Post by motleycrue on Nov 26, 2008 10:10:32 GMT -5
A/N: We Will Rock You/Doctor Who crossover. Yeah, I think this was written pretty much out of boredom, and because that it was possible. So, erm, not really much I can say about it. Reviews are liked ... Cross-posted at my ff.net account
Rock the Tardis
“He knows the text, but he’s never read it! He’s the man!” The excited male voice was the first thing which the Doctor heard upon stepping out of his Tardis. He frowned, and decided to move in the direction of the voice, wondering if it would give him some clue as to what time period he had landed in, though he was pretty sure he was on Earth.
“Then what does it mean? Who is Mamma, who’s been killed? Why has it all been thrown away?” a female voice joined the male’s, though this voice sounded desperate, as if everything hinged on finding out the answers to her questions.
“I d-don’t know!” Yet another voice, this time slightly more nervous than the previous two spoke out. This voice, however, sounded decidedly familiar to the Doctor, and although he couldn’t exactly place it, he was sure it would come to him eventually.
“We’ve been searching for the meaning all our lives,” the female said again, sounding desperate once more, but angry as well. It was as though she expected the second male to reveal all the answers to her at once. Perhaps that was what she thought he was meant to do.
“Nothing wrong with searching all your lives for something,” the Doctor spoke up as he approached them, “tends to be the only way to make sure you’ve looked properly,” he said. “Hello, I’m the Doctor, who’re you?” he asked, beaming at them all widely. He noticed that there were was one more person to join the three voices he had already heard, though she had been silent all this time. The more outspoken female stared at him, before jumping into action. “’e’s a spy! Ge’ ‘im!”
“Doctor, doctor gave me the news,” the second male, who, the Doctor realised upon inspection, was really only a boy, muttered slightly, “got a bad case of lovin’ you.” The second female, who was standing leaning against a broken down, rolled her eyes at his words. The boy smiled sheepish, scuffing his boot on the ground.
“Hang on Meat!” the first male, who gave out an impression of being quite scary, grabbed the blonde female, who was apparently named Meat, around her waist. “He ain’t no spy,” he insisted. “The texts talk about a Doctor!” he reminded her, causing her eyes to widen slightly.
“’E was wi’ Freddie, on ’is last days … ” she murmured, staring at the Doctor slightly, awe in her face. The Doctor frowned, not quite sure why his name would be in some ‘texts’, and why the mention that it was would stop Meat in her tracks. The first male, the Doctor secretly noted that he should find out their names to stop confusing him, smiled warmly at him, removing any of the earlier intimidating image. He walked over and shook the Doctor’s hand quite firmly.
“Call me Brit,” he told him. “An’ I thought you might show up,” he said with a wide grin, “I mean, all the texts say you show when helps needed the most, an’ we need help.”
“Well, erm, Brit, glad to be of help, but what are these texts?” the Doctor asked, feeling confused in his current situation. Brit looked around them, obviously checking to see if it was safe, before shaking his head, conveying an unspoken message: Not here, but I will tell you. The Doctor nodded, understanding. He turned to Meat, nodding at her. “We have to go,” he said to her, gaining a nod in return.
“Galileo, Scaramouche, are yae ready tae go underground?” she grinned over at the two teenagers. The names echoed round in the Doctor’s mind. He knew they were significant, but he couldn’t plac… Oh wait, yes he could
“Galileo? As in Galileo Figaro?” he asked the boy excitedly. Galileo nodded nervously stepping back in such a way that his tall frame hid Scaramouche from view, which drew a loud tut from her, as well as a few well spoken words, shoving Galileo forward. She turned to face Meat.
“Don’t suppose we’ve go’ much o’ a choice, have we?” she asked the blonde, raising her chin in defiance, deliberately ignoring the Doctor’s whoop of excitement. Unknown to Scaramouche, the Doctor was excited as he had worked out which time period it was he had landed in. This was the very start of the Bohemian Revolution, which lead to the new Golden Age of Planet Earth, as they united under rock’n’roll. And there he was, standing in the presence of the Dreamer and his bad-assed babe, two members of what would long be proclaimed as one of the greatest rock bands of all time. But how was Scaramouche to know that? So she did what she thought best and ignored him. At least, she ignored him at first. “OI! MAN CHILD!” she bellowed at him, shutting him up effectively as he turned to stare at her. “Much better,” she remarked, turning back once more to Meat. “Well?” she asked, gaining a beaming grin from the blonde.
