***

The hooded man shot an angry glance back at the woman suspended in the apparatus above him. "Come on, come on," he muttered. He tweaked a control. The woman shivered with pain but remained stubbornly silent. The man looked back at the big monitor screen in front of him. A picture started to form. He leaned forward.

"Yes, that's it! Come on, a little more ..." He gave the control another tweak.

The woman went rigid with agony and finally she screamed.

***

The old man snapped his eyes open. Something wasn't right. He could feel hard ground beneath him instead of the softness of a bed. He sat up. His vision was obscured by a damp green mist and he flapped his handkerchief at it in an attempt to clear it. No good. He stood up, sniffing the air. It all seemed very real, yet something inside him told him he was still asleep. A dream? A most realistic one if it was. His eyes narrowed at the possibility of what it might be.

His head snapped round at the sound of the cry. Somewhere to his left ... he stumbled through the gloom over the rocky surface.

"Help! Help! Oh my word!"

At the bottom of a steep rise the old man could make out a figure struggling in a grey bog. He was sinking slowly and having no success in freeing himself. The old man scrambled down as close as he could get and extended a hand.

"Here! Try and grab hold!"

But the man couldn't quite reach. He had a long, almost comical face and a mop of dark hair. "Don't get too close or you'll end up in here too!"

"Hang on! I'm coming!" Another voice drifted from above and a figure bounded down the slope to join them. The old man's eyes narrowed in recognition. The newcomer was tall and lean with a shock of white hair, and he wore a flamboyant green velvet jacket. He looked surprised as well.

"Jehosophat! What are you doing here?" He looked at the man in the bog as well. "And you!"

The old man poked his arm irritably. "Never mind the fond reunion - let's get him out of that!"

"Can't reach - we'll need a rope!"

Something sailed past their heads and landed close by the struggling man. "Will my scarf do?" boomed a deep voice. They looked round to see a tall curly haired man grinning from ear to ear.

"You as well?"

"And me!" A younger blond haired man in an old fashioned cricketer's outfit joined the curly haired man in attempting to pull the little man out. "Come on, lend a hand!"

Between them they managed to pull him out. "What on earth were you doing in there?" gasped the white haired man as they struggled back up the incline.

"Trying to get out!" snapped the smaller man irritably, wiping muck from his baggy clothing.

"Arguing as usual, I see!" A big curly-haired man in a multi-coloured coat loomed out of the mist.

"You too, eh?"

"Apparently. But the question should be ..."

"Why?" Another figure, small and rumpled with a straw hat and a question mark umbrella.

"Good question!" This from a handsome young man with a long main of brown hair.

"Good heavens! How many more of us?"

"Room for another?" A dark haired man ambled, hands in pockets from the fog, a pleasant smile across his humorous, almost rubbery features.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

They all craned their necks up to look at the dark robed figure glowering down at them. The man with the multi-coloured coat and the one with the umbrella drew closer together. "The Valeyard!" they exclaimed in unison. The young brown-haired man stepped forward.

"I might have guessed you'd be behind this!"

"It is nothing to do with me! I rather assumed this was your work, Doctor - Doctors!"

"More likely it's the work of the High Council!"

A tall bald man strode from the mist. The little man stopped wiping at his clothing and whispered to the one with the scarf: "Do you know him?"

"Haven't a clue. Although to be honest, I don't know half the people here."

The cricketer turned round. "I thought it would have been obvious even to you ... they're all me! I mean us!"

"No, if it were the High Council, wouldn't they have sent someone to meet me - us?" This from a fat man who picked his way carefully along the slope and beamed benignly at the assembly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor, of course."

"I'm the Doctor!" A tall muscular black man with an American accent appeared.

"And me!" They all gaped at an middle-aged grey-haired woman.

"Impossible! You're a ..."

"Woman? And I have been for a while!" another, older, slightly larger woman cackled. From all around, figures began appearing from the fog, young and old, male and female, light and dark, all saying the same thing ...

"I am the Doctor! I am the Doctor! I am the Doctor!"

The grandfather woke with a start. Someone was tugging at his arm.

"Grandfather, wake up! Grandfather!"

His eyes focused on the small figure leaning over him.

"Susan? Oh dear, what's the matter?" Behind her, Barbara and her husband Ian crowded the doorway, concern on their faces.

"You were shouting in your sleep, grandfather! Were you having a nightmare?"

He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know ... yes, you know I think I was!"

"It must have been terrible!" said Barbara.

"Oh it was, dear me yes ... I dreamt I was stranded on an alien planet, surrounded by people who all said they were me. And they kept appearing from this mist ... all saying they were the Doctor, over and over ..." he gazed into the distance, his voice trailing away. His reverie was broken only when Ian kicked his walking stick over as he stepped further into the room.

"Ow! Well ... er, do you want anything to help you get back to sleep?" he asked, hopping up and down on one leg rubbing his toe.

"No, no ... I shall be all right. I'm sorry for waking you ... go back to bed. See you in the morning."

