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The Forgotten Army
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Published in 2010 by BBC Books, an imprint o f Ebury P ublishing.
A Rando m House Gro up Co mpany
Copyright © Brian M inchin 2010
David Llewellyn has asserted his right to be identified as the author o f this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Doctor Who is a BBC Wales production for BBC One Executive producers: Steven Moffat, P iers Wenger and Beth W illis BBC, DOCTOR WHO and TARDIS (word marks, lo gos and devices) are trademarks o f the British Broadcasting Corporatio n and are used under licence.
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ISBN 978 1 846 07987 0
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To Robert
Sam Horwitz had never felt so excited. The Grand Hall of the Ne w York Natural History Museum was packed with hundreds of people, all clutching invitations to 'See the New Wonder of the World'. In exactly two minutes, Sam was going to step out and show them his amazing discovery.
Sam fidgeted with his new white blazer. He'd never worn anything so bold before, but for this, the biggest day of his life, he wanted to impress. He had worked alone throughout the night to get the mysterious exhibit ready, and only he and the Director of the Museum knew what was hidden behind the thick velvet drapes.
Looking around the room, he felt dizzy with adrenalin. There were massed rows of schoolchildren
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and their grumpy teachers, bearded archaeologists, twitchy photographers, and the great and good of New York. He saw his friend Polly Vernon give him a little wave from the middle of the crowd. Polly was a teacher at a New York elementary school and had brought all of her class to cheer him on. He smiled nervously as she mouthed an encouraging 'good luck'. At the front, jostling for position, all the major TV stations were preparing to broadcast the first pictures live to the world. Sam knew they weren't going to be disappointed.
The Director of the Museum finished her introduction and called on Sam to take the stand. Sam took a deep breath.
Everything was about to change. He was about to become famous.
He strode across the Grand Hall to loud applause and stood blinking as camera lights flashed. The news crews signalled to each other: they were going live. Sam knew this was his big moment. All around the world, millions of people would be watching. Sam felt happier than he'd ever been. Those long weeks digging in the icy wastes of Svalbard had been worth it.
Sam stepped up to the podium, trying hard not to fiddle with his jacket buttons. He'd rehearsed this moment over and over again: a short thank you, a joke to show to everyone he was a down-to-earth kind of guy, then he'd pull the cord and bask in their applause.
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He reached the microphone, shuffled his papers and began to speak. 'Thank you, everyone, for coming. Today our ideas of the past are about to change for ever. We've had plenty of big displays in this Museum, but I can promise you, this is our most mammoth yet!'
Sam pulled the golden cord, and the velvet drapes dropped aside to reveal the world's only Polar Woolly Mammoth. It was one of the most majestic creatures ever to grace the Grand Hall.
Standing four metres tall, the mammoth looked wild, with rippling white fur and long tusks. Yet it was also strangely graceful, like a thoroughbred horse, ready to spring from the traps.
Sam knew that no one could fail to be impressed by its grandeur and size. It was as if the forces of evolution had sought to create in the Polar Woolly Mammoth the largest and most beautiful creature ever. But there were no gasps of awe -
the crowd had fallen silent. They were stunned and shocked, not delighted. Something was wrong. Sam started to feel sick in his stomach, like the day before a big exam. He turned to follow the anxious gaze of his audience.
The Polar Woolly Mammoth had been extinct for 10,000 years, and the body of this one had been lying under the ice cap for almost all that time. It now stood at the centre of the New York Natural History Museum, in a beautiful recreation of its original 9
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habitat. So Sam was as surprised as everyone else to see four fresh mammoth poos splatting onto the floor.
Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop.
One of the schoolchildren started to giggle, and a wave of laughter spread across the hall. Polly's class of kids were clapping with delight, loving the joke that they thought was being played on them.
The Director of the Museum turned to Sam with a face like thunder. 'Is this your idea of a practical joke?'
'N-no!' Sam stuttered. He was as surprised as everyone else. The mammoth was dead. He'd found it buried under a hundred metres of solid ice. It was so dead no one could even remember a time it had existed.
Then the mammoth let out an enormous roar, and the hall erupted into chaos and screams and scuffling feet. The largest mammoth ever discovered had come back to life. All around the Grand Hall, people were leaping from their seats and running to the back of the hall. The giggles had turned into tears. This was very real, very scary and very wrong. Sam could see the news crews broadcasting the pandemonium, jabbering excitedly as the cameras swung between the slowly waking mammoth and the stampede of people in the hall behind them.
Sam started to speak into the microphone. 'Please stay calm. This, er, isn't unusual - this room is very 10
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hot, and the mammoth has been frozen for quite some time...
We can put this down to environmental factors... gas being released... er... It's nothing to worry about at all...'