“Then understand this,” Brit said, talking to Galileo, Scaramouche mostly, but also including the Doctor in his eye view. “If you come with us, if you join the Bohemians, there’s no way back to GaGa Land. You’ll be an outcast forever, no longer a member of the Cons-Human Race,” he warned them, clearly giving them the opportunity to back out if they so wished it. The Doctor didn’t move, he had turned his back on his own society long ago, so the speech didn’t apply to him. He watched as Galileo and Scaramouche exchanged the briefest of looks, silently agreeing.
“Sounds perfect,” Scaramouche grinned. “Let’s go!”
XXX
The Heartbreak Hotel was one of those places that the Doctor felt would never leave his memory. It had been filled to the brim with people, all of whom shared a common interest and goal, but who didn’t resort to the more violent methods to obtain it as he might have expected from humans. There had been many introductions, and many explanations, and the Doctor had been given the chance to study a small selection of the texts which the Bohemians revered so much. He had been somewhat surprised to see that they consisted of posters and old magazine for the most part, but there were snippets of diaries, and old autobiographies of rock stars he knew, or should it be had known considering the time period he was in?
He had only looked up from his reading at the sound of loud alarms, or perhaps sirens was a better word for them, echoing through the old tube station causing a loud shiver to go running down his spine. He stood, looking around at the panic of the Bohemians, and had quickly walked over to join Meat and Brit, silently conversing with Brit - who was an expert at it - about the situation. A simple gesture cleared up the matter: Police.
“So, finally I’m checking into the Heartbreak Hotel,” a loud baritone voice boomed throughout the platform, drawing everyone’s attention, though it was hard to take their eyes from the police officers who stood surrounding them, laser guns held threateningly. The Doctor stood, hands raised.
“I think we should all -” he began, before the baritone voice interrupted once again, ignoring him completely.
“So, Mr McCartney,” the voice, which as the Doctor was quickly told, belong to head of the secret police, a Commander Khashoggi, said to the Bohemian known as Big Macca, who was nice, if a bit too convinced of his own importance. “I say hello, you say goodbye,” Khashoggi taunted, to the disgust of the Bohemians who yelled furiously at the man.
“NO!” Brit’s voiced echoed about all the others, as he glared furiously at Khashoggi, filled with righteous anger. “You’ll never take the Dreamer while I’m alive!” he insisted. Khashoggi laughed, as the Bohemians were all pushed back by the police holding the guns, and imprisoned in a portable laser cage. The Doctor frowned, having been convinced these had been outlawed by the Shadow Proclamation only 50 years before the current time period. Why was it that humans never bothered to check up on the latest inter-galactic laws? The Doctor found himself pushed in beside Meat in the cage, watching as she glared murderously towards the nearest police person.
“And you’ll never escape the laser cage,” Khashoggi taunted. The Doctor’s hand twitched, moving quickly towards his pocket, pulling out his sonic screwdriver, a number of different ways to remove the cage running through his mind. But it was all too late, as Brit, through pure adrenaline alone, had pushed his way through the laser bars, standing outside the cage, breathing heavily.
“Galileo! Scaramouche!” he called to the two teens, who were being held by a pair of police outside the cage. “The future of rock lies with you!” he yelled, turning round, and with a stick he had acquired at some point during the evening, broke the jaw of the nearest police officer to him. After that, it was utter chaos, with the Bohemians cheering Brit on loudly, and Khashoggi laughing manically over the top of all the racket. No one seemed to notice Galileo and Scaramouche, having managed to break free of their captors, quickly making their way out of the Heartbreak, Galileo turning back worriedly, concerned for the new friend he had made. Then it happened so quickly that had the Doctor blinked, he would have missed it all.
A laser gun fired, and all went silent. Then came the blood chilling, heartbroken scream from Meat, mixed with the shocked yell of the Dreamer “NO!”
The Doctor could do nothing but watch, as the still figure of Britney Spears fell backwards, dead.