Barbara and Ian bade him goodnight and retired. Susan hesitated.

"Are you sure you're all right, Grandfather?"

"Positive, Susie dear. Go back to bed."

Her eyes lighted on the stocking lying on his dresser. "Father Christmas hasn't been yet," she said slowly. The Grandfather noticed the direction of her gaze and cleared his throat, embarrassed.

"Well, I'm sure he'll turn up soon ... don't worry. Now, off you go. Goodnight!"

His grand-daughter left, a little sadly, he thought. He hoped he hadn't spoilt things ... He laid back and drifted off again, when a voice crept slowly into his consciousness.

"Help us ... help us!"

He sat bolt upright. The woman's voice was clear but very distant.

"Who are you? Where are you?"

She gasped, agonised. "No time to explain ... can't stay long ... power too much. Please, please help us! You're our only hope ... our only hope!"

"Where? Where do you want me to go?" he cried, jumping out of bed and reaching for his clothes.

"Follow these co-ordinates ... and please hurry!"

***

The hooded man rubbed his hands together as he studied the monitor screen. "Excellent ... it's all going exactly to plan." He turned to face the woman, a huge smile across his face. "And all thanks to you, my dear!" He frowned. "You're very quiet ... what are you up to?"

She opened one eye and managed a weak smile. "You'll find out," she croaked.

"Oh really? Well, if you think there's anything you can do to stop me now, you're sadly mistaken. Look!" He pointed at the screen. "Every single incarnation of the Doctor that has ever existed. Every alternative version of each of his twelve different incarnations ... all caught in my own little plan!" He chuckled evilly and patted the woman's cheek. "And you, the thirteenth incarnation ... the icing on my cake. I get to deal with you personally." He turned back to the screen again. "But not just yet, I think ... Doctor, Doctor, how many different versions of you are there?"

"More than you realise, I think!"

The hooded man spun at the sound of the voice. "Who ... who are you? How did you get here?" He scrabbled under his cloak for his weapon. A tall figure stepped from the shadows.

"I am Doctor Who ... and I'm here to stop your little game!"

"Doctor Who? Pah!" The hooded man circled the man warily, covering him with a pistol. He looked him up and down, almost seeming to sniff the air as he did so. "You're not a Time Lord! You're a human! A common or garden Terran ... come on, who are you really?"

The man turned to the monitor screen and pointed. "Seems I have rather a lot in common with those people on your television set there ... and that poor girl up there. Release her at once!"

"Ha! I don't think so ... Doctor Who-ever! I'm not finished yet!"

"Oh? And what exactly are you trying to finish?"

"Very well ... I'll tell you!" He whipped back his hood. If he was expecting a dramatic reaction from either the man or the woman, he was sadly disappointed. It revealed the features of a plain middle-aged man, with thinning dark grey hair and piggy little eyes that glowed maliciously in the half light of the chamber.

"Do you know him?" the man called to the woman.

"No ... never seen him before ..." Something moved in the shadows behind her. She tried not to react as she felt hands working on her bonds behind her.

"You damn well should! I'm your replacement!" he spluttered.

"My what?" she croaked.

"Owis! I'm Owis!"

"Owis? Oh ... Cousin Owis! I remember now ..." A long time ago, it seemed, the Doctor had briefly returned to his - her - ancestral home, and discovered that the ancient loom of Lungbarrow had mistakenly produced a replacement in his - her - absence. With drastic consequences ...

"Yes ... oh yes. You remember now! Well, I'll be remembered long after this ... I am your replacement, and that's how it's going to be!"

"What do you mean?" asked the old man. The woman shook her head.

"I'll explain later ... but I think my dear cousin here has some rather nasty ambitions ..."

"That's right! Do you know how long I've suffered the stigma of being an outcast on Gallifrey? Among my own family even? Owis the Odd, they call me. For centuries I've suffered ... then I happened across all this ..." and he gestured around the chamber. "Wonderful technology from the Old Time ... and I applied my mind to repairing it, exactly for this purpose!"

"Which is?"

Owis puffed his chest out. "To totally remove the Doctor - in all his guises - from the Time Streams, and replace them with myself!"

"You're totally mad! Consider the implications, man!"

"Oh but I have!" He pointed to an archway across the room. "That leads into the Vortex. Once all the Doctors are assembled, I shall erase the part of the Matrix I am keeping them in, and at that exact moment propel myself across the Time Streams and take their places across all eternity!" He held his arms high in triumph. "No more Doctor ... now I, Owis, shall be the Universe's saviour, and be loved and revered throughout all eternity!"

Something clattered to the ground and he looked round from his dreams of glory to see a small child working frantically at the Doctor's bonds. "No!" he howled, bringing his weapon to bear. Doctor Who leapt at him, grappling with his gun arm.

"Hurry Susie!"

Susan struggled frantically with the bolts securing the cuffs. They were solid. The woman was shaking her head.

"Never mind them - the Artron energy damper unit over there! Switch it off!"

