Only Human by Gareth Roberts Somebody’s interfering with time. The Doctor, Rose and Captain Jack arrive on modern‐day Earth to find the culprit – and discover a Neanderthal Man, twenty‐eight thousand years after his race became extinct. Only a trip back to the primeval dawn of humanity can solve the mystery. Who are the mysterious humans from the distant future now living in that distant past? What hideous monsters are trying to escape from behind the Grey Door? Is Rose going to end up married to a caveman? Caught between three very different types of human being – past, present and future – the Doctor, Rose and Captain Jack must learn the truth behind the Osterberg experiment before the monstrous Hy‐Bractors escape to change humanity’s history forever… Featuring the Doctor, Rose and Captain Jack as played by Christopher Eccleston, Billie Piper and John Barrowman in the hit series from BBC Television. Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Acknowledgements About the Author For Clayton, as usual, and for Da My Weekend by Chantal Osterberg (aged 7) 2 October ad 438,533 On Saturday, our cat Dusty was giving the whole family too many wrong‐feelings. She weed on the upholstery again. It’s nice to have pets to stroke, and we do love Dusty, but she has been too naughty recently. She gets in the way. Later a man over the road triped over her and broke his leg. That was inconvenient and the man needed a health‐patch. That was when I took a long look at Dusty and decided she was very inefficient. Animals run about for no reason, and they must feel all sorts of odd sensations just like people used to. I thought it would be a good idea to improve Dusty so she would be happier and would understand not to be naughty. So I went to my room and got out my pen and paper. I had lots of ideas about improvements and I wrote them all down. Then I called Dusty into my room and set to work, using Mother’s cutters and things from her work‐kit. First I took off her tail, which I consider to be a bit pointless in its present form, so I stretched it and made it scaly. Then I opened Dusty up and moved her organs about to make them more logical. Then I took her head off, pulled her brain out and studied it. It is very primitive, not really what you’d call a brain at all. I got out one of Mother’s gene sprays and dialled it to make Dusty more ferocious at catching mice and better at breeding. I made it so she would never wee again. Then I put all her bits back together and took her downstairs to show to my parents. Unfortunately, the improved Dusty gave my parents wrong‐feelings. They tried to catch her but she sped out of the door and I don’t think she’ll ever come back. All the mice are dead now. There was no need for mice, and eventually all cats will be like Dusty because of my cleverness. I like improving things. So that was my weekend. Bromley, 2005 The young Roman examined himself in the mirror. He adjusted his purple robe and straightened the circlet of plastic laurel leaves on his head. He was very pleased with himself and how he looked, as usual. An astronaut walked in behind him, crossed over to the urinal and, with some difficulty, unzipped the flies of his silver space trousers. ‘Hey, Dean,’ he called over his shoulder to the Roman. ‘There’s a bloke here really giving Nicola the eye.’ Dean felt a wave of anger rushing up inside him. Which was all right, because he liked feeling angry. Most of his Friday nights ended up like this. It didn’t take a lot. The astronaut finished and did up his flies. Dean came right up to him. ‘What bloke?’ he asked. ‘The caveman.’ A few moments later, out by the bar, Nicola, who was dressed as a chicken, looked up at Dean through her beak. Oh no, not another scene, not another fight. She shouted to make herself heard over the thudding music. ‘Dean, it doesn’t matter!’ Dean’s mate the astronaut was intent on firing him up. ‘He won’t leave her alone. Kept eyeing her up while you were in there. I told him she’s seeing you…’ Dean looked around the club, over the crowded dance floor. He searched for a caveman among the clowns, schoolgirls, vicars and punks. ‘I’m gonna sort it,’ he said, feeling the energy crackle through his powerful body. He strode away into the crowd. Nicola jumped down from her stool and, clutching her golden egg, hopped after him in her three‐clawed felt slippers. ‘Dean, leave it. It doesn’t matter! Dean, not again!’ Dean found the caveman next to the cigarette machine. He was a short‐arse, with a dirty black wig and what could have been someone’s old carpet wrapped round him. Dean came up behind him, taking long, powerful strides, and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Oi, Captain Caveman!’ he shouted. ‘You wanna be careful what you’re hunting!’ The caveman whipped round, and Dean had a moment to register two things about him: the costume was really good and he stank like a sad old brown pond. Before Dean could notice or do anything else, the caveman let out a terrifying high‐pitched wail, bent like an animal and charged him in the middle. Dean went over backwards, crashing into a table. He heard screams, shouts, the smash of shattering glass. The music stopped mid‐thud. Dean sprang back up and launched himself at the caveman, delivering his most powerful punch into his guts. The caveman staggered and then flung himself at Dean, jabbing with his strangely small fists. Dean shielded his face as he was driven back, the world spinning around him. Then he felt his legs kicked out from under him. He was twisted round and forced to his knees, and a muscular, hairy arm locked itself around his neck, squeezing with savage strength. Dean had the sudden feeling the caveman was going to kill him. Then the bouncers piled in, three heavy men in bomber jackets pulling the caveman off. Dean sank back, clutching at his throat, gasping for air, the iron tang of blood in his mouth. He looked up. The caveman was struggling with the bouncers, yelping again like a screaming child. He was uncontrollable. Two of the bouncers held him steady, the third smacked him in the jaw. He gave a final squawk and his head sagged forward. Dean was dragged to his feet by one of the bouncers, his head swimming. ‘I didn’t start it,’ he heard himself protesting. ‘He went mental.’ Nicola’s face peered at him from inside the chicken’s beak. ‘That’s it! You are chucked!’ Dean pointed feebly at the caveman, who was being dragged to a chair by the bouncers. The lights came on. ‘He just went mental,’ he repeated. The astronaut, Tony, stared at the caveman. ‘Not him,’ he said. ‘Hi.’ He pointed across the club to the mass of startled partygoers on the other side of the dance floor. A puny‐looking guy stood there in a torn leopard skin, a comedy dinosaur bone hanging by his side. Nicola sighed. ‘I’m going.’ Then she cried out to a friend, ‘Cheryl, get us a taxi!’ and stalked off. Dean looked between the two cavemen. He nodded to the one he’d fought. ‘Who’s that, then?’ Tony shrugged. He looked more closely at the unconscious caveman’s face. Under the mop of dirty black hair his bearded features were lumpy, with huge misshapen brows and cheekbones. ‘Dunno, but I think Notre‐Dame’s missing a bell‐ringer.’ Dean felt himself being dragged out. Tony tagged along as usual. They headed for the kebab shop. A lot of their Friday nights ended up like this. It wasn’t surprising Tony didn’t recognise Dean’s opponent. After all, nobody in Bromley had seen a Neanderthal man for 28,000 years. ONE ‘You are gonna love this, Rose,’ enthused the Doctor as he leaped from panel to panel of the TARDIS console, his eyes alight with childish optimism in the reflected green glow of the grinding central column. As always, Rose felt the Doctor’s enthusiasm building the same anticipation and excitement in her. She grabbed the edge of the console as the TARDIS gave one of its customary lurches and smiled over at him. ‘Tell me more.’ The Doctor spun a dial and threw a lever. ‘Kegron Pluva,’ he announced grandly. ‘OK,’ mused Rose. ‘That a person or a place? Or some sod of oven spray?’ ‘Planet.’ The Doctor beamed. ‘It’s got the maddest ecosystem in the universe.’ He flung his arms about, demonstrating. ‘You’ve got six moons going one way, three moons going the other way, and a sun that onl orbits the planet! Forty‐three seasons in one year. The top life form, it’s a kind of dog‐plant‐fungus thing…’ ‘Top dog‐plant‐fungus,’ laughed Rose. ‘Yeah.’ The Doctor nodded. ‘Plus the water’s solid and everyone eats a kind of metal plum…’ Rose held up a hand. ‘Enough spoilers. Just let me see it.’ She was tingling with pleasure, goosebumps coming up on her arms at the prospect of stepping out from the TARDIS onto this bizarre alien world.