The Time of Change

The Queen

Elizabeth leads the three Doctors and me to another part of the Zygon dungeons where several of them are dispersed throughout the room working on various machines and devices. "The Zygons lost their own world," the Queen tells us unfeelingly. "It burnt in the first days of the Time War. A new home is required."

"So they want this one," I say, attempting to repressed the nauseas feeling the words bring to me.

"Not yet," she answers. "It's far too primitive. Zygons are used to a certain level of comfort."

A crimson alien decked out in a soldier's getup approaches us. It points with a huge, meaty finger. "Commander," it addresses the woman before us, "why are these creatures here?"

She glares at it as if it is below her. "Because I say they should be," she retorts. After a pause, she adds, "It is time you too were translated." Her eyes flicker toward us. "Observe this," she says, voice rather like child who is about to perform a magic trick. "I believe you will find it fascinating."

The Zygon steps closer to the wall to my right where a glass cube with dents in its corners sits on a tall table. He places his hand flatly on it, and before I can even blink, he vanishes into thin air. My breath catches. I reach for my husband's hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. Elizabeth nods at the painting directly behind the cube, and at once I recognize it as the one currently hanging in the Under Gallery. There is a figure far off in the distance.

"That's him!" I say before I can stop myself. I point at the art. "That's the Zygon. He's in the picture now."

"It's not a picture," the Warrior tells me. "It's a stasis cube: Timelord art. Frozen moments in time, bigger on the inside, but could be deployed as—"

"Suspended animation," the Tenth Doctor finishes for him. He looks impressed. "Oh, that's very good. The Zygons all pop inside the pictures, wait a few centuries till the planet's a bit more interesting, and then out they come."

"You see, Annalise," the Eleventh says to me, gesturing down at the glass cube, "they're stored in the paintings in the Under Gallery, like Cup-a-Soups, except you add time, if you can picture that." His eyebrows pull together when I scrunch my nose at him, and he adds, "Nobody can picture that. Forget I said 'Cup-a-Soups.'"

"And now the world is worth conquering," I say slowly. "The Zygons are invading the future from the past."

He nods. "Exactly."

"And do you know why I know that you're a fake?" the Tenth unexpectedly demands of Elizabeth, who looks at him with surprise. "Because you're such a bad copy," he spits at her. "It's not just the smell... or the unconvincing hair... or the atrocious teeth, or the eyes just a bit too close together, or the breath that could stun a horse. It's because Elizabeth—the real Elizabeth—would never be stupid enough to reveal her own plan. Honestly, why would you do that?"

"Because it's not my plan," she replies snippily, "and I am the real Elizabeth!"

The Tenth's eyes grow wide, and he retreats a step. "Okay, backtracking a moment just to lend context to my earlier remarks."

I almost laugh.

"My twin is dead in the forest," the Queen proudly proclaims. "I am accustomed to taking precautions!" She lifts up the hem of her dress as she speaks and reveals a dagger hidden in her garter; she whips it out, brandishing it threateningly at the four of us. "These Zygon creatures never even considered that it was me who survived rather than their own commander. The arrogance that typifies their kind." She scoffs.

"Zygons?" I ask.

"Men!" she says, huffy.

I give an exaggeratedly grave nod, much to the amusement of my husband. "And you killed one of them?"

"I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but at the time, so did the Zygon." She gives me a warm smile with hard, determined eyes, and I can feel my respect for her skyrocket. She implores of the Doctors, "The future of my kingdom is imperiled. Doctor, can I rely on your service?"

"Well," says the Tenth carefully, "I'm going to need my TARDIS."

"It has been procured already. But first, my love, you have a promise to keep."

He glances up at me, uncomfortable and embarrassed, and something tells me that this promise is not one that I will appreciate.