a little harsh. What's more, I've even watched some of them! Ah well. To make up for my earlier blunder, here's an addendum with far more detail than I usually lavish on the extras.

Most of these are what my children call "talking heads" documentaries. Everybody is enthusiastic, and to an extent I can see why they put the one featuring Ray Cusick on the other disc as it has a very different feel.

The Thrill of The Chase opens the proceedings, and is, in the main, Richard Martin reminiscing about the making of the serial. He doesn't just repeat what he said on the commentary, which is good; and he's an entertaining raconteur. There is a feeling that here - at the end of his time working on the show - he had simply had enough. He believed that the Daleks had lost their initial punch, he was frustrated by the limitations of the studio cameras and hated some of the production decisions (such as the Aridian costumes). He tells the story of William Hartnell furiously declaiming that he wanted to work again, and I get the feeling that Hartnell wasn't alone!

Martin also claims that Terry Nation's scripts were little more than outlines, and that he spent a lot of time with Dennis Spooner bashing them into shape. I will be looking at similar claims when I get to the Daleks' next outing, so I'll postpone discussion of that until then.

Last Stop White City is up next, and we have the delightful sight of William Russell reading from the novelisation and The Time Travellers. I enjoyed that. The rest of the feature I will also save, this time for my Iananbarbara farewell post.

Daleks Conquer and Destroy and Daleks Beyond the Screen cover all the bases: what they were like to work with, the toys, comics, stage plays, audios and cartoons, along with Birtspeak and Dalek facts. The description of them as petulant panicky children struck a chord, while Rob Shearman mentioning Jim'll Fix It reminded me that there are some watershed moments when what one says in public changes. The shots of the new design were interesting to a neophyte Dalek builder, and the comments about how you need high or low shots for them to work made me think in terms of cinematography. Above all, what came through was the huge enthusiasm for the Daleks that existed at the time (Richard Martin's comments in the first feature notwithstanding).

Shawcraft: The Original Monster Makers was touching but with a few too many talking heads, while Follow That Dalek appealed to me because of nostalgia for the roads and houses of my childhood, even though the repeated sound effects were annoying. I was also interested to see how old Daleks work, and to see larvae guns, moon domes, and macra in colour.

The remaining extras are the Give-a-Show Slides, which I've covered in an earlier review; and the standard Photo Gallery. Isaac always likes these, and he provides a running commentary as if it were some sort of recon (often, for some reason, about the various people in the photos trying to get a decent cup of tea). Occasionally this works really well; I join in sometimes, as does my daughter, and it generally works better with two or three minds on the job. The actual content of the gallery here didn't grab me.

Overall, then, a mix; but despite some reservations I can say that this is an impressive collection of extras.

Next Time:
A glimpse of Iananbarbara's future in Distance. Zyquivilly!

Short Trips: 2013, Prologue

Rory stood on the gantry, arm in arm with his wife - his wife! - watching as the Doctor whirled around the TARDIS console like the centrepiece in some musical extravaganza, lights flashing and the intricate glass time rotor moving rhythmically up and down.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, glancing sideways at Amy.

"What?"

She didn't take her eyes off the man below. The Time Lord. With his boundless energy and frightening intellect - not to mention his magical travelling box - he still held a fascination for her, one that Rory could never match; and yet she had ended up marrying him, the boy next door. The quiet, reliable, safe one. But maybe that was what marriages were for? Safety? Leaving the dangerous ones for... something else.

"Rory?"

Finally, she was looking at him. He realised he hadn't answered her question.

"Oh, it's just that... well, we're supposed to be heading back to Leadworth after our honeymoon in 'Thailand'. Why are we going shopping two years in the future?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "A year and a half, dummy. I want to get the best coming-home presents for everyone - mum, dad, Brian, Mels, everyone - and how can we be sure that what we get them won't be duplicated by anybody else? By finding something that hasn't gone on sale yet. In the January Sales of the future!" She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and started down the steps.

Rory was slow to follow, as usual. "But w-we're coming back in the summer," he muttered. "Nobody else is going to be handing out presents anyway." He headed after Amy, raising his voice. "And aren't we interfering with the web of time or something?"

It was the Doctor who answered. "Not if you're careful," he said, continuing his mad dance. "The secret of avoiding paradox is not to get caught. I've briefed Amy."

I bet you have, thought Rory. And why didn't you brief both of us? Because I'm just the husband.

With a flourish the Doctor threw a switch, and the pitch of the engines changed as the great machine materialised. "Here you are, the fourth of January 2013, 8:52AM. I've put her down in an alley just to the East of Hyde Park - handy for Harrods, on target for Oxford Road, and splendidly situated for the Serpentine." He looked up to see if anyone was going to appreciate his alliteration, but Amy ignored it to focus on the content of his speech rather than the form.

"So - good shops in the Serpentine, are there?"

The Doctor looked slightly put out. "I thought I might feed the ducks while I was waiting."

"Hang on," said Rory. "January the fourth? Shouldn't we be trying to catch the beginning of the sales? I mean, isn't that when you get the best deals?"

