I spent six months in prison.
For some reason the fact that the Doctor has seemingly forgotten she'd been in the same predicament as him, hurt a lot more than she would ever let on. Sure, Canassis Manor had been its own form of imprisonment but there had been freedom to roam around in its many rooms. That boat... A tidal wave of mixed emotions got pushed back by sheer will power. Instead of focusing on it, Ophelia kept thinking about how funny those flats felt when walking on gravel. Funnier than doing so was how utterly out of place her outfit looked in this secret headquarter. Possibly a railway carriage in a siding, the Doctor's deprogrammed guards were kind enough to not say anything about the girl dressed for a formal party.
"What did she say?" Nardole rose to welcome them back.
"Nothing." The Doctor angrily walked past him.
"There is a way to defeat them." Ophelia stopped his steps once they reached the carriage's end.
He had expected challenge from anyone but her given their historic of agreement on nearly everything, even Harry Potter fan theories. But something had changed, somehow this new version of his dearest companion saw it fit to question his authority.
"There isn't." Both had gone through their own versions of the confession dial, coming out victorious. Her will won just because it unsettled him to see her mouth set instead of slightly smiling, eyes hardened. "Well, there is, but not that."
"Come on, you knew she was going to say something like this." Bill stepped closer between them, sure that whatever was going on would work itself out somehow. It had to because these were the Doctor and Ophelia Watson. "It's why you needed me back. You could have escaped from that ship. You could have started something to defeat the Monks without me."
Apparently they had both underestimated just how she'd grown as well. The girl had always been clever but now every ounce of self doubt had vanished, no sirs uttered.
"I wanted you back by my side because it's the safest place in the world." He told both of them in earnest which earned back a scoff and a grin of amusement.
How ironical it was to be safe besides an oncoming storm.
"Can someone...?" Nardole finally spoke, lost amidst their tense interactions. "What did she say?"
"She said it's me." Bill's guilt, because that's what it was, made her best friend give a gentle squeeze to her left forearm. "I asked the Monks for help and started all of this, so I have to be the one to finish it. The only downside is, if that's what we do, well, it's not worth me starting any long books."
Even if she was guilty as charged, no one was rushing to go with Missy's plan.
"Okay, well, er, let's er put a pin in it for now, as they say, and, er, see if we can think of something else." His stuttering didn't help the tense atmosphere.
Ophelia wondered if going through life normally would make it easier to deal with feelings. At a normal pace, people went through several situations that helped them know themselves better and how to deal with their inner workings. All she'd had were the same fifty one years recycled to exhaustion, during which survival became a lonely target. The last eleven-ish months had been wild, to say the least. And even if she'd been doing alright, there was too much unsaid and at some point her little dark corner of repressed emotions would overflow into the harsh light of rationality. Until that happened, she would keep things as they were, ignoring herself in favor of studying an A to Z style map on the table. It showed how that Pyramid had flattened most of the area of the City of London east of St Pauls, leaving London Wall clear to the north, St Martin Le Grand to the west and Cannon Street to the south.
"Doctor." His surprise at being summoned got well hidden before joining her side. "The Cathedral, the Monks' headquarters. We are going to have to break in there."
"Why?" Bill hesitated.
"Somewhere in there, the Monks must have some kind of a machine that creates and broadcasts the myths of their history." The Doctor felt relieved that they'd fallen back into a known dynamic. "The ones that are powered by, carried by, fed by your brainwaves. So, we get in, I plug myself into it, and replace the signals that they are receiving with my brainwaves and beam out the true history of the world. Oh, yes! I could even throw in some other stuff." Everyone watched as he grew excited, Ophelia even smiled a little. "The things that I could change just by thinking. Racism. People who talk in cinemas."
"Are you sure? This would be an incredibly sophisticated transmitter, powerful enough to beam highly detailed propaganda to the entire world twenty four hours a day, and you're going to plug your brain into it?" Nardole's cynic observation was quickly brushed aside.
"I know. It doesn't stand a chance."
༓☾☽༓
Oddly enough, their life did a complete 360 turn back to Turmezistan.
A few things had changed though. Instead of being flanked by those military leaders, who were unfortunately dead, soldiers hung around the safe house, doing God knows what. And unlike that harsh type of sunlight endemic to deserts, London remained under a low covering of clouds, illuminated in grayscale. The Doctor no longer needed his sonic glasses to see things but his companion wished to have her sunglasses back, even this poor attempt at a sunny day hurt her eyes.
"That's odd." Nardole stood besides the girl, looking out from what little space was between wooden boards. "There's no Monks guarding the entrance."
"Come away from the window." Their alien friend urged. "How many Monks were there?"
"About twelve Monks there." The cyborg's information caused unease in everyone.
"Twelve?"
Nardole's eyes looked through the slats again once more, not a single Monk in sight.
"Well, you have to admit that's ever so clever."
