A Natural Aptitude for Nosiness + Gossip

Very handy undercover. 

Set a Woman to catch a Woman.

A cunning ruse, using your innate aptitude for Nosiness and Gossip. 

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
You will be punished for your interference!
The Trials are sacred.
They are The Will of God!

WILLA:
Is she alive?

(Yasmin checks for a pulse in her neck and shakes her head.)

Our Lady :
I'm sorry.

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE:
Now we have no way of knowing if Mother Twiston was a witch or not.
Guards, whip these wanderers off this bank, and then seize Willa Twiston.
We can take no chances.

Our Lady :
Leave her alone.
I'd bet my life neither of these women are witches.
But you, Mistress Savage are, without question, a murderer.

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
Who are you to address me this way?

Our Lady :
I'll tell you Who I Am.

(Checks her trouser pockets then turns to search her coat.)

Our Lady : 
Sorry, one sec.

(She hold the psychic paper up to Becka.)

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
Witchfinder General?

Our Lady :
That's right. 
Witchfinder General, with my crack team, taking over this village.
Right, gang?

The Elder :
Yeah, cos 
you are in Special Measures.

Our Lady :
Now do you recognise our authority?

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
(dropping a very small curtsey)
I do beg your pardon, Mistress Witchfinder.
Please, come to my home.
We must talk in private.

(The guards sheathe their swords.)

Our Lady :
If you swear not to hurt that girl, or anyone else.

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
If that is your wish, you have The Command.

Our Lady :
Everybody, go home.
This trial is over.

WILLA:
I have to bury her.

(The masked figure has seen everything.)







KING JAMES :
Madam, I have come to your rescue.

(Then removes his mask.)

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
King James!
Your Majesty.


KING JAMES :
You may prostrate yourselves before me, God's chosen ruler and Satan's greatest foe come to vanquish the scourge of witchcraft across the land.

Forgive The Mask.

I have enemies everywhere and have to travel incognito.
Also, I rather like The Drama.

What a peculiar ragbag of folks.
And those garments.
Are you actors?

Our Lady :
We're your witchfinders, sire, as we explained to Mistress Savage.

(The Doctor holds out the psychic paper.)

KING JAMES :
Witchfinder's Assistant?

(to Graham)

So you must be The Witchfinder General.

Our Lady :
What!?

(Starts examining the Psychic Paper)

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
No, she said she was.

KING JAMES :
A woman could never be The General.

Our Lady :
Silly me.
Must've got all confused.
Mustn't I, Boss?

The Elder :
Er, yeah, that's me, sire.
North West Division, promoted from Essex.

KING JAMES :
And these are your underlings.

The Elder :
It's err... very flat team structure.
We all have our areas of expertise.

KING JAMES :
Even the wee lassie?

Our Lady :
Even me.
Very handy undercover.
Set a woman to catch a woman.

KING JAMES :
A cunning ruse, using your innate aptitude for Nosiness and Gossip.
And what is your field of expertise, My Nubian prince?

The Youth :
Er...

KING JAMES :
Torture?

The Youth :
Me?
Er... paperwork mostly, Your Majesty.

KING JAMES :
Paper. How fascinating.
We should talk.

But first, Madam, word has reached me of your battle against Satan, your crusade against witchcraft.
But what I saw today convinced me you need assistance.

Our Lady :
That's what we've just been saying...

KING JAMES :
Hold your tongue, lassie.
Stick to snooping and leave the strategy to your King.
This is no time for The Weak.

Satan preys on The Innocent, even while they sleep.
Together, we must purify your land, starting with the grandchild of the witch you tried today.
A fine plan, is it not?

Mistress BECKA SAVAGE :
A genius plan, Your Majesty.
Together we shall save the souls of my people from Satan,
even if it means killing them all.

SECRETARY: 

So, Mister Pink, did you have a good weekend? 

DANNY

The Pink Soldier : 

Yeah, I did, thanks. 

SECRETARY: 

Yeah, I'll bet you did. 

What did you get up to? 

DANNY

The Pink Soldier : 

Er, you know. 

A bit of reading. 

SECRETARY: 

Oh, I bet you were reading. 

DANNY

The Pink Soldier : 

I was, yeah. 

SECRETARY:

 Yeah, I bet you were. 

DANNY

The Pink Soldier : 

Well, yeah, I was. 

SECRETARY:

 I know your type. 

(A schoolgirl is listening at the public counter.)

COURTNEY: 

She wishes. 

SECRETARY: 

Be quiet, you. 

Archangel Michael, Burn ‘em in Battle

Archangel Michael, 

Protect us in BATTLE.

Waking Souls Give Life to The Mind and The Body - A Dream Soul Wanders

The World is changed. 

