One of the themes of Kissed by the Dragon’s Breath is the power of the connections between people, as several of the characters are very much “in tune” with each other. It very much helped my reading of this book that I feel that I have such a connection with Caron Harrison. For instance, the first part of the novel is set in New Zealand, a part of the world in which I have family connections, to the extent that I first read Kissed by the Dragon’s Breath while on vacation there. Beyond this, Caron Harrison mentions and discusses in the novel two recent works of popular culture that Punked Books has published guides on: Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol, and James Cameron’s Avatar. Admittedly, as both these works appealed to a great number of people, this could just be a coincidence, but if so, then it’s a very pleasing one.

Indeed, I’d go as far as to suggest that Kissed by the Dragon’s Breath is much more exciting as a whole than The Lost Symbol, despite lacking the usual thriller plot line of a noble hero threatened by a Machiavellian villain. This is because Caron Harrison successfully brings to life how thrilling an actual New Age renaissance could be for its participants, as Kara Groves discovers and utilises her latent potential for the first time. Too much of The Lost Symbol was bogged down by overwhelming detail and less than stimulating discussions about humanity’s lost knowledge and wisdom. Caron Harrison develops similar themes in a far more thrilling way in Dragon’s Breath by featuring a heroine who steadily becomes more and more excited by New Age ideas and practices after her “epiphany” of seeing a “fairy’s face” in New Zealand. There are a lot of fascinating and imaginative ideas in New Age philosophy, so it’s not surprising that Kara and her new friends become so embroiled by it all, along with the readers of this novel.

Nevertheless, some of these New Age theories are so “far out” that they are difficult to accept. For instance, in my research for this review, I’ve been looking at the kind of the websites that Kara’s friend Martin would have found in his studies, and some of them make claims that are a little too incredible. For instance, one suggested that the Vikings came to New Zealand prior to Polynesians, and that they are thus the indigenous white people (Patupaiarehe) of Maori legend. Caron Harrison does point out that such views are incredibly and understandably controversial in modern New Zealand, due to the contentious issue of Maori land rights. While I share the current consensus of historians that the Vikings did make it to North America prior to Columbus, there’s no convincing evidence that they made it to New Zealand, and it would take a lot more than conspiracy stories of the destruction of such evidence by the Kiwi authorities to convince me. Any similarity in the design of Maori and Viking artefacts are wholly in the eyes of the beholder, methinks, as such works could have been independently created. Anyway, this is beside the point, because Caron Harrison suggests that such “fairies” could have travelled to New Zealand in prehistoric times by means otherwise than that of boat…

Many readers of Dragon’s Breath, sceptical of New Age philosophy like myself, may view Kara as being quite gullible at times, especially when she seems to think that it’s credible that the Ancient Egyptians made it to Australia. I also thought that the current power of the New Zealand sun was due to the diminishment of the ozone layer in the Southern hemisphere, and so the need to avoid sunlight would not have been a factor in the Patupaiarehe’s mostly successful attempts to stay hidden from view. Beyond practices such as saying “hello” to the fairies on the Isle of Man’s famed Fairy Bridge (which is admittedly a traditional Manx custom), Kara also seems to take at face value stories of witches being rolled down hills in barrels that academics such as Professor Ronald Hutton have convincingly deconstructed as being apocryphal. And the participants of Dragon’s Breath extrapolate the rather neat theory that folk tales of people being kidnapped by the fairies have transmuted into today’s accounts of alien abductions. However, Caron Harrison skilfully integrates scepticism of New Age philosophy into the plot, by having such concerns voiced by another of the main protagonists who is far from convinced, to the extent that it threatens what could otherwise be a very fulfilling relationship with Kara… So, while Kara embarks on her fantastic voyage of discovery, there is still very much a human element to keep her grounded, and her romantic dilemma is a potent addition to the plot.

Whenever the Dragon’s breath itself made an appearance, I was reminded of John Boorman’s fantastic version of King Arthur’s legend, Excalibur, specifically when Merlin summons up the dragon to assist Uther in his underhanded seduction of Igrayne, in this tale that also depicted paganism being ultimately superseded by Christianity. Despite a lack of gory battle scenes, Caron Harrison’s Kissed by the Dragon’s Breath is just as vivid and exciting, especially when the blessing provided by the dragon’s kiss is utilised for far nobler aims, with nothing less than the possible spiritual rebirth of humanity at stake.

