Doctor Who: Veiled Memories - The History of the Doctor

VEILED MEMORIES
Chris McKeon

Chris McKeon
DOCTOR WHO: VEILED MEMORIES
Copyright © Chris McKeon 2009
‘Doctor Who’ series copyright © BBC Enterprises 1963
No copyright infringement is intended
Chris McKeon has asserted his right under sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This is a 100% unofficial, not-for-profit, fan publication
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SEPTEMBER 1969, UNIT HQ, LONDON, ENGLAND
‘SMITH. DOCTOR JOHN SMITH.’
Liz Shaw chuckled at the name spoken by the Doctor; it was just too common for
the unique and flamboyantly dressed man before her. He buttoned his indigo-blue velvet
smoking jacket and walked over to a long wooden table studded with complex scientific
equipment, one of many set up in the large, stone-grey bricked room, which was now to
serve as his laboratory. As the Doctor lifted a large Erlenmeyer flask filled with dark green
liquid, Liz joined him at the table’s edge and looked up at him.
‘Are we really supposed to believe that’s your real name’
‘Why not It’s simple, effective, and probably more imaginative than letting the
government’s top pencil pushers choose one for me.’
‘Yes, but will they believe it’
The Doctor put down the flask and turned to Liz.
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‘My dear, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about middle men is they always keep their
opinions neutral. Wouldn’t you agree, Brigadier’
The Doctor tucked his hands into the pockets of his dark grey trousers and threw a
wry smile over at the lean, beige-uniformed figure of Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-
Stewart, head of the British arm of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, standing
stiffly a few feet away with his hands behind his back. The Brigadier lifted his eyebrows at
the Doctor’s comment, assumed it was meant to be humorous, and permitted himself a halfsmile.
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’
‘My dear fellow, that’s the whole point.’
The Brigadier was unsure how to respond to this, so he decided to change the
subject.
‘Right then. I’d better get on the line to Ashbridge Hospital to inquire after returning
the vehicle you ‘borrowed’ from that specialist meant to examine you, Doctor; the sooner we
deal with him, the better.’
Lethbridge-Stewart nodded a brief farewell to both the Doctor and Liz, before
navigating his way through the crowded laboratory and exiting through the far wall door.
The Doctor turned around and walked to the Police Box standing tall in the centre of the
room. He reached out one hand, touched one of the battered box’s doors, and sighed.
‘Poor old girl. After so long together only to end up like this…’
Liz stepped over to the box and let her fingertips brush along its surface, which felt
just like regular painted wood to her touch. And yet only a short time ago this eccentric man
in velvet and ruffles had claimed it was his spacecraft, and had even stepped inside to fly it
away. Liz Shaw had always prided herself on being the least gullible person she knew, but
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when the Police Box had started to shudder with that hideous sound, and smoke billowed
out of its interior, she almost believed it was a ship of some kind. And then the next day
shop window dummies across the country had come to life and started a murderous
rampage to destroy the Earth. Now, Liz could afford to accept a little of the unbelievable—
and the horrific —in her philosophy.
‘I take it this box means a lot to you, doesn’t it’ she asked.
‘Oh yes, Liz. The TARDIS has been my home for…for a long time. And she’s been
a good friend.’
Calling an inanimate object a good friend. That’s still a little too far off the beaten path for me, Liz
thought to herself, but the Doctor was clearly a scientist of immense capability, possibly
more then her, so she could tolerate some of his more disturbing eccentricities.
‘And this…TARDIS’ It was hard to wrap her tongue around the word. ‘Is that its
proper title or just from the family’
‘My dear Miss Shaw, that is its proper name,’ the Doctor replied, his tone revealing a
trace of genuine offence.
‘All right then. And does it mean anything’
‘Of course. It’s an acronym, which stands for…for… My word, I used to know that
like the back of my mind, but now…’
For a moment the Doctor stood rigid before his TARDIS, his eyes narrowed and his
brow strained, as if he were trying strenuously to pull important information from some dark
crevice deep inside himself. Then his eyes clenched tight and he slammed his hand against
the TARDIS’ side.
‘Wretched ungrateful hypocrites! After all I’ve ever done for them…’
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‘Calm down, Doctor!’ The look of anguish and fury searing the Doctor’s face struck
her with concern. ‘Is this an effect of your memory loss’
‘Unfortunately, yes. What were once the simplest, most common-place facts and
details of my life are now lost to me, trapped away just beyond my mind’s reach.’