XXX
It was many hours later when the Doctor came to in his prison cell. He sat up with a short groan, a hand reaching up to rub at his forehead. He looked around, the memories of the previous few hours rushing back to him. “Why brainwashing helmets?” he groaned lightly, remembering what it was that had lead towards his current headache. Brainwashing helmets would do what they were designed to on humans, but he was anything but human, and had simply ended up with a killer headache. Killer … the word echoed in his mind as his eyes closed in a silent moment of grief, as he quietly gave some time to mourn the loss of Brit.
After a minute or two, the Doctor stood, a new fire in his eyes. He couldn’t bring Brit back, and he couldn’t cross his own time line to prevent the death, but he could sure as hell make sure that what Brit had died for happened: he would help the Dreamer, and bring down Globalsoft. He began checking through his pockets quickly, grateful to find that the police officers hadn’t taken his sonic screwdriver from him, perhaps they had thought it nothing more than a toy. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t about to judge it. He moved quickly, unlocking his own cell and looking about him, trying to find anyone else who was awake.
He found one, in the cell at the far end of the block. Miss Meat Loaf sat, staring at the wall with a distant, emotionless look. The Doctor paused, wondering if he should, but ultimately knowing that if he didn’t, he would be committing a great disservice towards Brit. With a soft sigh, he opened the door to Meat’s cell, walking inside and kneeling down in front of her. She stared up at him, eyes wide but unseeing. “I’m so sorry,” he told her, placing his fingers to her temple, searching through her memories, bring her back.
With a gasp she returned, leaning heavily against the Doctor’s arms, the gasping continuing, mixing with heartbroken tears as she remembered everything that had happened that night. “Oh god, Brit,” she sobbed into the Doctor’s coat, her shoulder’s shaking, and her cries echoing off the stone walls.
“I’m so sorry, but you can’t mourn right now,” the Doctor said, as kindly as he could managed. “But come with me, and we’ll make sure his death wasn’t in vain,” he promised her, holding out his hand as he stood up. Meat stared at the hand for a moment, still kneeling on the cold, stone floor of the cell, before taking it, using it to help stand herself upright.
“F’r Brit,” she agreed, wiping her eyes of the remaining tears, a hard look fixing itself upon her face.
XXX
“You know, for a world wide company with knowledge of pretty much everything that goes on they don’t really protect their main servers all that much,” the Doctor commented lightly, sounding almost disappointed with how easy it had been to find the location of the main Globalsoft servers. Meat gave a loud tut.
“’Course they ain’t well protected,” she told the Doctor. “Globalsucks thin’ nae-one will rise against ‘em,” she said, shrugging slightly. “Bohemians were a glitch in their system far as their concerned,” she added lightly, shifting another broken down keyboard out of her way. “Wha’ exactly is it we’re lookin’ f’r Doctor?” she asked, looking at the room with a loud hint of distaste.
“I’m looking …” the Doctor began, stopping with a grin as he found the cabinet he had been searching for. “For this,” he told Meat, gesturing for her to join him. “This acts as … well a power source in a sense,” he explain as best he could. “Because like you said, Bohemians are a glitch in the system right?” Meat nodded, unsure as to where the Doctor was heading with this. “That’s because layered under all the transmission from Globalsoft is a hidden message, that sinks into your subconscious,” there was a pause as he turned to look the cabinet again. “It was a favoured method of an old enemy of mine, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was behind it,” he admitted with a small shrug of his shoulders.
“So we do wha’ wi’ this information?” she asked, staring at the Doctor. He gave her a grin.
“Luckily I’m very, very brilliant, and it’s because I’m very, very brilliant that I’m able to reprogram the underlying message,” he explained to Meat, who grinned back, “just enough to give people the freedom to chose,” he stopped, staring at the cabinet with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Oh, wha’ now?” Meat snapped. The Doctor continued to stare.
“It needs a trigger something … hang on … can you hear that?” he asked, pausing. Meat frowned, nodding and trying to place why the noise sounded familiar to her. At the same moment they both turned, staring at the computer behind them, which had been left open to what looked like the feed from a security camera. On screen they could see Galileo, Scaramouche, and an old man who Galileo called Pop, standing at the gates of Wembley, slowly pulling the long sought after guitar from the rock.
“They do exist,” Meat breathed, her eyes glistening happily. The Doctor watched the screen, taking in the actions of everyone, noticing when Pop pulled out an old, but still working, digital pad which had internet link up.
“That’s it!” he yelled, causing Meat to jump. She had been so immersed in the sight of the guitar that all other thoughts had left her mind. “That’s the trigger! That email Pop’s sending!” the Doctor explained, as he rapidly programmed at twice the speed that Pop could type.