I don’t think Colgan’s got all the Doctor Who details right. For instance, it appears to be alarmingly easy to smash the bulb on top of the TARDIS in Dark Horizons, while the plot involves the Doctor using a perception filter that is so powerful that he even forgets about his beloved ship. Admittedly, the Doctor has to do this to protect the TARDIS from an alien threat, but we’ve yet to see perception filters with this ability in the TV show. At another point, the Fourth Doctor makes a cameo appearance with K9 and an unnamed female assistant. And yet this “brown-haired girl” can’t be Leela or Romana (the Doctor’s companions along with K9 at this time) as she’s wearing a miniskirt, and so I believe that Colgan is mistakenly referring to Sarah Jane Smith, who never travelled with the Fourth Doctor in the TARDIS along with K9. Although there is a nice, subtle reference to the figure of the ‘impossible astronaut’ in the book.

Also, I don’t think that Colgan’s got the history right, as the inhabitants of Lewis at this time would most likely be Viking colonists, and so wouldn’t be wary of other Norsemen. It’s also unlikely that a ship going from Trondheim would need to pass by Lewis on the way to Iceland. (Yet, to be fair to Colgan, there was a popular, but now discounted theory, that the famous Lewis chess pieces were made in Iceland, so this is possibly why she included an Icelandic connection). It’s an intriguing thought that the Doctor could be Loki of Norse mythology. However, Loki didn’t shoot at anyone called ‘Edda the Bard’ with mistletoe (in tales told by a variety of wandering minstrels collectively called the Prose or Poetic Edda), instead he shot at the Norse god Baldr, so obviously this story has become garbled over time… “Knowledge is power” is more commonly attributed to Sir Francis Bacon than Pliny the Elder, yet to be fair to Colgan, the Doctor is fittingly vague about the origins of this phrase, since it could have independently occured to both Bacon and Pliny. The Aurora Borealis and wicker men were also mentioned in classical texts, a long time before the setting of this drama. However, I’m being a bit of a spoilsport here, since one must allow an author some dramatic license, or else no fiction would ever be written! Colgan has also added some original Norse oral poetry* in the text, which I thought was a very fitting touch.

As one might expect from a Jenny Colgan novel, romance is quite a powerful theme in Dark Horizons. Thankfully, the romance is between two humans (rather than anyone lusting after the Doctor), and Colgan plays her cards very well here. So well indeed, that it’s rather a shame that Dark Horizons isn’t accredited to “Jenny Colgan” rather than “JT Colgan”. This has possibly been done for contractual reasons, but it’s a shame nonetheless, as I’m sure Colgan’s regular readership would find much to enjoy in this book, even if they aren’t Doctor Who fans. (Naomi Alderman also acquired an extra initial in her name when authoring her excellent Doctor Who book Borrowed Time – Iain M. Banks has a lot to answer for!). Although Dark Horizons is very involving, and the best read of the ‘adult’ Doctor Who book range so far, it could have done with being a bit shorter and pacier. The basic plot is also one that is used in several other books in the BBC range, which revolve around a stranded alien(s) causing havoc on Earth. (This is what happens, Mr Moffat, when you veer away from stories about aliens hellbent on conquest!) Despite this, there is some wonderful extra intrigue in this novel concerning the fate of the Doctor’s son (or family) which made me think that Colgan could be party to some very special plotlines in series 7 and Doctor Who‘s 50th anniversary…

* I found some translations of the songs Olaf sings online. The first one, in chapter 23, is quite an apt description of the Doctor, and is text from The Wisdom of Odin:

He is truly wise
who’s travelled far
and knows the ways of the World.
He who has travelled
can tell what spirit
governs the men he meets.

And I believe that the translation of Olaf’s final song (in chapter 29) is:

Although not pray,
but do not sacrifice without measure,
the gift of waiting for a reply;
if not,
measures than those without slaughter.
So cut Tunde
before the birth of human beings;
He went up there,
when he returned.