‘And you said ‘they’ did this to you, gave you this amnesia’
‘Of greater misfortune, yes.’
‘And who are they’
‘Oh, a very high and mighty and under-handed bunch, the T-…the T-…T-…’
Once again, the same strained look of mental stress creased the Doctor’s features,
but this time he retreated from the struggle more quickly, letting his head droop as he leaned
his very tall, very lean velvet-clad frame against the TARDIS’ wood panelling.
‘I’m sorry, Liz. It’s no use. I know I should know the answer to that question as
well, but…it’s as if a dark curtain has fallen over my memories, and I can only just peek
through, but each time I try, the curtains close.’
Liz walked over to a lab stool and sat facing the Doctor.
‘Well, my expertise isn’t exactly psychology, but it sounds to me if your memories are
being blocked in some way, not so much forgotten. You may want to look into some kind of
hypnotic therapy.’
The Doctor stepped away from the TARDIS and rubbed his neck absentmindedly.
‘Oh no, my dear. I can promise you nothing from your world can undo my mental
lock. No, that can only be done by those ones who locked it the first place, or…’
‘Or what’
‘Or I can find a way to pick the lock myself. Yes, I think that’s the best course of
action.’
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‘And how do you propose to start’
‘By the best means possible for such a course: Action!’
The Doctor strode over to the wooden hat stand in the corner of his laboratory,
tugged from the top hook his black cloak with red velvet underlining and flung it over his
shoulders. Liz watched him from her seat with a mild mix of amused puzzlement.
‘And where are you rushing off to’
‘To the wax museum, of course; UNIT’s already cleared up the Nestene’s traces
from the plastics factory, so the museum’s where they’ll head next, and if I need to stimulate
my mind then where better to do it than the scene of recent extraterrestrial activity Besides,
I’ve always wanted to see how humans clean up after my messes.’
Liz stepped off from the stool and dashed after the Doctor, who was already halfway
out the door.
‘Hang on! I’m coming with you; I need my mind stimulated too, you know, especially
in this military environment.’
The Doctor chuckled and a warm smile spread upon his face.
‘Quite right, Liz. We scientists should stick together, after all.’
‘But how are we getting over there’ Liz asked as they exited UNIT HQ and entered
its brick-layered garage.
‘The roadster, of course.’
‘Doctor, that’s not your car, remember’
‘Liz,’ the Doctor said, stopping in his tracks and staring straight at her with a frown,
‘that car has already been helpful in my saving your planet from destruction, and right now it
just might help me save my sanity from boredom. And really the idiot who owns it won’t be
any the wiser.’ Then he smiled once more. ‘Now are you coming or not’
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Liz stared up at the youthful yet aged face of this strange man, this man like another
on the planet, yet not of this world. An alien hidden in humanity. What choice was there
She smiled back.
‘Of course. But you’re driving.’
‘Liz, one thing you should know about me right away: I always drive!’
‘I assure you, sir, your vehicle has been kept safe during its…service, and we have it stored
securely at this moment. Yes, sir, we are well aware of citizens’ rights; we try to preserve
every day. Very good, sir; if you just wait one moment, a member of my staff will be on the
line to take your address for delivery. No, I’m sorry; where it’s been is classified information.
Well, I suggest you take with up with our Scientific Advisor. Good-bye.’
Lethbridge-Stewart switched off the speaker phone and allowed himself a brief smile
as he thought of the Doctor and the specialist Ashbridge Hospital had recruited to examine
him. Imagine the argument between those two… There was a knock at the door, which promptly
opened. Captain Munro, Lethbridge-Stewart’s second-in-command since shortly after the
Cybermen incident, entered the spartan office; he stood at attention and raised a firm salute.
The Brigadier smiled and stood.
‘Jimmy, you know there’s no need to stand on such formality; I’ve already authorised
your transfer to the regular army.
‘I know, but…I just want my decision to be taken well, sir-’
‘Nonsense. It was a request direct from General Scobie, well, the real one. Now that
he’s quite recovered he’s quite eager to have you in his division. Your presence could
strengthen our ties with his side of the military.’
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‘Actually, I meant I want my decision taken well with you, sir. I don’t want you to
think I’ve used you or UNIT as an advance to my career.’