“Better hurry Doctor, the old fogey’s gettin’ tae the end o’ ‘is email,” she said, keeping an eye on the proceedings carefully. At the same moment Pop pressed enter, the Doctor let out a triumphant yell, hitting the button which was effectively enter, his new programming of the underlying message mixing with Pop’s worldwide email, which was, one by one, being opened by GaGa kids all over the planet, all receiving the power of rock, mixed with the subconscious, reassuring message that it was okay to like it … it was okay to like anything you wanted to …
XXX
The party afterwards had been unlike anything the Bohemians had every seen before in their life, with newly ‘awakened’ GaGa kids joining them. As the Doctor explain, the Seven Seas bar had an automatic link up to the Globalsoft servers, and they were aware of what was going on, even if they couldn’t process it. The new message, mixed with the mind altering power most decent music had, managed to restore their minds to their previous states, though he added that they should possibly lay off any illegal substances for a short period of time. And maybe not drink as much.
Meat stood on the outskirts of the party, nursing a bottle of beer, and grinning sadly in at her friends. The Doctor joined her, standing beside her silently. It was a few moments before Meat broke the silence, though her voice was soft, no where near as loud as it had first been when the Doctor encountered her. “This was all ‘e wanted,” she let out a bitter laugh. “’Is dream came soddin’ true and ’e ain’t even here tae see it.”
The Doctor looked at her, a kind smile on his face. “He’ll be remembered you know? You all will,” he told Meat, turning out to look at the sky, with her following his actions. “In years to come, spread out all across the skies, there’ll be species singing about your story Meat, about his story.”
“No gonna brin’ ‘im bac’ though, is it?” she added sadly, turning to look at the Doctor with wide eyes. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. There was a few moments silence, where the Doctor made no remark to the soft sniffs and sobs coming from Meat, something which she was grateful for. Eventually she looked up, wiping the last few tears from her face.
“So, wha’ about you? Wha’ next f’r the great Doctor?” she asked, attempting a half grin. The Doctor gave a half grin back.
“Oh, just travelling,” he answered her. “The same old life.” She nodded, accepting his answer. There was another few moments silence, before Meat turned to look at the Doctor once more.
“C’n I come?”
Rock the Tardis
“He knows the text, but he’s never read it! He’s the man!” The excited male voice was the first thing which the Doctor heard upon stepping out of his Tardis. He frowned, and decided to move in the direction of the voice, wondering if it would give him some clue as to what time period he had landed in, though he was pretty sure he was on Earth.
“Then what does it mean? Who is Mamma, who’s been killed? Why has it all been thrown away?” a female voice joined the male’s, though this voice sounded desperate, as if everything hinged on finding out the answers to her questions.
“I d-don’t know!” Yet another voice, this time slightly more nervous than the previous two spoke out. This voice, however, sounded decidedly familiar to the Doctor, and although he couldn’t exactly place it, he was sure it would come to him eventually.
“We’ve been searching for the meaning all our lives,” the female said again, sounding desperate once more, but angry as well. It was as though she expected the second male to reveal all the answers to her at once. Perhaps that was what she thought he was meant to do.
“Nothing wrong with searching all your lives for something,” the Doctor spoke up as he approached them, “tends to be the only way to make sure you’ve looked properly,” he said. “Hello, I’m the Doctor, who’re you?” he asked, beaming at them all widely. He noticed that there were was one more person to join the three voices he had already heard, though she had been silent all this time. The more outspoken female stared at him, before jumping into action. “’e’s a spy! Ge’ ‘im!”
“Doctor, doctor gave me the news,” the second male, who, the Doctor realised upon inspection, was really only a boy, muttered slightly, “got a bad case of lovin’ you.” The second female, who was standing leaning against a broken down, rolled her eyes at his words. The boy smiled sheepish, scuffing his boot on the ground.
“Hang on Meat!” the first male, who gave out an impression of being quite scary, grabbed the blonde female, who was apparently named Meat, around her waist. “He ain’t no spy,” he insisted. “The texts talk about a Doctor!” he reminded her, causing her eyes to widen slightly.