However, I only thought it fair to Gareth Roberts that I should do my own research by rewatching the clips of the original incomplete Doctor Who serial, and by viewing various other attempts to present Shada as a whole story. Once I’d done this, I came to appreciate more the huge effort that Roberts has made to do justice to Shada, a serial that Roberts’ Afterword makes clear that Douglas Adams had no particular love for, due to the abandonment of his original idea, and the huge work commitments that he was under at the time. Roberts also makes clear that Adams wrote his TV and radio scripts, and his novels in different styles to accommodate the demands of each medium, and so while there is a wry humorous tone to Shada, it was never meant to be a laugh fest. Having written that, Gareth Roberts adds a great deal to the humour, especially the rather rude message that Salyavin left in his cell! It also has to be noted that Adams presented a rather novel twist to the cliche of a megalomaniac trying to take over the universe, by instead trying to make the universe become him. So, despite his huge workload, Adams was still capable of coming up with some ingenious twists for Shada.

This is the first novelisation of a televised (or should have been televised) Doctor Who adventure for a long time, and anyone hoping for a more or less straight retelling of the story, in the Target manner, will be disappointed, as BBC Books has allowed Gareth Roberts a far more extensive narrative style and book length. Indeed, Gareth Roberts’ Shada is the longest novelisation of any of the Classic Series’ adventures (back in the day, this would have been a real badge of honour!). Sometimes the combination of a Classic Series story rewritten from a New Series perspective does not work too well though, and I could have done without the suggested sexual derogatory remarks that casual strangers greet Skagra with when he first arrives in Cambridge. Admittedly, the BBC Costume department was a bit dodgy in the late 70′s, and so the space age suit that they made Christopher Neame wear was a bit too flamboyant, and did indeed look like something worn by the lead singer of the real band, Disco-Tex and the Sex-O-Lettes, as Roberts suggests. Yet this book is intended for a more adult audience than the Target novelisations were ever aimed at (presumably long-time fans that are aware of Shada‘s significance in the Doctor Who canon). In addition to this, Skagra did feel the need to change his clothes to blend in more in Adams’ original script, so I guess Roberts is justified with adding a hint of the casual homophobia that was more prevalent at the time that Shada was being filmed. However, I don’t if this is accidental or not, but one of Roberts’ additions to the story, Lady Scintilla, shares her name with a currently performing drag queen. If Roberts did this as a deliberate in-joke, then it rather jars with the more innocent tone of Adams’ script. Having written that, Roberts’ development of a suggested romance between Chris and Clare is a welcome addition to the story (love stories were rare in the Classic Series), as these two characters do rather pointlessly fizzle out at the end of Adams’ script. Indeed, Roberts’ bigger canvas allows him to do full justice to all the minor characters, and in so doing, he shows that the Doctor has a more merciful side to him than the time constraints facing Adams’ original script allowed. (Although one would have thought that Adams could have done this over 6 episodes also. Then again, 6 episode Doctor Who stories were always more unwieldy than the rather more satisfactory 4-parters, which were the traditional, perfect length for a Who adventure.)

There are more pleasing links to the New Series, with the mentions of the Corsair, Time Lord message cubes (which are both aspects of The Doctor’s Wife), the bunk bed in the TARDIS guest room (that Amy and Rory would later share), the idea that alien empires would rip apart a planet to get their hands on the valuable body of a Time Lord (just like The Impossible Astronaut), and the Doctor suggests that the book at the centre of the plot ‘borrowed’ Chris, rather than Chris ‘borrowing’ it, is rather like the idea that the TARDIS ‘borrowed’ the Doctor, rather the Doctor ‘borrowing’ her (as stated in The Doctor’s Wife). Roberts also provides a pleasing pointer to possible future plot developments when he tantalising suggests that Skagra finds out why the Doctor originally fled from Gallifrey, but this revelation, so eagerly awaited by Doctor Who fans, is of little interest to Skagra, and so we hear no more of it!

Gareth Roberts also includes many pleasing references to the show’s past. Perhaps the most subtle one is where Chris mentions the human concept of the “sophisticated idiot problem” of super intelligent computers blindly following stupid orders. However, this isn’t an Earth term, but one that Roberts has derived from the Doctor’s assertion in the 1974 adventure Robot that “the trouble with computers, of course, is that they’re very sophisticated idiots”. When Skagra does research on the Doctor, the material he summons up appears to be none other than the Doctor’s televised adventures, as broadcast by the BBC! Roberts also specifies that Skagra’s ship has a zero environment, much like TARDISes (as in Castrovalva), which also nicely plugs a hole in the plot into how the Doctor manages to so quickly turn Skagra’s ship into a TARDIS-like vessel – the Doctor is able to do this since the ship was inspired by Time Lord technology. The TARDIS food machine, which was first featured in the second Doctor Who serial, The Daleks, gets a pleasing mention here, although it’s not to Chris’s taste, and there’s a cameo from the legendary TARDIS swimming pool. Although Roberts does resist (perhaps wisely) the urge to include the image of a black obelisk pursuing the Doctor and Romana on the Cam, as this was a later intervention from 1983′s The Five Doctors. Roberts also utilizes some Doctor Who mythology that he devised himself, since the confectionary planet Barastabon was first mentioned in a Doctor Who short story that he wrote over a decade ago.