The Brigadier drew himself up and looked directly into Munro’s eyes.
‘Captain Munro, I recruited you myself, and you have been an exemplary addition to
UNIT’s forces. Never forget that. But your life is your own, and how you choose to serve is
your prerogative. Just know you have sincerest appreciation, and my friendship.’
The Brigadier raised his hand in salute, which Munro returned with a grateful smile.
He spoke once more.
‘I realise my transfer won’t take effect until the first of next year, but General Scobie
has requested that I report to him today at 1200 hours for debriefing. I’d best be on my way.’
‘Of course. I’ll send a jeep for your transport.’ The Brigadier turned to his desk and
pressed a button on his phone system. ‘Lieutenant Hawkins To my office, please.’ A few
moments later, the young officer entered the room. He and the Brigadier exchanged salutes.
‘Ah, Hawkins. You know Captain Munro, of course. Would you be so kind as to go
down to the garage and bring around a jeep for him’
‘Absolutely, sir.’
‘Good. Oh, and Hawkins’ Lethbridge-Stewart said, just as the man as about to exit
the office, ‘When you’re finished with that, please bring around that car we’ve got stored in
lot B, would you I want its fanciness out of UNIT HQ and back to its owner as soon as
possible.’
Hawkins stood in the doorjamb, a perplexed expression on his face.
‘Is there something the matter, Lieutenant’ the Brigadier asked with a small frown.
‘No, sir. It’s just…you mean the red one with the narrow tires The one the Doctor,
our Doctor’s been driving’
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‘Of course, man, why’
‘Well, it’s just I saw him and Miss Shaw pull out of the garage about fifteen minutes
ago. I thought they were taking it back themselves.’
Lethbridge-Stewart’s expression hardened as he leaned over his desk and reached for
his swagger stick and cap.
‘Somehow, I doubt that, Hawkins. That’s all.’
Moments after Hawkins departed; the Brigadier placed his cap upon his head, a stern
look upon his face. Munro watched him with confusion.
‘Is something wrong, sir’
‘With this new Doctor, I can’t be sure, but if he’s out of my sight I want to know
why.’
‘Any ideas’
‘Yes, one: the wax museum where all the Nestene facsimiles were kept. This Doctor
seems to be a man of action and curiosity, eager to be right in the thick of events, and the
museum is where our lads are cleaning up at the moment. And that’s where I’ll be, too.’
‘Shall I come with you, sir’
‘No, Captain, but thank you. Your place with your new assignment and it’s best not
to keep that waiting. Good luck.’ He took a moment to shake Munro’s hand, and then
strode out of his office. Left behind, Munro took a breath, and pondered the future of
UNIT.
Between the Doctor and the Brigadier, I wonder if the boys will know who’s in charge.
‘Corporal Benton’
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At the sound of his name, John Benton turned to Private Thompson, a new recruit
from the Scots Guard, who stood at his side. They were both guarding the entrance to the
wax museum while Sergeant Yates led the clean-up inside the building of any remaining
Auton remains.
‘What is it, Thompson’ Benton asked, following the Private’s gaze.
‘There’s somebody driving up the lane towards us, sir. The car’s a wee bit strange.’
‘Come on. Let’s go see who’s driving.’
The two soldiers strode forward, Thompson with his rifle in hand, Benton with his
hand on his pistol snug in its holster. The red roadster sped into the car park and came to a
halt in the space directly in front of the museum’s entrance. Benton eyed the two occupants
seated within: The passenger was a young woman - rather pretty but with a definite chill
about her - with copper-coloured hair tied back in a stiff bun and wearing a light tan leather
coat with white moulded patches and a light-coloured skirt. The driver was a thin, middleaged
man with a bouffant of grey hair. He was dressed in a funny get-up of a dark blue
velvet jacket, trim grey trousers, and an odd white ruffled shirt with a dark velvet cravat. This
bloke looks like a right fop to me, Benton thought to himself as the man smiled up at him from
his seat and began to speak.
‘Corporal Benton, my dear chap. How nice to see you again.’
‘How do you know me, sir’ Benton asked, certain he had never met the fashionable
man in car before.
‘Why that’s easy, Corporal: we’ve met before!’
The Doctor threw open the roadster’s door and stepped out, extending his hand to
Benton with a friendly grin. Then he noticed the rank markings on Benton’s sleeve and
grinned in mild embarrassment.