Susan dashed for the control panel. The multi-coloured switches and dials swam before her eyes. "Which one?"

"The big red orb on the left! Break it!"

"No!" Owis flung Doctor Who aside and fired. The blast passed narrowly over Susan's head as she hammered at the unyielding plastic. In desperation she tore off her shoe and smashed it down as hard as she could.

Owis kicked Doctor Who aside again and took more careful aim. He fired. The little figure twisted and fell. Doctor Who's yell of horror drowned out the crash of breaking plastic as the orb shattered ...

... and suddenly the room was full of people. Owis shrieked.

"Good heavens, where are we now?" asked the white haired man in green velvet.

"Never mind that now! Get shorty!" yelled the woman.

From all sides the Doctors pressed upon the horrified Owis. The pistol slipped from his grasp as he pressed his fingers to his head. His worst nightmare had come to life.

"Kill him!" snarled the Valeyard.

"Steady on!" yelled the cricketer.

"At least thump him, someone!" shouted one of the women Doctors.

"Leave it to me!" shouted one of the older Doctors, and performed a spectacular pratfall by mistake.

Owis ducked through them and leapt through the archway. He vanished with a despairing howl ...

The Doctors crowded round.

"Oh dear, vanishing into the vortex like that without a destination won't do him any good."

"Serves him right."

"The conceit. Trying to replace me!"

"Us, I think you mean."

"Well I felt sorry for him."

"You're havin' a larf, ain't you?"

"Come on, we all know what it's like to be an outcast, alone and unloved ..."

"Ah, cry me a river."

"Doctors, please! We have some wounded people here!"

The woman was lifted from her shackles but waved her helpers away. "Never mind me, what about the little girl? She and her grandfather are the ones who saved us!"

Doctor Who cradled the girl in his arms and looked up at the sea of faces, tears glistening on his cheeks ...

***

Voices murmured in her head, as if from far, far away. She had an impression of being lifted in strong arms. Faces blurred before her. Her grandfather's voice, trembling with concern:

"You can help her, you say?"

"Don't worry, I'm a Doctor ..."

"Ha ha ..."

A cool hand on her brow. "Poor little poppet ... how could anyone shoot a child?"

"I think she'll be all right ... where's the infirmary in this place?"

"Down there and to the left."

"Don't you mean to the right?"

Later. She was lying on something very soft and warm. A pleasant hum filled her ears.

" ... So this is all a dream, right? We'll wake up soon and be gone ..."

"Well, sort of. That Artron energy booster of Owis' tapped into my mind, drawing the psychic projections of yourselves into his corner of the Matrix while you slept or were unconscious."

"Can't tell the difference with some of us!"

"Hush, you! And he wanted to destroy us? Was that possible?"

"Psychic assassination was one of Rassilon's favourites, wasn't it?"

"Rassilon, Rassilon, Rassilon! One of these days I'm going to go back and teach him a lesson ..."

Still later. The pain in her side had dulled to a throb. There seemed to be fewer voices than before.

" ... Contacted the High Council and they'll clear up the pieces. The CIA have an APB out on Owis, but I think we've seen the last of him."

"If he's anything like the rest of our family, I doubt it! Do you remember ..."

"Shhhh!"

"Hey, I think I'm waking up! Well, nice meeting you all. Just a dream, right?"

"Just a dream!"

Just a dream ... just a dream ...

"Susan? Susie dear ..."

She opened her eyes. Daylight streamed in through her bedroom window. Grandfather, Barbara and Ian crowded into her room, all smiling paternally.

"My, I thought you were never going to wake! Happy Christmas!"

She looked at her clock. Nine-fifteen! She'd never slept this late before on Christmas Day. She jumped out of bed, wincing slightly at a pain in her side. Her grandfather frowned.

"Are you all right, Susie dear?"

"Yes, I think so ... I must have slept awkward." She paused. "You know, I had the funniest dream ..."

"So did I ... do you remember much of yours? I can't ..."

For an instant, Susan remembered a vast echoing chamber, and a shrieking little man with a gun, and lots of other people with funny clothes ... then the image was gone. She shook her head. Doctor Who's face relaxed, unseen by the others.

"No, not really ... oh dear."

"What is it?" Barbara asked.

"Looks like Santa has forgotten me ..." She looked forlornly at the empty stocking hanging from her bedpost, then at her Grandfather. Had he forgotten?

To her surprise, he was smiling. He tapped his nose. "I heard sleigh bells last night... coming from somewhere in the direction of TARDIS. Shall we go and see?"

They all went outside. Doctor Who swung open the door to his time machine and they crowded into the doorway. They gasped, Susan loudest of all. Presents filled the room, all shapes and sizes. She picked one up and looked at the label.

"To our saviour with grateful thanks. Happy Christmas and many, many more!"

"What does that mean? Grandfather, who are these really from?"

He grinned and cast a sideways glance at the square imprint fading slowly on the frosty grass nearby.

"Who indeed, Susan dear ... Who indeed!"