Nobody was listening. As the world watched live on television, the only known Polar Woolly Mammoth ripped its feet from the podium. Very much alive, and very annoyed at being tied down.
Clearly panicking that it was going to break out and run riot on the streets of New York, the Director of the Museum yelled,
'Close the doors!' Black-clad security guards slammed the heavy wooden doors of the New York Museum shut, large iron bolts barring the only way out of the building.
Stepping closer to Sam, the Director of the Museum whispered furiously in his ear: 'Find a way to stop this. And do it now!' She marched away.
Polly appeared at Sam's side and fixed him with
big trusting eyes. 'What should I do?'
Sam couldn't bear the look on her face. He had asked her to bring her students here, and now he'd let loose a prehistoric animal on them.
Behind him, the mammoth was stretching its enormous jaws, its long tusks scraping the floor of the Museum. It had been asleep for a long, long time. And now it was awake, and it was very, very angry. Its plate-sized eyes fixed on Sam, and it started to advance towards him.
Sam wanted desperately to stay calm. He wished 11
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he could find something reassuring to say. Instead, as the mammoth's heavy feet began to pound on the wooden floor, he turned to Polly and yelled, 'Run! Whatever it takes, get everyone out of here!'
12
Chapter
1
'New York, New York! Or is it New, New, New, New, New, New, New York?' The Doctor was turning in circles, rattling off words at a bewildering speed.
Amy looked at the Doctor as if he was mad. 'Hey, elbow-patches - look at the clock!'
Sure enough, right above them in Times Square, the date was beaming down for all to see.
The Doctor smiled. 'I got it right this time! Finally - 2010. Have I impressed you yet?'
Amy reckoned she had a pretty good line in rash and unpremeditated, but she'd found a real rival in the Doctor. She wasn't about to let him know it, though. 'Why New York? I thought we were going to the Moons of Poosh, or the Sapphire Beaches of Padparashan 2? I'm not missing X-Factor so much I 13
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need to stop by in 2010 and play catch-up.'
'Look around you, Amy. Isn't it glorious? Just smell the air! On second thoughts, forget the air, just look up.'
Above them, skyscrapers of all sorts and shapes thrust up into the sky, as if the city had been in far too much of a hurry to plan what it was doing. It had wanted to reach the top, and had done anything to get there.
The sun was almost blotted out by the buildings all around them, and it felt to Amy as if they were walking in a deep valley, thronging with noisy, busy, excited, people.
Everywhere she looked was a blaze of colour: yellow cabs beeping angrily, tourists posing for pictures, and lights blazing out of every display. Amy had never seen so many people in one place, or so much going on at one time. She was a long way from Leadworth and Mrs Poggitt whinging about her bad hip.
New York was all Amy had imagined and more. But Amy was used to getting people to do exactly what she wanted, whenever she wanted, and she didn't want the Doctor to think he could get away with bossing her around all over the universe, and springing surprises on her, even if they were nice ones. Part of Amy loved that the Doctor was a law unto himself. But the other part of Amy Pond saw a challenge. She knew he was harder to twist around her fingers than the other men in her life, but she
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wasn't about to give in to his bossiness just yet.
'So gimme, psychic paper, over here,' she told him. 'Two hours is all I need. I'm going to find out how much shopping we can fit into that TARDIS of yours.'
The Doctor moved in front of the police box doors, as if he was protecting them from her. 'I show you the wonders of time and space, and you want to buy them?' he asked, appalled.
Amy laughed. 'As if I'd be so boring! Whatever you want to do, for say, ten minutes, then my turn? Sound good to you?'
The Doctor didn't answer. His attention had been grabbed by the sights and sounds of Times Square.
Amy tried again to break in on his thoughts. 'So what have you got for me this time? Do you need us to sort out some Mafia deal? Problems with a gang of cowboys? Or a Wall Street billionaire that's really an alien? Actually, forget the others - let's focus on the Wall Street billionaire.'
The Doctor's thoughts were racing ahead. 'New York. It's the sort of place that things happen, always worth checking up on New York, make sure no one's flying around in gravity bubbles a few years early. I like to keep track of it, especially now I'm looking all fresh and new. And don't look at my bow tie like that, Pond. Bow ties are cool. Anyway, always good to make sure there's no cracks in it.'
While Amy tried to work out if it was cracks 15
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in New York or cracks in his bow ties that were worrying him, the Doctor flicked his gaze from the city to his sonic screwdriver, which was flashing a light he'd never seen before. Excited, he turned his attention to Amy. 'Just look at that! Now, this is very important. There's a museum in the 175th century I need to show you, but the canteen is rubbish: they only eat boiled Jericoacoara beans. Don't ask me why; it's a religious thing. Anyway, you deserve the best the universe has to offer - and it's here!'