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‘It’s me, old chap. I’m the Doctor.’
The Doctor At the sound of that name Benton felt compelled to grasp the hand
even as his mind struggled to catch up.
‘The Doctor But I don’t get it. You’re so…’
‘Thin’ the Doctor queried.
‘I’d say tall,’ Benton replied, very confused. Even though he had been deployed into
London during most of the Auton attack, Benton had received communication from the
Brigadier that the Doctor had returned to Earth, and had been helping to defeat the plastic
monsters. But this man standing before Benton was not who he had expected to come back.
The Doctor he remembered was a short, scruffy man with an untidy mop of black hair in a
big black coat. But this bloke’s almost as tall as I am, his clothes fit, his shoes are polished, and his
trousers don’t have holes at the knees. It’s gotta be a trick…
‘If you’re really the Doctor, answer me this: How did we first meet’
Without a moment’s pause, the Doctor responded,
‘When you arrested me, of course, after I’d left that maniac Vaughn’s International
Electromatics. I must say, you looked quite different in a suit.’
A smile slowly dawned upon Benton’s face. Who else could have known that It was
the Doctor; it had to be! Somehow that amazing little man had become even stranger, but
had saved the earth once more. Sure of his identity, Benton happily gripped the Doctor’s
hand.
‘Blimey, it’s good to see you again, Doc! Well, it’s good to meet you, too.’
‘Likewise. Oh my, but where are my manners’ The Doctor released Benton’s hand
and gestured to the young woman beside him, who had also stepped out of the car while the
he and Benton had been speaking. ‘Liz Shaw, Corporal Benton.’
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‘Pleased to meet you, Miss,’ Benton said as he extended his hand, which Liz
accepted. ‘I’d heard the Brigadier was calling in a scientist to help us. I’m sure you and the
Doctor will make a fine team.’
‘Thank you, Corporal,’ Liz replied with a genuine smile: it was a rare and gratifying
occasion to meet a man who valued her intellect over her appearance. ‘I hope so, too, if I
can keep up with him.’
‘It’s hard to do that, I know.’ Benton withdrew his hand and turned to the Doctor
once more.
‘By the way, those kids you had with you before, what were the names…oh right,
Jamie and Zoe. What are they up to now’
The Doctor’s eyes narrowed and his brow furled. He raised one hand and rubbed the
back of his neck. After a few moments, he spoke, with a voice subdued an uncertain.
‘I…I’m sorry. I don’t think I know anyone by those names. I’m sure I would have
remembered if I did…’ He shook his head, as if to empty it from within.
‘But I’m afraid I’ve come on business, Sergeant. I’d like to take a look at anything
Nestene in origin your troops have found inside the wax museum. We can see if everything’s
properly disposed of.’
‘Sure thing, Doc. Thompson here can take you the person in charge of cleaning up
the mess those dummies left behind. His name’s Mike Yates; he’s a Sergeant.’
‘I’ll be sure to look for him then,’ the Doctor said as he entered the museum before
Private Thompson could escort him. Left behind, Liz stole an amused glance at Benton
before following the Doctor inside. Alone with Thompson, Benton was left to wonder why
the Doctor had forgotten about his travelling companions, and was struck by how lost he
had seemed when trying to remember their names.
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‘This place certainly looks less frightening during the day,’ Liz said.
‘Yes, but it’s still rather dreary, isn’t it’
The Doctor and Liz were standing inside the wax museum. All around them UNIT
troops were bustling about in the middle of the main gallery hall, gathering various
mannequins and stuffing them into large, thick-walled metal crates. Only the previous day,
the wax museum had been one of the locations where the Auton leader Channing had stored
his facsimiles of key world and civil leaders in anticipation of the Nestenes’ main invasion
thrust. Now, with the danger past and UNIT making sure no lingering alien technology
remained, the museum had been cleared off all its exhibits and replicas, leaving for display
only empty walls covered with dusty cerulean blue velvet drapes.
‘I wonder if that’s the man in charge,’ Liz said, pointing over to the back of a tall,
thin young man in uniform. Closely cropped chestnut brown hair curled out from under the
edge of his cap. He stood in the centre of the room holding a clipboard; every few moments
various soldiers approached and spoke to him.