I feel it in The Water. 

I taste it in The Soil. 

I smell it in The Air.

Much that once was is Lost; 

for none now Live, who remember it. 

Time passed.

History became Legend. 

Legend became Myth. 

And some things that should not have been forgotten, were lost. 

“F*** What You Know. 

You need to forget about What You Know, 

that's your problem. 

Forget about what you think you know about Life, about friendship, and especially about You and Me.”

He took his time about answering: 

He was beginning to acquire the Indian habit of thinking a long while before speaking.

“Do You Believe in a Soul?”!    

Deputy Hawk :

Several.

Old Blackfoot Legend.

Waking Souls Give Life to The Mind and The Body - A Dream Soul Wanders

“Dream-Souls - Where Do They Wander?”

Faraway Places; The Land of The Dead.

“Is That’s Where Laura is?”

Laura's in The Ground, Agent Cooper -

That's The Only Thing I'm Sure of.

"Property is Theft," Hagbard said, passing the peace pipe.

"If the BIA helps those real estate developers take our land," Uncle John Feather said, "that will be theft. 

But if we keep the land, that is certainly not theft."

Night was falling in the Mohawk reservation, but Hagbard saw Sam Three Arrows nod vigorously in the gloom of the small cabin. 

He felt, again, that American Indians were the hardest people in the world to understand. 

His tutors had given him a cosmopolitan education, in every sense of the word, and he usually found no blocks in relating to people of any culture, but the Indians did puzzle him at times. 

After five years of specializing in handling the legal battles of various tribes against the Bureau of Indian Affairs and the land pirates it served, he was still conscious that these people's heads were someplace he couldn't yet reach. 

Either they were the simplest, or the most sophisticated, society on the planet; maybe, he thought, they were both, and the ultimate simplicity and the ultimate sophistication are identical.

"Property is Liberty," Hagbard said. "I am quoting the same man who said Property is Theft. He also said property is impossible. I speak from The Heart. 

I wish you to understand why I take this case. I wish you to understand in fullness."

Sam Three Arrows drew on the pipe, then raised his dark eyes to Hagbard's. 

"You mean that Justice is not known like a dog who barks in the night? That it is more like the unexpected sound in the woods that must be identified cautiously after hard thinking?"

There it was again: Hagbard had heard the same concreteness of imagery in the speech of the Shoshone at the opposite end of the continent. 

He wondered, idly, if Ezra Pound's poetry might have been influenced by habits of speech his father acquired from the Indians—Homer Pound had been the first White Man born in Idaho. 

It certainly went beyond the Chinese. And it came, not from books on rhetoric, but from listening to The Heart— the Indian metaphor he had himself used a minute ago.

He took his time about answering: he was beginning to acquire the Indian habit of thinking a long while before speaking.

"Property and justice are water," he said finally. "No man can hold them long. I have spent many years in courtrooms, and I have seen property and justice change when a man speaks, change as the caterpillar changes to the butterfly. 

Do you understand me? I thought I had victory in my hands, and then the judge spoke and it went away. Like water running through the fingers."

Uncle John Feather nodded. "I understand. You mean we will lose again. 

We are accustomed to losing. Since George Washington promised us these lands 'as long as the mountain stands and the grass is green,' and then broke his promise and stole part of them back in ten years— in ten years, my friend!— we have lost, always lost. 

We have one acre left of each hundred promised to us then."

"We may not lose," Hagbard said. "I promise you, the BIA will at least know they have been in a fight this time.

 I learn more tricks, and get nastier, each time I go into a courtroom. 

I am very tricky and very nasty by now. 

But I am less sure of myself than I was when I took my first case. 

I no longer understand what I am fighting. 

I have a word for it— the SNAFU Principle, I call it— but I do not understand what it is."

There was another pause. Hagbard heard the lid on the garbage can in back of the cabin rattling: that was the raccoon that Uncle John Feather called Old Grandfather come to steal his evening dinner. 

Property was theft, certainly, in Old Grandfather's world, Hagbard thought.

"I am also puzzled," Sam Three Arrows said finally. 

"I worked, long ago, in New York City, in construction, like many young men of the Mohawk Nation. 

I found that Whites were often like us, and I could not hate them one at a time.

But they do not know The Earth or love it. 

They do not speak from The Heart, usually. They do not act from The Heart. 

They are more like the actors on the movie screen. They play roles. 

And their leaders are not like our leaders. They are not chosen for virtue, but for their skill at playing roles. 

Whites have told me this, in plain words. 

They do not trust their leaders, and yet they follow them. 

When we do not trust a leader, he is finished. 

