In Doctor Who: Deep Time, the Doctor and Clara travel far into the future to join the team who discovered the location of the last Phaeron road in the universe, left behind by an ancient race that disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Attempting to decipher the relics left behind by the Phaeron, the team tries to determine what happened: were they eradicated by a superior force? Did they destroy themselves? Only the Doctor knows the truth behind the disappearance of the Phaeron, and this terrible secret haunts him once again.
Author Trevor Baxendale has written both Doctor Who and Torchwood novels for BBC Books, including Eater of Wasps, The Undertaker’s Gift, and the award-winning Prisoner of the Daleks. His novel Fear of the Dark was reprinted in 2013 as part of Doctor Who’s fiftieth anniversary celebrations. Deep Time is his tenth novel.
After the jump check out an excerpt of Doctor Who: Deep Time available now!
Beyond the Alexandria was a brilliant star field streaked with the scarlet blaze of an ancient supernova. And beyond that, the edge of the galaxy. Beyond that… the unknown.
Balfour trembled with excitement.‘Excuse me, sir,’ said a large, angular service robot politely. It towered over Balfour, even when bowing respectfully.
‘What is it, Trugg?’
‘The research team are all assembled, sir. The ship is ready for departure.’
Balfour nodded. ‘I know, Trugg. I know. I just want to savour the moment.’
Trugg straightened patiently. ‘Very good, sir.’
Balfour stood and drank in the sight before him, allowing his eyes to roam the long, amber lines and smooth golden hull. ‘Tell me, Trugg. When you look at the Alexandria – what do you see?’
‘A spacecraft, sir.’
‘Do you know what I see?’
‘A spacecraft, sir?’
‘I see adventure!’
‘Very good sir,’ Trugg replied. ‘May I suggest that we join the boarding party? Professor Vent is very keen to leave.’
***‘You’re late,’ said Professor Tabitha Vent. ‘We were due to leave an hour ago.’
Raymond Balfour strolled up the Alexandria’s boarding ramp wearing his billionaire’s smile. ‘Relax, Professor! Or may I call you Tabitha?’
‘Nearly everyone calls me Tibby, as a matter of fact,’ she replied. ‘Seems like less of a mouthful.’ She was as tall as Balfour, and around the same age, perhaps a little older. It was hard to tell, because Balfour was rich enough to afford all the latest rejuvenation techniques. Tibby guessed he probably had shares in Spectrox, but then she wasn’t feeling in a very generous mood. She was suddenly conscious of wearing week-old space fatigues with her hair tied up in a rough ponytail. She had come straight from a dig on Ursa Minor. Balfour looked like he’d come straight from the salon.
Balfour waved cheerfully at the small group of researchers and scientists standing behind Tibby. ‘Hello there. Everyone ready?’
Everyone said they were.
‘You were supposed to be here an hour ago,’ said Tibby. Although she was nominally at the head of the research team, she hardly knew some of the people standing behind her. Nevertheless she felt compelled to speak for them all. ‘My team have been kept waiting. The crew have been kept waiting. I’ve been kept waiting!’
Balfour smiled the smile of a man for whom timekeeping and schedules had never meant much, if anything.
His large servitor robot clambered up the spaceship boarding ramp and stooped to pass through the airlock. The robot was carrying a lot of expensive luggage.
‘Take that straight through to my cabin, Trugg,’ said Balfour.
‘Very good, sir,’ answered the robot, lumbering slowly forward. ‘Excuse me, madam.’
Tibby was forced to move out of the robot’s way. ‘Is there really any need for all that luggage?’ she sighed. ‘We’re supposed to be travelling light. This is a scientific expedition, not a holiday.’
‘I’m well aware of that, Professor. I am paying for the expedition, after all.’
Balfour was smiling, but Tibby got the point. ‘Yes, well, of course we all owe a great deal to you, Mr Balfour. It’s just that we’ve been waiting such a long time to mount an expedition like this and we’re impatient to begin.’
‘There’s really no need to worry,’ Balfour said. ‘I spoke to the spaceport master. He agreed to give us a little longer in dock before we have to leave.’
‘My research team are all here. You are here. The crew is on board and the ship is ready to leave. Must we delay any longer?’
Balfour glanced back down the Alexandria’s boarding ramp as if he was expecting someone else to walk in at any moment. ‘Just a minute or two more, if you please. I’m waiting for the last members of our team to arrive.’
‘The team is here!’ Tibby said, exasperated. ‘There is no one else!’
At that moment two people came hurrying up the boarding ramp and burst onto the deck.
‘Sorry we’re late!’ said a very pretty young woman as she came to a halt. She was a little out of breath, as if she had been running.
‘Who the devil are you?’
‘I’m Clara,’ the woman said. ‘And this is the Doctor.’
A very tall, rather gaunt man with an unruly shock of grey hair stepped forward. ‘Right,’ he said, his piercingly cold eyes sweeping around the cabin. ‘Now I’m here we can begin. I do hope you’re all ready to be terrified!’