 As Gareth Roberts has stated, there are a few plot holes in Adams’ original Shada script, such as a permanent blue vortex appearing when Chronotis’ TARDIS dematerializes, as this is not behaviour that the Doctor’s TARDIS exhibits. Instead, while there is a momentary blue haze, Wilkin is then confronted by empty earth inhabiting the place where Chronotis’ rooms once stood instead. Roberts even provides an ingenious explanation as to why Clare suddenly develops a perm in Chronotis’ TARDIS in part of the story that was actually filmed! Beyond this, Roberts provides some much-needed exposition concerning where Skagra came from, and what motivates him. Roberts also brings the book, The Worshipful and Ancient Law of Gallifrey, to life, and in probably a far more effective way than could ever be done on TV at the time, as it shows several characters visions of the future, some more pleasant than others, which also provide some additional character development. It’s interesting that Douglas Adams was seemingly very preoccupied with books at this time, as the ancient and obscure Worshipful and Ancient Law of Gallifrey is a very powerful contrast to that other more famous book and futuristic book from Adams’ fiction, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (which Roberts pleasingly allows to make an appearance in his bid to clear up another plot hole, while omitting Adams’ own subtle reference of including a Ford Prefect car). Although he’s not as humorous as Adams, Roberts does provide quite a few laughs – I particularly enjoyed his wry joke about Status Quo.

During my research for this review, I came across Matthew Kilburn’s suggestion in The Tides of Time fanzine as to why Owen Chadwick, the Christian historian, was the only living scholar that the Doctor mentioned amongst Cambridge’s greats:

Romana’s ‘Who?’ suggests that this might simply be a Cantabrigian in-joke; Chadwick was vice-chancellor of the university when Adams began his undergraduate studies in Cambridge, and gained a reputation for conservatism and defending the integrity of the dons at the expense of the students. Chronotis, with his wish to have the conversation of students banned, is in part a personification of the way early 1970′s undergraduates regarded Chadwick. Chronotis’s public persona is a charade; as one gains experience, one realises that all projections of authority are such.

Although this does seem to be a rather cheeky reference on Adams’ part to one of his previous superiors! Matthew Kilburn’s suggestion that Adams could also be satirising natural law theory is very worth reading, as it provides a novel reading of Shada.

Gareth Roberts has also evidently done a great deal of historical research to ensure that he’s got the period details correct, such as his mentions of Skylab and Radio Moscow (although this could be nostalgia too, as Roberts was obviously alive at the time!). I was a bit surprised to read that Roberts wasn’t very knowledgeable about Time Lord lore, yet he does provide his own spin on Gallifreyan culture, as he presents a very ‘Imperial Rome’ kind of society that includes plebeians as well as Time Lords. Indeed, Shada makes you appreciate just how seriously Adams took Doctor Who, as he didn’t shy away from delving into the show’s past to provide substance for his tale, and he mostly gets it right (apart from the previously mentioned blue vortex error). Indeed, one wonders if Shada was an inspiration for Tom Baker’s final adventure as the Doctor, Logopolis, as that was also highly concerned with the threat of entropy?

So, having now gone through all the source material, I have now revised my initial appraisal of Gareth Roberts’ revival of Shada, and I now conclude that he has done a brilliant job, and that he is indeed a fitting apprentice to his very talented master. So much so, that I wonder now if anyone will dare attempt to produce a facsimile of The Worshipful and Ancient Law of Gallifrey? I guess that it would be difficult to manufacture paper that can’t be cut, and besides, such a book could be very dangerous in the wrong hands… The transition between Adams’ dialogue and Roberts’ is mostly seamless. Having watched the parts of Shada that were filmed, I can confirm that Roberts does get the Fourth Doctor’s voice right after all, since a lot of its power and quirkiness came directly from Tom Baker’s performance, which could cover up the few parts of Shada where Douglas Adams was evidently having a bit of an off day. Moreover, Roberts’ imaginative settings gloss over the rather poor set and cramped designs for the more futuristic locations for Shada, as obviously he isn’t working under the same budgetary constraints that the production team faced in the 1970′s.

