If you would like a link to your
website from inferno-fiction.co.uk
then please contact us via email at:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
Home      Inferno Fiction nine      doomsday
Add to Favorite

 
anging moodily over the main console, Turlough unconsciously fiddled with his tie and rubbed a hand through his close cropped auburn hair. Humming out of tune he seemed mesmerised by the winking lights and multi-function uni-stabilisers. He glanced to his left, unmoved by the quiet efficiency of the TARDIS and noticed the visi-screen holding a mute conversation with the rest of the circuitry littering the craft. Unrelenting figures toiled a mournful path across its blinking screen; looking out on the world as if begging for someone to watch it.

Turlough did.

Suddenly the abstract symbols were erased from the screen to be replaced by a chattering array of letters, racing backwards and forwards, each line trying to out run the other. Then it happened, the TARDIS lurched from side to side, the main time rotor juddered, screeching its protests unseen antagonists.

Turlough was flung in a highly undignified manner, across to the main doors where he scrambled desperately, like a spider on the side of a bath, for a handhold. Almost immediately the console room steadied out. The TARDIS had retained its balance.

A very concerned Time Lord launched himself at the console a few seconds later, and with a flurry of hands deactivated, activated various functions before fixing the alien youth with a steely stare. Face grim, the Doctor spoke: 'You didn't touch anything, did you?'

Numbly, Turlough shook his head and began to recite utter gibberish as a means of asserting his innocence. Babblings the Doctor chose to ignore, until the youth asked tactfully, 'What's wrong?'

'Something or someone has, or did, take control of the TARDIS for at least a minute. To use that amount of energy they must be desperate.'

Turlough sneered. 'And just how do you know they're desperate?'
 
 
 
The Doctor beamed and replied, 'Because they have just activated a system called co-ordinate override. We are now on a locked and fixed course to wherever they want us.' His brow creased; the Doctor thoughtfully studied other readouts, his face grew graver and graver. 'Oh dear...oh dear, dear, dear. Someone is making holes, very big holes at that, in the Temporal Vortex.'

'What? What does that mean?' asked Turlough, puzzled by the Doctor's cryptic exhortations.

'Doomsday!' summed up the Time Lord in one chilling word.

~~~~~
 
cross the Time Lines, at the very epicenter of time itself, sat the Lords of Time; Lords of Space and Lords of Eternity. Lords upon Lords were assembled within the confines of one singularly important and, dependant on which view point was taken, insignificant planet. They had come from all time and space, and all planets from within the infinite universe; together in a common bond to share and experience each other’s knowledge. With all the most brilliant creatures in the universe here, a solution could be found, or could it?

The planet was Gallifrey. The location was the Capitol. The time, immaterial. The function: to discuss a threat that touched all creation and dirtied it with its foulness. To isolate and eliminate that threat. Only one problem existed - the threat came from within and outside time itself. The threat could not be traced to anywhere; it kept moving, always covering its tracks but leaving behind it the most destructive force known to the entire universe - Time. Time was of the essence and time is not what the Lords had.
 
Time was running out everywhere and once it stopped flowing the dissolution would follow and that would be the end of everyone’s troubles, forever or never, for they had no time and could not say whether it had happened once or even twice...?

The Capitol, heart of the Time Lords was little more than a debating chamber at this moment. They had sworn never to interfere and they still held to this policy.

The Lord of Mortality took the stand in the centre of the Panopticon. The echoes of discontent were quickly stifled, because every Lord realised they had little time to argue.

'My Lords and Ladies. I, as representative of the race known as Mortals, am not one to speak of such concepts as Time because we have little time ourselves to live. Our life spans are short in most of your terms, sometimes we go past a century but...still, I will press on.' Abruptly he was cut short by a chuckle.
 
'About time too!' screeched a voice mockingly, nudging his companion, also a Lord of Eternity. They had very little respect for mortals.
 
 
 
Welcome to inferno-fiction.co.uk.
 
Inferno Fiction is an on-line Doctor Who Fiction Fanzine. First created in the 80's when fanzines were the norm, the fanzine has now lept onto the world wide web and is enjoyed by many across the world!
 
The stories featured are from the original pages of the printed fanzine and now include a collection of new material never printed or seen anywhere before.
If you would like to contribute then please email them to: infernofiction@ntlworld.com

 
    
 
 
 
This site is best viewed in
Firefox, Chrome or Safari
 

ISSUE ELEVEN

by thebunnyinthetardis
 
by Jonathan Whitelaw
 
by Shams Uddin
 
 coming soon SETTING STONES
by Alasdair I. Shaw
 
 coming soon PRICELESS JUNK
by Stellar Explorer
 
coming soon THE CULT OF VARTAX
by Will Barber
 
ISSUE TEN
 
by Colin John
 
by Darren Field
 
by Huw Llewellyn-Davies
 
by Nathan Mullins
 
by Martin Day

ISSUE NINE

by David Hankinson
 
by Ian McPherson
 
by Colin John
 
by Darren Field
 
by Michael Stevens
 
by Nathan Mullins

ISSUE EIGHT

by Simon Cogan
 
by Neil Hunter
 
by Nathan Mullins
 
by Robert Hammond
 
by Huw Llewellyn Davies
 
by Colin John

ISSUE SEVEN

by Simon Cogan
 
by Darren Field
 
by Stephen Lyons
 
by Robert Hammond
 
by James D. Quinton
 
by Neil Hunter

ISSUE SIX

by Robert Hammond
 
by Darren Field
 
by Neil Hunter
 
by Darren Field
 
by Colin John

ISSUE FIVE

by Martin Day
 
by Darren Field
 
by Ian McPherson
 
by Colin John
 
by Robert hammond
 
by Stuart Brown

ISSUE FOUR

by David Agnew
 
by Stuart Brown
 
by Ian McPherson
 
by Darren Hitchings
 
by Robert Hammond
 
by Ian McPherson

ISSUE THREE

by Ian McPherson
 
by Stephen J Thomas
 
by Colin John
 
by Chris Orton
 
by Andrew Lane
 
by Ian McPherson
 
by Robert Hammond

ISSUE TWO

by Chris Orton
 
by Robert Hammond
 
by Colin John
 
by James Watts
 
by Ian McPherson

ISSUE ONE

by Francis Cave
 
by Ian McPherson
 
by Colin John
 
by Ian McPherson
 
 
 
 

 
Inferno Fiction and Inferno Productions are copyright to Colin-John Rodgers 2012.
All written material and artwork is copyright to their respective authors, artists and to Inferno Productions 2012.
Inferno Fiction and Inferno Productions are non-profit making projects.
Doctor Who is copyright to the BBC. No infringement intended.