“’E was wi’ Freddie, on ’is last days … ” she murmured, staring at the Doctor slightly, awe in her face. The Doctor frowned, not quite sure why his name would be in some ‘texts’, and why the mention that it was would stop Meat in her tracks. The first male, the Doctor secretly noted that he should find out their names to stop confusing him, smiled warmly at him, removing any of the earlier intimidating image. He walked over and shook the Doctor’s hand quite firmly.
“Call me Brit,” he told him. “An’ I thought you might show up,” he said with a wide grin, “I mean, all the texts say you show when helps needed the most, an’ we need help.”
“Well, erm, Brit, glad to be of help, but what are these texts?” the Doctor asked, feeling confused in his current situation. Brit looked around them, obviously checking to see if it was safe, before shaking his head, conveying an unspoken message: Not here, but I will tell you. The Doctor nodded, understanding. He turned to Meat, nodding at her. “We have to go,” he said to her, gaining a nod in return.
“Galileo, Scaramouche, are yae ready tae go underground?” she grinned over at the two teenagers. The names echoed round in the Doctor’s mind. He knew they were significant, but he couldn’t plac… Oh wait, yes he could
“Galileo? As in Galileo Figaro?” he asked the boy excitedly. Galileo nodded nervously stepping back in such a way that his tall frame hid Scaramouche from view, which drew a loud tut from her, as well as a few well spoken words, shoving Galileo forward. She turned to face Meat.
“Don’t suppose we’ve go’ much o’ a choice, have we?” she asked the blonde, raising her chin in defiance, deliberately ignoring the Doctor’s whoop of excitement. Unknown to Scaramouche, the Doctor was excited as he had worked out which time period it was he had landed in. This was the very start of the Bohemian Revolution, which lead to the new Golden Age of Planet Earth, as they united under rock’n’roll. And there he was, standing in the presence of the Dreamer and his bad-assed babe, two members of what would long be proclaimed as one of the greatest rock bands of all time. But how was Scaramouche to know that? So she did what she thought best and ignored him. At least, she ignored him at first. “OI! MAN CHILD!” she bellowed at him, shutting him up effectively as he turned to stare at her. “Much better,” she remarked, turning back once more to Meat. “Well?” she asked, gaining a beaming grin from the blonde.
“Then understand this,” Brit said, talking to Galileo, Scaramouche mostly, but also including the Doctor in his eye view. “If you come with us, if you join the Bohemians, there’s no way back to GaGa Land. You’ll be an outcast forever, no longer a member of the Cons-Human Race,” he warned them, clearly giving them the opportunity to back out if they so wished it. The Doctor didn’t move, he had turned his back on his own society long ago, so the speech didn’t apply to him. He watched as Galileo and Scaramouche exchanged the briefest of looks, silently agreeing.
“Sounds perfect,” Scaramouche grinned. “Let’s go!”
XXX
The Heartbreak Hotel was one of those places that the Doctor felt would never leave his memory. It had been filled to the brim with people, all of whom shared a common interest and goal, but who didn’t resort to the more violent methods to obtain it as he might have expected from humans. There had been many introductions, and many explanations, and the Doctor had been given the chance to study a small selection of the texts which the Bohemians revered so much. He had been somewhat surprised to see that they consisted of posters and old magazine for the most part, but there were snippets of diaries, and old autobiographies of rock stars he knew, or should it be had known considering the time period he was in?
He had only looked up from his reading at the sound of loud alarms, or perhaps sirens was a better word for them, echoing through the old tube station causing a loud shiver to go running down his spine. He stood, looking around at the panic of the Bohemians, and had quickly walked over to join Meat and Brit, silently conversing with Brit - who was an expert at it - about the situation. A simple gesture cleared up the matter: Police.
“So, finally I’m checking into the Heartbreak Hotel,” a loud baritone voice boomed throughout the platform, drawing everyone’s attention, though it was hard to take their eyes from the police officers who stood surrounding them, laser guns held threateningly. The Doctor stood, hands raised.
“I think we should all -” he began, before the baritone voice interrupted once again, ignoring him completely.
“So, Mr McCartney,” the voice, which as the Doctor was quickly told, belong to head of the secret police, a Commander Khashoggi, said to the Bohemian known as Big Macca, who was nice, if a bit too convinced of his own importance. “I say hello, you say goodbye,” Khashoggi taunted, to the disgust of the Bohemians who yelled furiously at the man.