Then, also, the leaders of the Whites have too much power. 

It is bad for a man to be obeyed too often. 

But the worst thing is what I have said about The Heart. 

Their leaders have lost it and they have lost mercy. 

They speak from somewhere else. They act from somewhere else. 

But from where? Like you, I do not know. 

It is, I think, a kind of insanity." 

He looked at Hagbard and added politely. "Some are different."

It was a long speech for him, and it stirred something in Uncle John Feather. 

"I was in the army," he said. "We went to fight a Bad White Man, or so the Whites told us. 

We had meetings that were called orientation and education. There were films. 

It was to show us how this bad white man was doing terrible things in his country. 

Everybody was angry after the films, and eager to fight. Except me. 

I was only there because the army paid more than an Indian can earn anywhere else. 

So I was not angry, but puzzled. 

There was nothing that this White leader did that the White leaders in this country do not also do. 

They told us about a place named Lidice. It was much like Wounded Knee. 

They told us of families moved thousands of miles to be destroyed. It was much like the Trail of Tears. 

They told us of how this man ruled his nation, so that none dared disobey him. 

It was much like the way White Men work in corporations in New York City, as Sam has described it to me. 

I asked another soldier about this, a Black White man. 

He was easier to talk to than the regular White Man. 

I asked him what he thought of the orientation and education. 

He said it was shit, and he spoke from The Heart! 

I thought about it a long time, and I knew he was right. 

The orientation and education was shit. 

When the men from the BIA come here to talk, it is the same. Shit. 

But let me tell you this: the Mohawk Nation is losing its soul. 

Soul is not like breath or blood or bone and it can be taken in ways no man understands. 

My grandfather had more soul than I have, and the young men have less than me. 

But I have enough soul to talk to Old Grandfather, who is a raccoon now. 

He thinks as a raccoon and he is worried about the raccoon nation, more than I am worried about the Mohawk Nation. 

He thinks the raccoon nation will die soon, and all the nations of the free and wild animals. 

That is a terrible thing and it frightens me. 

When the nations of the animals die, The Earth will also die. 

That is an old teaching and I cannot doubt it. I see it happening, already. 

If they steal more of our land to build that dam, more of our soul will die, and more of the souls of the animals will die! 

The Earth will die, and the stars will no longer shine! 

The Great Mother Herself may die!" 

The Old Man was crying unashamedly. 

"And it will be because men do not speak words but speak shit!"

Hagbard had turned pale beneath his olive skin. 

"You're coming into court," he said slowly, "and you're going to tell the judge that, in exactly those words."

Dark Babylonian Aspect

Angelus,
The Other Angel :
Hey Dawn — Yeah, it’s Me.

Is Your Sister Home...?

She is...?

The Angelus hangs up the phone, scowling with irritability

It’s The Other One .....

Hail, Lord Someone Else !!!

All Hail The Dark Overlords of The Universe !!!

WESLEY
A lot's happened. Not just Angelus. 

I've been—I've changed. 

I've seen a Darkness in Myself. 

I'm not sure you'd even begin to understand —

WILLOW
I Flayed a Guy Alive 

and 

Tried to Destroy The World.

[ Who Hasn’t? ]

WESLEY
Oh. So... 

(stands, doesn't make eye-contact) 

WILLOW
Darkness. 

Been There.

WESLEY
Yeah. Well, I never flayed... 

(seems sickened)  

I had a woman chained in a closet.

Dude?!? Seriously...?

NOT-Cool...

I Bet You Didn’t Even Think to Put a Bucket in There with Her....

FIVES

Our Lady :
Poor Tim Shaw.

The Wannabe Leader Who Has to Cheat Because He Knows He's Unworthy.

See, that's why I know you won't detonate.
Although, you could prove me wrong cos we're all capable of the most incredible change.

We can evolve while still staying true to who we are.
We can honour who we've been and choose who we want to be next. 

Now's your chance. 

How about it?

TZIM-SHA:
Who are you?

Our Lady :
Yes. I'm glad you asked that again.
Bit of adrenaline, dash of outrage,
and a hint of panic knitted my brain back together.

I know exactly who I am.
I'm The Doctor.

Sorting out Fair Play throughout The Universe.
Now please, get off This Planet while you still have a choice.

TZIM-SHA:
I Choose to Win.

(Tzim-Sha presses an activation button, and a few moments later drops his faceplate and starts to scream in pain.)

Our Lady :
Sorry. I removed those nasty little things from my friends - 

Swiss Army sonic, now with added Sheffield Steel 

- And I implanted them back in your creature.
Your transference wasn't just data, it was physical.

You got everything transferred to you, including FIVE tiny bombs.

You had a choice.
You did this to yourself.
Go Home.