‘It looks like it. Let’s go find out, shall we’
With long strides, the Doctor walked over to the solider and without hesitation
spoke over his shoulder.
‘Pardon me, are you Mike Yates’
The man quickly turned around, revealing a long, clever face with blue eyes bright
with intelligence and confidence. Within the haze of his memory, the Doctor recognised the
young man as one of the many troops stationed on the UNIT heli-carrier during the
Cybermen incident, which he had seen but never met. At least there’s something I remember, just
like Benton and Lethbridge-Stewart. But why is it I can remember their faces – people I barely know – but
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not the most important things in my life…The Doctor broke away from his train of thought as the
soldier made a reply.
‘Yes, sir, I am. How did you get in here’
‘My friend Mr Benton let me in.’
Yates sighed. When will that man learn this is a secret organisation
‘May I see your pass’ he asked the Doctor, holding out his hand.
‘Oh not you too. When will the top brass of UNIT ever learn if you have the
qualifications you don’t need a pass to be allowed anywhere!’
Yates stood his ground and stared at the Doctor with an unflappable expression.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but this building is currently under UNIT jurisdiction, and only those
authorised by Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart may enter here.’
‘Oh, it’s all right, Sergeant Yates,’ said a man’s voice – aged and confident - from a
short distance away. ‘You see, I recognise this man from an earlier visit, and I can assure
you, he is who he says he is.’
The Doctor, Liz and Yates turned towards the direction of the voice and saw a short
man with white swept-back hair and matching goatee beard, dressed in a close-fitting dark
grey uniform with a high black collar, and decorated with silver buttons down the coat
front’s middle. The Doctor recognised the man as the museum’s curator, whom he had met
briefly during his investigations into the Autons’ invasion plans. Seeing the Doctor once
more, the curator smiled widely, revealing to rows of perfect, white teeth.
‘Thank you, dear chap. I’m glad someone here can see sense,’ the Doctor replied. He
turned to Yates. ‘Now, Sergeant. What have you found of interest here’
Yates glanced at his clipboard.
‘I have the full itinerary of alien artefacts recovered so far here -’
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‘Oh, how very kind of you,’ the Doctor said as he plucked the clipboard from Yates’
hands, studying its contents as he wandered the room, muttering the word ‘Fascinating’ now
and then. Watching the Doctor meander, Liz smirked and stepped near Yates.
‘If you ever get that clipboard back, you might want to make sure your rank’s not on
the discard list.’
Even as Yates shot Liz a dumbfounded expression, she began to wander herself,
scanning her eyes over the several open crates and boxes filled with various objects and
perfectly life-like mannequins – like corpses stuffed in metal coffins. Disturbed at the image,
Liz turned away from the crates and stepped back in surprise as she came face-to-face with
the curator. He smiled down at her.
‘Young lady, you seem uneasy.’
‘Is it that obvious I’ve never liked a mannequin, that’s all – they’re too much like
people.’
Liz studied the curator for a moment.
‘You, on the other hand, seem quite at ease with all that’s going on here. Aren’t you
at all angry the military’s barged into your business’
The curator chuckled softly, his eyes narrowing.
‘I have many other pursuits which occupy my time while they search.’
‘Well, I’m surprised they’re letting you stay here at all.’
‘I let persuasion be my guide. But now, young lady, perhaps you can assist me: I
wonder if you would be so kind as to take this object and place it amongst the crates I’d
take it myself, but I have an important matter to undertake.’
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The curator held out his black-gloved hand to Liz. In it was a small, silver circular
object with a ridged circumference and a flat underside. A single, light blue circle of light
pulsed in the device’s centre.
‘What in the world is this Or is it even from this world’ she asked as she studied
the object’s curious design.
‘Precisely, my dear. I found it just now in one of the back rooms; perhaps it’s
something your soldiers are hoping to catalogue.’
‘I don’t doubt it. Very well, I’ll take it.’
‘You’re very kind,’ the curator said, as Liz palmed the circle and walked back over
towards the gathered crates. Watching her depart, the curator raised one corner of his mouth
in a smirk.
She seems an intelligent woman, too much so for her own good. Much like the last one…
He watched Liz place the object on a pile of grey boxes containing plastic body
parts. The curator then raised his arm, pulled back his cuff to reveal a blue wrist-watch
studded with many buttons. He pressed one button and nodded.
Sixty seconds.