“NO!” Brit’s voiced echoed about all the others, as he glared furiously at Khashoggi, filled with righteous anger. “You’ll never take the Dreamer while I’m alive!” he insisted. Khashoggi laughed, as the Bohemians were all pushed back by the police holding the guns, and imprisoned in a portable laser cage. The Doctor frowned, having been convinced these had been outlawed by the Shadow Proclamation only 50 years before the current time period. Why was it that humans never bothered to check up on the latest inter-galactic laws? The Doctor found himself pushed in beside Meat in the cage, watching as she glared murderously towards the nearest police person.
“And you’ll never escape the laser cage,” Khashoggi taunted. The Doctor’s hand twitched, moving quickly towards his pocket, pulling out his sonic screwdriver, a number of different ways to remove the cage running through his mind. But it was all too late, as Brit, through pure adrenaline alone, had pushed his way through the laser bars, standing outside the cage, breathing heavily.
“Galileo! Scaramouche!” he called to the two teens, who were being held by a pair of police outside the cage. “The future of rock lies with you!” he yelled, turning round, and with a stick he had acquired at some point during the evening, broke the jaw of the nearest police officer to him. After that, it was utter chaos, with the Bohemians cheering Brit on loudly, and Khashoggi laughing manically over the top of all the racket. No one seemed to notice Galileo and Scaramouche, having managed to break free of their captors, quickly making their way out of the Heartbreak, Galileo turning back worriedly, concerned for the new friend he had made. Then it happened so quickly that had the Doctor blinked, he would have missed it all.
A laser gun fired, and all went silent. Then came the blood chilling, heartbroken scream from Meat, mixed with the shocked yell of the Dreamer “NO!”
The Doctor could do nothing but watch, as the still figure of Britney Spears fell backwards, dead.
XXX
It was many hours later when the Doctor came to in his prison cell. He sat up with a short groan, a hand reaching up to rub at his forehead. He looked around, the memories of the previous few hours rushing back to him. “Why brainwashing helmets?” he groaned lightly, remembering what it was that had lead towards his current headache. Brainwashing helmets would do what they were designed to on humans, but he was anything but human, and had simply ended up with a killer headache. Killer … the word echoed in his mind as his eyes closed in a silent moment of grief, as he quietly gave some time to mourn the loss of Brit.
After a minute or two, the Doctor stood, a new fire in his eyes. He couldn’t bring Brit back, and he couldn’t cross his own time line to prevent the death, but he could sure as hell make sure that what Brit had died for happened: he would help the Dreamer, and bring down Globalsoft. He began checking through his pockets quickly, grateful to find that the police officers hadn’t taken his sonic screwdriver from him, perhaps they had thought it nothing more than a toy. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t about to judge it. He moved quickly, unlocking his own cell and looking about him, trying to find anyone else who was awake.
He found one, in the cell at the far end of the block. Miss Meat Loaf sat, staring at the wall with a distant, emotionless look. The Doctor paused, wondering if he should, but ultimately knowing that if he didn’t, he would be committing a great disservice towards Brit. With a soft sigh, he opened the door to Meat’s cell, walking inside and kneeling down in front of her. She stared up at him, eyes wide but unseeing. “I’m so sorry,” he told her, placing his fingers to her temple, searching through her memories, bring her back.
With a gasp she returned, leaning heavily against the Doctor’s arms, the gasping continuing, mixing with heartbroken tears as she remembered everything that had happened that night. “Oh god, Brit,” she sobbed into the Doctor’s coat, her shoulder’s shaking, and her cries echoing off the stone walls.
“I’m so sorry, but you can’t mourn right now,” the Doctor said, as kindly as he could managed. “But come with me, and we’ll make sure his death wasn’t in vain,” he promised her, holding out his hand as he stood up. Meat stared at the hand for a moment, still kneeling on the cold, stone floor of the cell, before taking it, using it to help stand herself upright.
“F’r Brit,” she agreed, wiping her eyes of the remaining tears, a hard look fixing itself upon her face.
XXX
“You know, for a world wide company with knowledge of pretty much everything that goes on they don’t really protect their main servers all that much,” the Doctor commented lightly, sounding almost disappointed with how easy it had been to find the location of the main Globalsoft servers. Meat gave a loud tut.
