Doctor Who and The Plan's Master Plan: A Target Novelization
Part One: Come Sail Away “ANSWERS WILL NOT BE GIVEN.” The Doctor was having a dream. She knew she was having a dream. She could tell. Colours were too vivid or too dull. The location swept away from familiar location to familiar location. There was a severe amount of disconcertion. “IT IS ALL DIFFERENT NOW.” The grotesque feeling of familiarity would not abate. Grocery store, now. She was in one. The shelves were all empty, every single bit of them, but the freezers weren’t off. It was cold. Cold for a dream. “OLDER. OLDER. WE GROW HARDY, STRONG, FROM THE WEATHER. IT DOES NOT UPROOT THAT WHICH IS AND NEVER IS.” Who was talking to her?? They were ancient, guttural, the voice of someone who smoked too much in their youth. No more grocery store. Now she was in UNIT, her old laboratory. Jo Jones (at this time, Grant) was sitting on the desk, not at it, on it, young and beautiful, wearing her hair down in a frizzy knotty mess. Jo Jones whispered to her, in a voice uniquely unlike her own: “...