There are many highlights in this book, of which the following were my favourites. It was great to see a depiction of the Doctor’s first encounter with Commander Strax, as a kind of Humpty Dumpty in a children’s rhyme. In the Day of the Moon section, there’s a nostalgic nod to the 1980′s children’s show Button Moon, although the fact that the fifth Doctor, Peter Davison, sung the theme tune, isn’t mentioned. The Curse of the Black Spot chapter details exactly how the Boatswain disappeared (since this was a bit complicated, it’s just as well that it didn’t appear in the finished episode). We also get an account of the many versions that Steve Thompson’s script went through (the story was originally set on land, as the production team couldn’t find a suitable boat!). There is an account of the real-life Avery’s adventures, which is enough to give a taste without going into hideous details that would be unsuitable for children. A real delight in The Doctor’s Wife chapter is a comic book illustration of the original (abandoned) opening scene, and Neil Gaiman divulges more details about the Corsair, confirming that Time Lords can indeed change their gender. The Rebel Flesh chapter reveals that the acid that was being mined in this story was for rechargeable fuel cells for the military. I was intrigued to read in the Almost People chapter that the Flesh Doctor was originally going to have a flashback to his first trip in the TARDIS with his granddaughter Susan… The Eleventh Doctor has consistently denied that he has any living children, which leads me to think that they or Susan will feature in a future adventure… The Brilliant Book places Madame Vastra’s London address as being in Paternoster Row, which interested me, since this was traditionally one of the British publishing industry’s main centres prior to the road’s destruction in the Blitz. There’s also an amusing playbill presented by a certain Henry Gordon Jago that will please old school Doctor Who fans. The Brilliant Book reveals the surname that Melody Pond adopted when she went to school with her parents in Leadworth was “Zucker”, which, appropriately enough for a woman whose favourite term of endearment is “Sweetie”, means “Sugar” in German. The Brilliant Book also points out that Mels changes ethnicity when she regenerates into River, thus suggesting that the Doctor could do the same (as well as changing his gender like the Corsair). In addition to this, the Brilliant Book confirms that the Cybermen that featured in series 6 are the original alien species that were last seen in 1988′s Silver Nemesis, rather than the ones that John Lumic created in the parallel universe. Another humorous highlight is the presentation of the Doctor’s application for his job at Sanderson & Grainger’s, in which he is perhaps a bit too honest.

At the end, there’s a very open interview with Steven Moffat, who declares that, “I’m not writing for diehard fans. I’m writing for the other 100% of the audience“, although as a self-proclaimed diehard fan, he (mostly) does all right by me. It’s fascinating to find out just how late he was writing the 2011 Christmas Special (with the interview for this book providing a welcome distraction from it). Steven Moffat, does however, provide a very reasonable explanation for why there’ll be less Doctor Who in 2012, since he thinks this ‘dark fairytale’ is more suited for the Autumn/Winter schedule (I agree). Although this does rather put the spanner in the works for any would-be Brilliant Book 2013, which is rather a shame, as the 2012 book promotes the show very well. I only spotted one real error (Rory’s Roman persona is mistakenly referred to at one point as “Roricus Pondicus” rather than “Roranicus Pondicus”), but this is a minor blip in an otherwise marvellous book.

In addition to our imprint Punked Books, we also have a children’s paperback imprint called Grimoire Books. The first book to be published via Grimoire Books is Stephanie Parker’s The Green King.

I’m very excited to announce that BBC Books are going to re-release more of the old Target novelisations in May 2012. The titles were chosen after a poll on the Doctor Who Facebook page, and consist of Doctor Who and the Tenth Planet, Doctor Who and the Ice Warriors, Doctor Who and the Day of the Daleks, Doctor Who: The Three Doctors, Doctor Who and the Ark in Space, and Doctor Who and the Loch Ness Monster.

I probably would have gone for some more of the illustrated books myself. I think the only real classic novelisation amongst these is Ian Marter’s Doctor Who and the Ark in Space, as he pulled off the exemplary job of adding extra sheen to an already masterful Robert Holmes script (as well as starring in the actual story as Harry Sullivan).