"Ah." The Doctor, avoiding his eyes, had the grace to look embarrassed. "I was rather hoping nobody would mention that. Actually I had my sights on last week, but for some reason the old girl decided not to co-operate. Didn't you, dear?" He patted the console fondly, still not looking at the Ponds.

Amy grinned, and grabbed Rory's arm. "No matter - it's good enough for me." She leaned in close, the scent of her doing things to his hindbrain that blotted out most conscious thought as she led him towards the exterior doors. "Come on, handsome. London awaits."

The Doctor, engrossed in fiddling with some apparently-random device on the console, raised a hand in acknowledgement. "No, no, you take Rory. I'm getting an odd reading here, I should probably look into it." The others exchanged knowing smiles and opened the doors.

Beyond, fog swirled: greasy, damp and cloying. The sounds of London were muffled into unintelligibility, adding another dimension to the eerie atmosphere. As they stepped out Amy raised her free arm; her hand dissolved into a vague blur.

She looked at her husband, a half-frown on her face. "They don't still have pea-soupers in London, do they?"

"I don't think so."

"Thought not. Right." She turned, and marched back inside. "Hey!" she yelled. "Doctor! How about you try again, and this time put us down in the right century, okay?"

He looked up and started to speak, but Rory was distracted by a voice close by. "Hello," he said; "who's there?" He could just make out a vaguely human shape in the fog, distorting like a reflection on the surface of a river. There was a muffled reply; he still couldn't make out the words. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that?" Rory took a step, two more, and the figure started to move away. "Wait!" he called; but then he heard Amy shouting behind him. He turned back towards the TARDIS, its exterior blurred almost to invisibility but with welcoming light coming from within.

The Doctor was calling to him, urgently, telling him to get back inside. Rory started to run, only to come up short against the TARDIS doors as they swung shut in his face.

"Okaay," he called, "Not very funny. Amy? Doctor? Let me in?"

As he fumbled for his key, he heard the all-too-familiar sound of the ship starting to dematerialise. "No! No, wait for me!" He hammered on the door until it was no longer a door but one more swirl in the fog. He let his arms drop to his sides, his fists unclench.

"Oh, perfect," he said.

* * *

The Doctor looked up as Amy stormed back into the TARDIS. He hadn't been listening, but now that his trouble detectors were sending his brain urgent signals he reran her words in his head. "Nonsense," he said, "it's definitely 2013."

"Yeah? Well that fog out there says otherwise, buster. Unless you know something we don't."

"Actually," he replied, "there's an awful lot I know that you don't. For instance, I bet you didn't know that on the planet Carallashda IV, the Republic of Goronthon once spent a whole nine months in eclipse because of a weather control experiment that went wrong. And five years after that-"

"Doctor..."

The tone in Amy's voice cut him off mid-speech. A shame, really, as he had quite a few choice anecdotes lined up. He swung the main display monitor round to show her.

"There you are. See? 2013."

She looked at the figures and deflated. "Oh." The Doctor was just starting to feel a little smug when she frowned again. "Hold on, this says July 2013."

"Does it?" The Doctor leaned sideways so he could see the screen as well. His mouth twisted for a moment as he took it in. "Well, January, July, it's still the right year. I'm sure it doesn't make that much difference?" There was something about the date that was troubling him, but he couldn't quite catch the thought.

Amy had put her hands on her hips - never a good sign. She was rolling her eyes, too. "Noo, no difference at all. I'm sure we'll find plenty of January Sale bargains on flippin' American Independence Day!" The last four words were shouted.

Independence Day. That was what Ace had said last year, all those lives ago. And now it was the fourth of July, 2013. As if on cue, the cloister bell began to ring. "No, no, no!" He turned his face towards the door; Rory wasn't visible. "Rory! We have to leave, now!"

"Doctor...?" Amy's voice was full of concern as she put a hand on his arm, but she snatched it away again almost immediately and sprinted for the doors, now swinging shut. A shadowy shape was visible through the crack as they slammed together. "Rory!"

The time rotor began its slow motion once more as the noise of the great engines filled the space inside the console room. Amy turned a despairing face to the Doctor; he had no words for her.

Soon - sooner than either of them expected - the sound ceased. Amy spoke at last, her voice controlled, only the slightest tremor hinting at the desperation he knew she must be feeling. "You've got to take me back, Doctor. Now. I am not leaving him behind again."

The Doctor was checking the readouts. "I know. But according to this, we haven't moved. We're occupying the same space-time coordinates we left a few moments ago."

"Then get these doors open."

"Amy, I think there's something more going on..."

"Open these doors now, Doctor!"

He sighed, and pushed the switch. Amy looked out across a gleaming cityscape on a bright summer's day. The roof of Buckingham Palace was just visible between two smooth, tall spires; flying cars streamed across the pale blue sky.

Short Trips: 2013

This is a fanfic project that won't actually be finished this year (if at all), but it has to start today (again, if at all) for reasons that some readers may figure out from the prologue. If you don't - and it does rely on one obscure reference - it will eventually come clear.

I've not yet decided whether to write everything myself or open it up to others. I'll make that decision before November.

I will prefix all the posts with Short Trips: 2013, so that it doesn't get confused with my ongoing Hartnell marathon.


Next up: the prologue!