"You see?" The Doctor turned his other companion and six soldiers. "Another way they hang on to power is to create a myth that they're here in greater numbers than they really are."
"The beam's stronger here, isn't it? I can almost hear it." Bill's musing concerned them, and Lia's mind found itself struggling against altered images of history trying to take root. "It's so hard to hang on to any thought of life before the Monks."
"Yes, and it's going to get stronger the closer we get to the transmitter. The lies are going to become more convincing." He began to walk between those following him faithfully. "You'll want to turn around. You won't know what you're doing here or why you're working against the Monks." Back at the front, his plan entered its final stages. "Now, have you all got your stereo headphone iThing?"
"Yeah." Bill's focus left her best friend's clenched fists, tiny droplets of blood going unnoticed in black velvet skirts. "You never told us what we needed these for."
"Ah, this is where you come in."
Ophelia felt absolutely ridiculous. Paired with a full face of make up, still intact hair and that dress, those headphones made her look insane. Thankfully no one seemed to be outside except for their group as they left relative safety.
The Monks are not our friends. They have invaded Earth and made its people slaves. They cling onto power by means of a powerful transmitter broadcasting myths and lies that suggest that they have always been here.
Following the Doctor's lead both girls hurried down the street, less than two blocks felt like an eternity given their being exposed.
In fact, they have only been here a few months, and have falsified and manipulated our history. Our mission is to interrupt their broadcast and replace it with the true history of Earth, which will weaken and undermine the Monks' power. The Monks are not our friends. They have invaded Earth and made its people slaves. They cling onto power by means of a powerful transmitter, broadcasting myths and lies.
Bill's soft explaining offered Ophelia's tired brain something to focus on, which she supposed was the point. Out of habit, her steps kept up with his.
That suggest that they have always been here.
"Take cover!"
It was the Doctor who caught Alan's warning, quickly ducking behind a column with Ophelia in tow, Bill following suit with Nardole to their left.
In fact, they have only been here a few months, and have falsified and manipulated our history.
As soldiers rained down bullets, the Monks used their solid energy beams to create personal shields, rendering every projectile useless. Alan's automatic weapon jammed and he barely made a dive across the corridor as one of the Monks tried to kill him.
Our mission is to interrupt their broadcast and replace it with the true history of Earth, which will weaken and undermine the Monks' power. The Monks are not our friends. They have invaded Earth.
For a few longs moments gunfire overpowered the recording in everyone's ears, until someone managed to kill both Monks.
"Are you aright?" Ophelia mouthed to Alan, who remained down on the floor, leaning against a column.
"Yeah, I think it's my..." He assured her before looking to his tape recorder where a friendly bullet had unraveled the tape. "Oh. Doctor!"
"Come on."
With her help to get up, they hurried after their crew. Surely he'd not be able to keep sane for much longer without Bill's recorded reminder to aid but she'd keep faith. Further along, at a door just like the Simulation Chamber's, an alien looked through a crack.
"It's in here." He turned to find Alan's pistol was cocked and pointed at his forehead. "Everything all right, Alan?"
"You tricked us. You tried to make us believe the Monks were invaders. How could you say that? They've always been here. You know that."
Sometimes the only reward for having faith was to have it tested.
"Ah-ha." He followed her gaze to see the damaged tape player. "Ah. Oh, I see."
"The Monks are our friends. I won't let you hurt them. I'll die first. I'll kill you first."
She had been about ready to yell loudly, punch left kidney, basically shock him while someone thought of a better plan when Alan lowered his gun and crumples to the ground. Nardole stood behind him, holding up his right thumb and forefinger.
"Tarovian Neck Pinch." His tone must've been upbeat if smiling was any indicator. "Yeah, I... I studied their martial arts for a while, actually. Yeah, reached the level of Brown Tabard. Can't do it with this hand though." He looked at his left hand with displeasure. "Kind of bugs me. Course, this wasn't my original hand, as you know. I won this in a game of er, yeah, let's crack on."
The Doctor shot him a dirty look and soniced the door open. Triangular screens ran a perimeter across the square room, each showing images of Monks with various people in history - Churchill, Einstein, Gagarin, Pankhurst, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr, Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer's wedding.
"Fake News Central." He whispered, slow steps leading them forward.
All three companions were shocked into silence. If having history displayed wasn't enough to leave their minds awed, a withered monk sat in a chair that seemingly emerged from the floor. It was lit up the same as an inverted pyramid lowering in alignment from the ceiling. Just then Bill realized something that lead to her easing the headphones from her ears.
"I can think." For the first time in months, such thing came easily. "They're not in my head. Why is that?"
"We're in the eye of the storm." He watched as storm clouds swirled around the small pyramid's base. "Guard the doors. We can't be interrupted."
‧͙⁺˚*･༓༓･*˚⁺‧͙
one more chapter to go in this episode then four (more like three and a quarter) episodes till this book is done.
Also, feel free to check out 'Astra' on my profile. It's kind of a companion book to this one.