He held his sonic screwdriver up to Amy, so she could see the row of flashing lights.
'Do I look like a dolphin?' Amy demanded. 'What does that mean for those of us that can't decipher sonic technology?'
The Doctor grinned. 'It means I was right!' He spun on the spot, scanning Times Square with the sonic screwdriver.
'There's a place I've always wanted to go, dreamed of it, hoped for it, but I've been constantly disappointed, always losing track. I've leapt through constellations and danced around black holes just to get the name of this place. And it's been here all along! Don't you just love New York? You never know what you're going to find!'
Amy held up her hand. 'Whoa there! What are you talking about?'
'I've just picked up a very special signal,' the Doctor explained. He twirled his sonic screwdriver in his hand. 'And what it confirms is that there's
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a restaurant here that will one day be the most famous in all of the galaxy. In the 208th century, people are so obsessed with it they travel back through time from all over the galaxy to eat there. Well, I say people... Anything with less than four stomachs travels to eat here at least once a lifetime. It's renowned as the best meal you will ever have. Will have had.
Had ever having. Sorry, time travel tenses, they're very confusing. Just stick with me. This is the most famous food in the galaxy and people spend a lifetime of savings to make the trip. And we've landed in the perfect vintage. The Ood Food Guide gave June 2010 a whole solar system of awards. Good old TARDIS!'
The Doctor patted the side of the police box and clicked his fingers. With barely a whirr, the TARDIS faded from sight.
The Doctor saw Amy's expression and quickly reassured her. 'I've just left it a few seconds ahead of us. I'll get it back when it's time to leave. No point confusing people.'
Amy couldn't help but be caught up in the Doctor's enthusiasm. 'So is this what we do then? Sometimes we save the world; other times we're like space tourists.'
'Yep. But we're the best sort. We don't, you know, stay up all night and go starting fights. Actually, who am I kidding, we're the worst sort...' Marching off, the Doctor led Amy into a busy side street. 'And just
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look at the queue. Barely a human amongst them.'
Sure enough, the anonymous alley was packed with very strangely shaped people.
'Are they really aliens? In the middle of New York?' Amy asked. 'They just look sort o f . . . American to me.'
The Doctor nodded. 'It's not a problem, they're very well behaved. Not like the French. Look, no pushing at all.' As they walked along the queue, he started pointing out individuals.
'Now, the one in the trench coat is a Judoon. The one that looks like three people standing on top of each other is a Graske. The girl in the shades and the hairy chin? Cat person! Very naughty coming here, but, hey -when the food is this good, you can't blame her, can you?'
Amy joined in. 'My turn! Look, that hideous man there, kind of horrible droopy face and weirdy eyes, that's got to be something - maybe a mutant from Mars. Or you know, a giant space slug or something?'
'Shh!' The Doctor leaned in close to Amy. "That's Kenny, nice guy, works in the Post Office. Don't worry, I'm s
ure he gets compared to aliens all the time!'
They followed the queue down the alley and turned into a big open courtyard. The Doctor stopped. 'Smell that, Amy!'
The food smelt like crisp onions, frying chips 18
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and sizzling meat.
'This is the holy grail of food! I never quite thought it would happen, but now here we are!'
As the assorted people stood aside, Amy could see where they were heading. She was expecting to see something like the Ritz, all marble and glitz. Instead, the Doctor was heading for a battered old trolley, where a weary-looking man was flipping burgers behind a row of brightly coloured sauces. Pinned behind him was a giant sign: 'Big Paulie's Sausages'.
Amy was confused. 'Why's it say sausages? He's selling burgers!'
The Doctor was too excited to answer. 'Oh, isn't this just brilliant! Look at everyone here! All so happy.'
He pointed at a large table of what looked like seagulls in duffel coats. 'Where they come from, they've been at war for five hundred years, but they're barely waving a fork at each other here. If one thing is going to save the universe, it's one of Big Paulie's Sausage-Burgers.'
Sitting on tables laid out on the sidewalk, the disguised aliens sighed with pleasure as they tasted the famous burgers. At one table, a family of Haemo-Goths spat into the air as a sign of their appreciation, long tongues flickering in and out.
"They have a restaurant in the Luxury Zone of the Ruby Solar System where they cook everything 19
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in liquid nitrogen. When you put it in your mouth it foams right up inside your nose. Smells delicious. Tastes a bit like bogies. But never mind that. This is all about The Burgers! Do you ever get that feeling where you'd do anything for a burger? And right here, right now is the very best place in history to get a burger. Of course there's a twelve-year waiting list, just to eat one. But I have come prepared.'