He then scanned his head across the room, stopping as his eyes fixed upon the
Doctor. The curator’s smirk bloomed into a full smile. He walked quickly towards him…
‘My word, what’s this’
The Doctor had stopped before a bulge in one of the vivid blue velvet drapes lining
the walls. He reached out his hand and tugged at the fabric, which pulled away to reveal a
tall, green rectangular metal box with a thin panel set into the side facing him. The Doctor
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blinked in shock at the box before him, not because its appearance, but from its presence. I
recognise this…
‘Have you found something of interest, Doctor’
Shaken from his agitated memory, the Doctor spun around to see the curator,
standing before him with a strange smile on his face.
‘What is this box I’m sure I’ve seen it before.’
‘Indeed. But I think a better question you should ask is what’s within the box. Step
inside.’
The curator pressed a button on his wrist-watch and the front panel on the box
lurched open along a top and bottom extension with an unsteady mechanical whine.
‘What is this’ the Doctor said, even as a shadow of a memory tickled the edge of his
mind.
The curator’s arm whipped up. In his hand he brandished a small, black tube.
‘I suggest you do as I say as quickly as possible, Doctor; your young friend has just
placed a conversion device amongst UNIT’s inventory which will cause all plastic within this
building to explode within the next fifty seconds, and there is a lot of plastic present. If you
value your life, you will enter the box.’
The Doctor made a move forward but the curator stabbed the tube towards him.
‘You know what this weapon is capable of, Doctor. Don’t tempt me. Forty-five
seconds.’
The Doctor did not know the capabilities of weapon, though somehow he knew he
once had. He was trapped; how could he get to the bomb in time Suddenly, he saw
movement at the museum’s entrance, and saw the Brigadier and Benton step through the
door. They caught sight of the Doctor. The Doctor made his decision.
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‘Brigadier, Corporal, get everyone out!’ he shouted. ‘There’s a bomb!’
Without hesitation, the Brigadier ordered the UNIT personnel out of the building.
They all began to rush out through the various exits. Distracted by the confusion, the curator
turned his body away from the Doctor ever slightly, more than enough for the Doctor to
land a kick squarely on his chest. The curator stumbled backwards, but amazingly managed
to keep on his feet. The Doctor was about to escape when he saw Liz hurrying towards him.
Before the Doctor could warn her away, the curator side-stepped, gripped her by the arm
and held his weapon at the side of her head.
‘Inside, Doctor, now!’ he yelled, just as a high-pitched wailing screeched from the
crates; the plastic objects inside began to shimmer, like heat on a summer’s day. The time
was gone; there was no choice. The Doctor backed into the box through the open access,
following by the curator, still holding onto Liz. The doorway closed behind them, cutting off
all light…
‘Is everyone out of there’ Benton asked Yates as they and the other soldiers stood catching
their breath at the far edge of the carpark.
‘Yes, we’re all safe. I was the last to leave.’
At that moment, the Brigadier, having made sure his other troops were safe, hurried
over to Benton and Yates.
‘Where are the Doctor and Miss Shaw’
‘You mean they didn’t come with you, sir’ Benton asked.
‘No, Mr Benton, they did not,’ the Brigadier replied, his voice grave. Benton turned
towards the museum, his face twisted with worry.
‘We’ve gotta go find them -’
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Suddenly a piercing whine rent the air, and blistering waves of heat made the air
shimmer. Then the ground began to shake.
‘Too late!’ the Brigadier cried. ‘Down!’
All of the soldiers flung themselves down to the ground at the Brigadier’s order. A
split-second after, there was a blinding white light and the wax museum disintegrated in the
force and sound of a tremendous detonation. Thick black smoke and charred debris
darkened the air and sky above…
Smith. Doctor John Smith…I’ve lost my memory…What do you think of my new face…Oh no, that’s me
at all…A deal. There’s always a deal…I not only admit my interference, I’m proud of it…They’re my own
people…You see, I’m not the cold-hearted villain you suppose me to be. My motives are purely peaceful…We
are two of a kind. We were both…
The Doctor awoke within oppressive darkness. What had he been dreaming; the words had
almost pierced the veil. We were both…It was gone.
‘There’s no trace of either the Doctor or Miss Shaw, Brigadier,’ Private Thompson said, his
face and uniform blackened with soot and ash. Flanked by Benton and Yates, the Brigadier
stood with arms folded at the centre of what remained of the wax museum, which was little
more than a scorched pit thirty meters wide, strewn with burnt fragments of wood, fabric
and mortar.
