12. The Fires of Vulcan

What happens when time itself seems inescapable?

Spring has finally arrived! It’s a glorious Friday afternoon, the sun warming me as I sit in the conservatory with a glass of wine in hand and my work laptop closed for the week. In the kitchen, my oldest friend is making spaghetti bolognese as a thank-you—for a few days, he and his son are staying with us after an unexpected twist of fate left them without a home. It’s a reminder of how quickly life can change, how sometimes events feel entirely out of our control. But even when the future seems inevitable, we still find ways to push forward—through small acts of resilience, through the kindness of others, through defiance in the face of circumstance.

It’s a theme that sits at the heart of The Fires of Vulcan. From the moment the TARDIS lands in Pompeii, the end is certain—the mountain will erupt, the city will fall, and, if the Doctor is to be believed, he and Mel won’t be leaving either. It’s all thanks to a throwaway line from The Talons of Weng-Chiang, in which the Doctor claims the TARDIS was once found buried in Pompeii. Steve Lyons takes that tiny bit of continuity and builds an entire story around it: if history has already recorded the TARDIS’s fate, how can they possibly escape?

It’s a brilliant premise, and what makes The Fires of Vulcan so effective is how it leans into that creeping sense of doom. Unlike many Doctor Who historicals, this isn’t about famous figures or rewriting history—it’s a disaster story, one where we know what’s coming. But rather than focusing purely on the impending eruption, Lyons takes the time to build a Pompeii that feels lived-in. This isn’t just a doomed city; it’s full of political scheming, casual cruelty, and desperate attempts at survival. Some of the secondary characters lean towards broad archetypes (the corrupt politician, the ruthless high priestess, the gladiator with a grudge), but the cast elevates them. Gemma Bissix shines as the calculating Eumachia, while Steve Kynman’s Murranus provides a more physical, brutish threat to the Doctor and Mel

And then there’s the heart of the story: Mel.

Let’s be honest—if you’d told most fans in the ’80s that Mel would one day be the emotional core of a gripping Doctor Who drama, they’d have laughed you out of the room. But The Fires of Vulcan does something remarkable. It pulls off what Big Finish excels at: giving overlooked characters the depth they always deserved. Just as they rehabilitated Colin Baker’s Sixth Doctor, turning him from ‘the angry one’ into a fan favourite, they give Mel a story that makes her shine.

Gone is the companion best known for screaming and doing aerobics; instead, this Mel is determined, defiant, and absolutely unwilling to accept defeat. She cuts through the Doctor’s resignation like a knife, refusing to believe they’re doomed, even as the eruption begins. Bonnie Langford delivers an outstanding performance, layering Mel with frustration, fear, and a steely resolve. It’s a joy to listen to, and it completely redefines her character.

Sylvester McCoy, too, is fascinating here. This isn’t the manipulative, chess-master Doctor we often associate with his era. Instead, he’s passive, convinced of his own fate, muttering cryptically as if he’s already given up. It’s rare to hear the Seventh Doctor so lost, and it makes his eventual return to action all the more powerful. The contrast between him and Mel is superb—she’s fighting against inevitability, while he’s resigned to it.

Comparisons to 2008’s Twelfth Doctor TV adventure The Fires of Pompeii are inevitable. Both stories are about the same disaster, but they take wildly different approaches. The TV version embraces Doctor Who’s modern timey-wimey mechanics, with the Doctor ultimately saving a family to ease his conscience. The Fires of Vulcan, on the other hand, is more fatalistic. There’s no grand moral debate, just two people trying to survive in a city that’s already lost. In some ways, it feels rawer, more intimate. And in 2000, before paradoxes became standard Doctor Who fare, I remember the resolution felt genuinely surprising, even if it wraps things up a little too neatly..

Big Finish’s production is top-tier, especially in the final episode. The eruption sequence is stunning—collapsing buildings, panicked crowds, the suffocating fall of ash… It’s as close to a Doctor Who disaster movie as you can get on audio, and it’s genuinely gripping. The sound design sells the scale of the catastrophe, making it one of the most immersive Big Finish releases yet.

Ultimately, The Fires of Vulcan isn’t just a historical drama—it’s a story about human resilience. It’s about fighting, even when the fight seems impossible. Listening to it now, in a moment of unexpected upheaval, it resonates deeply. Like Mel refusing to accept the Doctor’s fate, we’re reminded that life can change in an instant. But even in uncertainty, there’s hope—in small acts of kindness, in defiance, in refusing to give in.

And sometimes, hope looks like a home-cooked meal, a quiet Friday afternoon, and the knowledge that, for now, everything is OK.

---

Quick Take

The Fires of Vulcan is a properly gripping, character-driven historical that drops the Seventh Doctor and Mel into the heart of Pompeii just days before its destruction. Unlike many Doctor Who historicals, this isn’t about meeting famous figures or rewriting history—it’s a tense, atmospheric disaster story where survival is far from guaranteed. Steve Lyons crafts a richly detailed world, bringing Pompeii to life with political intrigue, personal stakes, and a creeping sense of inevitability. The sound design is stunning, especially in the final act, making the volcanic eruption one of Big Finish’s most immersive set pieces.

What really elevates the story, though, is its take on the Doctor and Mel. Sylvester McCoy plays a more subdued, almost fatalistic Doctor, while Bonnie Langford delivers one of her best performances—this Mel is determined, sharp-witted, and fiercely defiant. If you’ve ever written her off as just a ‘screamer,’ this story is here to change your mind.