“’Course they ain’t well protected,” she told the Doctor. “Globalsucks thin’ nae-one will rise against ‘em,” she said, shrugging slightly. “Bohemians were a glitch in their system far as their concerned,” she added lightly, shifting another broken down keyboard out of her way. “Wha’ exactly is it we’re lookin’ f’r Doctor?” she asked, looking at the room with a loud hint of distaste.
“I’m looking …” the Doctor began, stopping with a grin as he found the cabinet he had been searching for. “For this,” he told Meat, gesturing for her to join him. “This acts as … well a power source in a sense,” he explain as best he could. “Because like you said, Bohemians are a glitch in the system right?” Meat nodded, unsure as to where the Doctor was heading with this. “That’s because layered under all the transmission from Globalsoft is a hidden message, that sinks into your subconscious,” there was a pause as he turned to look the cabinet again. “It was a favoured method of an old enemy of mine, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was behind it,” he admitted with a small shrug of his shoulders.
“So we do wha’ wi’ this information?” she asked, staring at the Doctor. He gave her a grin.
“Luckily I’m very, very brilliant, and it’s because I’m very, very brilliant that I’m able to reprogram the underlying message,” he explained to Meat, who grinned back, “just enough to give people the freedom to chose,” he stopped, staring at the cabinet with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Oh, wha’ now?” Meat snapped. The Doctor continued to stare.
“It needs a trigger something … hang on … can you hear that?” he asked, pausing. Meat frowned, nodding and trying to place why the noise sounded familiar to her. At the same moment they both turned, staring at the computer behind them, which had been left open to what looked like the feed from a security camera. On screen they could see Galileo, Scaramouche, and an old man who Galileo called Pop, standing at the gates of Wembley, slowly pulling the long sought after guitar from the rock.
“They do exist,” Meat breathed, her eyes glistening happily. The Doctor watched the screen, taking in the actions of everyone, noticing when Pop pulled out an old, but still working, digital pad which had internet link up.
“That’s it!” he yelled, causing Meat to jump. She had been so immersed in the sight of the guitar that all other thoughts had left her mind. “That’s the trigger! That email Pop’s sending!” the Doctor explained, as he rapidly programmed at twice the speed that Pop could type.
“Better hurry Doctor, the old fogey’s gettin’ tae the end o’ ‘is email,” she said, keeping an eye on the proceedings carefully. At the same moment Pop pressed enter, the Doctor let out a triumphant yell, hitting the button which was effectively enter, his new programming of the underlying message mixing with Pop’s worldwide email, which was, one by one, being opened by GaGa kids all over the planet, all receiving the power of rock, mixed with the subconscious, reassuring message that it was okay to like it … it was okay to like anything you wanted to …
XXX
The party afterwards had been unlike anything the Bohemians had every seen before in their life, with newly ‘awakened’ GaGa kids joining them. As the Doctor explain, the Seven Seas bar had an automatic link up to the Globalsoft servers, and they were aware of what was going on, even if they couldn’t process it. The new message, mixed with the mind altering power most decent music had, managed to restore their minds to their previous states, though he added that they should possibly lay off any illegal substances for a short period of time. And maybe not drink as much.
Meat stood on the outskirts of the party, nursing a bottle of beer, and grinning sadly in at her friends. The Doctor joined her, standing beside her silently. It was a few moments before Meat broke the silence, though her voice was soft, no where near as loud as it had first been when the Doctor encountered her. “This was all ‘e wanted,” she let out a bitter laugh. “’Is dream came soddin’ true and ’e ain’t even here tae see it.”
The Doctor looked at her, a kind smile on his face. “He’ll be remembered you know? You all will,” he told Meat, turning out to look at the sky, with her following his actions. “In years to come, spread out all across the skies, there’ll be species singing about your story Meat, about his story.”
“No gonna brin’ ‘im bac’ though, is it?” she added sadly, turning to look at the Doctor with wide eyes. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. There was a few moments silence, where the Doctor made no remark to the soft sniffs and sobs coming from Meat, something which she was grateful for. Eventually she looked up, wiping the last few tears from her face.
“So, wha’ about you? Wha’ next f’r the great Doctor?” she asked, attempting a half grin. The Doctor gave a half grin back.
“Oh, just travelling,” he answered her. “The same old life.” She nodded, accepting his answer. There was another few moments silence, before Meat turned to look at the Doctor once more.
“C’n I come?”