‘Until you find something that confirms the Doctor and Miss Shaw are alive or not,
Private, you will continue the search. Is that understood’
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‘Yes, sir,’ Thompson said as he rejoined the other troops. The Brigadier watched as
the young man departed. He knew he was venting his frustration on his men, but that was
the best emotion he could afford to show at the moment. Inside, he was furious with
himself for not keeping as close a watch on the Doctor as he ought; now, because of his
negligence, two people – one a valued friend - may have been lost forever.
At that moment, Private Thompson’s voice called out for the Brigadier. He had
something to show him. Several seconds later, after the Brigadier, Benton and Yates had
traversed the rubble covered terrain, they gathered around a spot of ground Thompson had
discovered: a long, rectangular patch of earth untouched by the explosion.
‘You see, sir,’ Thompson explained, ‘it may not be much in itself, but it’s the only
place in the blast zone that doesn’t look like it’s part of a blast zone. And that’s another
thing: obviously there was an object, maybe some kind of box standing here. But where’s its
debris’
‘Wait a minute,’ Benton said as a realisation dawned on him. ‘Sir,’ he said, addressing
the Brigadier, ‘When you and I came into the museum, I saw the Doctor talking to the
owner of the place, the…the…’
‘The curator,’ Yates interjected with a slight hint of exasperation in his voice.
‘Right, that bloke. Anyway, they were standing in front of a big green box. Metal, I
think, and there was some kind of door open on one side of the box, too.’
‘Corporal Benton may be onto something, sir; the last I saw of Miss Shaw was of her
running in the Doctor’s direction, towards that green box,’ Yates said, his expression even
yet alert.
‘And the Doc didn’t look too happy talking to the old bloke,’ Benton muttered with
sincere concern.
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‘And all this happening right after the Autons invaded…’ the Brigadier muttered, a
plan of action forming in his mind. ‘Benton, Yates, come with me. Thompson, continue the
search.’
With Benton and Yates at his side, the Brigadier turned around and walked out the
blast area, past the charred remains of the red roadster he had promised to return to its
owner (one emergency at a time), and stopped at the UNIT jeep which he had driven to the
museum.
‘What are we gonna do, sir’ Benton asked as the Brigadier opened the jeep’s door
and sat in the passenger seat.
‘You, Corporal, are going to drive me back to UNIT HQ. And from there, we’re
going to launch a full-scale search for the Doctor and Miss Shaw. If the Nestenes, or
whoever might be in league with them, have them, we’ll search them out!’
‘Are you awake, Doctor’ the curator’s voice spoke, echoing in the darkness.
‘Since I can hear you, obviously,’ the Doctor replied. He was lying on his back upon
what felt like a smooth metal surface. The curator’s voice spoke once more.
‘I see your sarcasm is sharper this time around. Good. I always enjoy our exchanges.’
‘Look, why don’t you come out and end the theatrics; it’s a far more efficient means
of communication.’
A bright white light activated over the Doctor’s head. He blinked once and as his
eyes adjusted to the sudden illumination, he discovered he was lying in a large square room;
every surface was grey, smooth and reflective without any discernible means of entry. Or
escape. The Doctor stood and reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a small, wand-
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shaped tube with a curved, clear end. He suddenly realised he had done this without
thinking, and he stared at the odd-looking object in his hand with surprise.
‘What’s this thing supposed to do’ he muttered to himself.
‘You really don’t know, do you’ came the curator’s voice from behind him. The
Doctor spun around. The curator was standing directly in front of him. Up close, he seemed
considerably taller then before.
‘How did you get in here’ the Doctor asked; there were still no visible doors on the
walls.
‘Now don’t be inconsequential, Doctor. What’s important is you really don’t know
what that device is, when it should be as familiar as an old friend. They really changed you,
didn’t they I wonder…’
The curator reached up with one hand underneath his chin, and tugged, pulling away
the skin of his face (a rubber mask, the Doctor thought, how pedestrian) to reveal another,
completely different one: that of a much younger man with thick black swept-back hair
streaked with a thin line of grey down the middle, which capped a darkly handsome,
chiselled face, highlighted with piercing emerald eyes, a proud nose, and a confident mouth
framed by a thin, long black moustache which travelled - without quite touching – from the
centre of his upper lip to the sides of his chin. Two, very long sideburns, each shaved like a
doubled-pronged knife, completed the striking image of the man standing before the
Doctor. He smiled wide, as if in anticipation of a long-awaited moment.