Our Lady :
They'll be writing operas about our pointless deaths if we don't take drastic action right now.

The Damsel :
We're about to die?

Our Lady :
Oh, sorry, Yaz, I forgot you were there.
All going to be fine.
FIVE systems down, six minutes left on life support.
Are we doing this or what?


Our Lady :
Electromagnetic pulse. Basically fried their systems.
I reckon we've got about FIVE minutes before they reboot and recover.
See? Brains beat bullets. Come on.




Our Lady : 

How long did it take you to build this hotel?

ROBERTSON: 

FIVE years. 

We have FIFTEEN [ 5 +5 + 5 ] of these hotels throughout The World now.

ASTOS:
Two life-pods, portside and starboard.
Maximum FIVE per pod.
We're just within our occupancy limit.


UMBREEN:
Mum's Right.
This is Our Home.
We Stay.

Our Lady :
If you stay, you'll die.

PREM:
Go to the house.
Get anything essential, and get back here.

The Damsel :
I'll help you.

(Manish walks out to meet The FIVE Horsemen.)



The Damsel :
Hmm. Antique lamp.
Section triple nine double FIVE slash seven. [ #57 ]

CHARLIE:
Ten percent? 

They want us to be grateful that ten percent of people get to work?
What about the other ninety percent?
What about our futures?

Because without action, 

next time it will be seven percent, then FIVE, then one. [ #57 ]

BECKA:
Who dares interfere with this trial?
Thirty FIVE [ 5 X 7 ] witches we have tried,
and still Satan surrounds us.
We shall not be stopped!



The Elder :
Hey, Doc. I've done the old Pendle Witches Walking Trail.
Nobody ever mentioned Bilehurst Cragg.
Never heard of it. 

And she's killed thirty FIVE [ 5 X 7 ] people.


Our Lady :
Quite a blast, that.
Haven't had a hangover like this since the Milk Wars of Keston FIVE.

















The Elder :
I've always fancied the idea of Norway.
What bit's this?

Our Lady :
Don't know.
(eats some soil)
But twenty FIVE miles away, 

[FIVE by FIVE] 

there's an alpaca farm,
and gift-shop with a very low TripAdvisor rating. Soil?

The Elder :
I'll give it a miss, ta.


The Damsel :
You had a grandmother?

Our Lady :
I had seven, but Granny FIVE,
[ 57 ]
my favourite, used to tell me about the Solitract.
Cos in The Beginning 

- pre-Time, pre-Everything - 

all The Laws and elements and nuts and bolts of The Universe were there.

Light, Matter, Maths, and so on.

But they couldn't fit together properly, 

because The Solitract was there.

The Damsel :
So what is the Solitract?

Our Lady :
A consciousness, an energy.
Our Reality cannot work with Solitract energy present.

The most basic ideas of The Universe just get ruined.
 

Think of it like a kid with chicken pox
- nuclear chicken pox -
who wants to join in but always ends up infecting everyone else. 

Our Universe cannot work with The Solitract in it.

The Damsel :
Your gran told you this as a bedtime story?


Our Lady :
Only when I had trouble sleeping.

So, what did Our Universe do? 

It managed to exile The Solitract to a separate, unreachable existence.

The Solitract Plane.

And suddenly, 

Everything Makes Sense.

The Universe could finally work because The Solitract had been removed.

The Damsel :
Hang on.
Are you saying we're now on the Solitract plane?

Our Lady :
I wish I wasn't but I think I am.
I'm scared. Are you scared?
I'm genuinely terrified!

The Damsel :
This is a separate exiled universe that is also a consciousness.




Our Lady :
That's what Granny FIVE said.

A Conscious Universe.

She also said that Granny Two was a secret agent for the Zygons, but she seems bang on with this one.

But why?

Why has the Solitract copied Your World, including Grace and Trine, and built a doorway to Our Universe?

The Damsel :
When you put it like that, it sounds like a trap.





Not-Grace:
No!

The Elder :
What you mean, no?

(Rumble.)

Our Lady :
This World is falling apart because of us still being Here.
You and us are still totally incompatible.
Erik being here may have been manageable, but FIVE of us?

That's a lot more incompatible stuff!
You've gone over capacity.
You need to let us go now.






The Damsel :
More of those mineral samples.

PALTRAKI:
FIVE in total. I remember.





The Damsel :
The objects, why are they shaking?

PALTRAKI:
I remember.

Our Lady :
Yaz, what's happening? Oh. Why are they doing that?

PALTRAKI:
I remember what they did. 

FIVE objects. FIVE planets. 

 One weapon. They stole FIVE planets.

Our Lady :
That's not possible.