A few years ago, I was perplexed to have come across someone who was a fan of these Target Doctor Who novelisations, but who hated the TV programme. However, I can understand why, as these novelisations have all the power of the imaginative stories generated by the Classic Series Doctor Who production team, without any of the shoddiness of the poor visual effects that were a result of the TV show’s low budget.

Although Terrance Dicks’ novelisations varied considerably in quality (because sometimes he was literally churning them out), he did also add a great deal of new material to his books, just like Ian Marter. (Well, at least he did with the early ones). Indeed, Dicks did provide a bit of background material in Doctor Who and the Day of the Daleks, which added more grittiness to the cruel world that the Daleks created in the future. However, the original scriptwriters also did a very good job (mostly) of adapting their scripts into novels, so Brian Hayles’ Doctor Who and the Ice Warriors is very worthwhile checking out on this basis.

Of course, BBC Books have included introductions from some current well renowned authors, as they did last time. I’m particularly looking forward to Tom MacRae’s on Doctor Who and the Tenth Planet (the first Cyberman story), since MacRae did a sort of ‘Genesis of the Cybermen’ with Rise of the Cybermen/The Age of Steel a few years ago in the revived series. Another current series stalwart, Mark Gatiss, will no doubt be producing a suitably macabre and humorous introduction to The Ice Warriors. It’s also appropriate that Steven Moffat, the current showrunner, introduces The Ark in Space, since the writer of that story, Robert Holmes, was the script editor of Doctor Who‘s Golden Age, and thus his work provides the summit that the current production team should always strive to reach. There are also a couple of SF legends providing introductions, in the form of Michael Moorcock and Alastair Reynolds, who are no strangers themselves to the BBC Books Doctor Who range.

The Silent Stars Go By does take a long time to really get going. The banter between our heroes in the beginning also grates a bit, as it’s a bit inacurratesque and more than a little tiresome. Also, for a long time, The Silent Stars Go By doesn’t really hit the high notes achieved by Naomi Alderman, Jonathan Morris, and James Goss in the current Doctor Who books range, with the tone of this book being a lot more childish (although the action does pick up more later). Indeed, I suspect The Silent Stars Go By, being so redolent in seasonal imagery and references, could have worked better as an actual Doctor Who Christmas Special, as it would have been great to see the Ice Warriors back on-screen. And, much as I love Steven Moffat’s work, he does have a habit of getting too schmaltzy in his Christmas episodes (if the details leaking out about the 2011 one are to believed), and maybe too ‘Christian’ (since the 2010 special, A Christmas Carol, featured the “Christ the Saviour is Born” line from Silent Night, while the title of this book comes from O Little Town of Bethlehem). Indeed, since The Silent Stars Go By is so seasonal, it really begs the question of whether we really need 2 Christmas Specials this year?

Unfortunately, like the Morphans, it would seem that Ice Warrior culture is also in a state of decay, because although The Silent Stars Go By depicts them far in the future of any of their Classic Doctor Who adventures, they haven’t progressed at all. Since they’ve yet to appear on the revived series, the Ice Warriors haven’t been redesigned in either the prose or via Lee Binding’s cover illustration. Instead, they are mostly Klingon clones in this book, with Dan Abnett not daring (or maybe not being allowed) to even get to the bottom of what the Ice Warriors actually call themselves. Also, the Ice Warriors talk in the same hissing voice in this book that they utilised in the Classic Doctor Who adventures, which would be quite tedious if they are ever to appear in the revived series, as it was never all that audible. However, Dan Abnett does invent some new mythology, as the Ice Warriors call the Doctor Belot’ssar (which means “cold blue star” in their language) – yet, since this nickname derives from the far future, it’s unlikely to appear in any other adventures. Having written that, Dan Abnett does come up with a couple of nifty new facets for the psychic paper, neither of which (on the surface) actually helps the Doctor. Although the Ice Warriors are suitably menacing, their brain cells are revealed to be as thick as their hides in The Silent Stars Go By, and their thought processes are just as lumbering as their strides. Throughout The Silent Stars Go By, the Doctor states that the Ice Warriors are very pragmatic by nature, a notion that is somewhat dispelled by an ending that reveals that the Martians hadn’t spotted a very Mars-like planet nearby which could have saved them all the bother of attacking Hereafter.