‘Do you know me now, Doctor’ the curator said in a much younger and stronger
voice.
‘I’m afraid I don’t. I can honestly say I don’t know you from Rassilon. My word,
who’s that’
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‘No matter, Doctor,’ the man who had been the curator said evenly, although his
eyes betrayed a measure of disappointment in the Doctor’s lack of recognition. ‘Allow me to
introduce myself. I am the Master, and I am…your friend.’
‘I should never have joined UNIT,’ Liz grumbled as she sat up from the floor where she had
lain. Her head throbbed with dull pain as she rubbed her temples with her forefingers. She
stood and examined her surroundings; she was inside a large metal-walled room filled with
strange hanging curtains attached to the ceiling. Upon closer examination of the curtains, Liz
discovered they were filled with finely woven circuitry.
This is incredible technology, far beyond current Earth development. But the size of this room…it’s
so much big. It’s too big. Where am I
She remembered being dragged by the curator into a green metal box, following after
the Doctor. The door they had passed through had shut behind them; the lights had gone
out. Then there had been the sound of a man’s voice, telling her to relax and listen carefully
when he would speak his name to her, and then there as a rush of acrid-smelling air as she
had lost consciousness.
It must have been some kind of anaesthetic, Liz concluded, perhaps triggered when the doorway
shut behind us. But why is this happening Who is this curator And what does he have to do with the
Doctor
Liz glanced over at the circuitry-sewn curtains once more, and noticed that the
material inside was glowing with a bright yet diffuse light. Liz also noticed the temperature in
the room was rising…
‘It’s just like my TARDIS!’
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The Doctor shrugged off his cloak and marvelled at the large, darkly-lit woodpanelled
room in which he stood. The Master had released him from his cell through a well
concealed passageway, and had brought him to a place he called the Console Room. The
Doctor admired the fine craftsmanship of the walls, especially the carved wooden roundels
and stained-glass windows.
‘I see you still remember your ship’s name,’ the Master said as he watched the
Doctor pace the room. He was standing at a six-sided brown control tower in the centre of
the room, studded with orange and purple buttons.
‘Yes. I remember the ship. I remember its presence. I remember its name. But not
what it means.’
‘It’s an acronym, Doctor, which stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space.
Quite a clever expansion.’
‘And how did you get this ship’
The Master chuckled, shaking his head like a teacher having to guide a slower
student.
‘My dear Doctor, most Time Lords receive them as gifts. They help to make us who
we are.’
‘‘Time Lords,’’ the Doctor repeated, placing his hands in his pockets as he faced the
Master. ‘Yes, that’s who we are, the name of our people. And did they exile you, as well’
The Master frowned, his face darkening with anger.
‘That and worse, Doctor. While they have merely condemned you to remain on one
planet in one time – which is a grievous sentence in itself for one such as us - they
imprisoned me.’
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‘On what charges’ the Doctor inquired. He was still far from sure if he could trust
this man claiming to know him.
‘For reasons much like yourself, Doctor: interference with the outside cosmos,
although we called it improvement.’
‘We I was there with you’
‘Ah, yes. Forgive me, my friend; I underestimate how much the Time Lords wiped
from your memory. But, you see, we two, you and I, both fled our home world for very
similar reasons: Unlike the rest of our people who were content merely to observe and
remain aloof from the workings of the Universe, we aspired to make a difference, to
improve what we saw. Of course our government forbade such actions, and threatened to
move against us. We barely escaped with our lives.’
‘So we travelled together, you and I’ The Doctor stood listening to the Master’s
story with rapt attention.
‘No, separately. We arranged to meet at your TARDIS and escape, of course, but an
overzealous Cardinal managed to discover our plans. He succeeded in capturing me, but not
before I warned you. You only left just in time.’
Dark images of fear and running flashed across the Doctor’s mind. He saw himself
fleeing towards his Ship, but there was another… He shook himself from his fleeting
memories and addressed the Master once more.
‘And you were left behind then, powerless to escape.’
‘Oh, you underestimate my skill for survival, Doctor. No, I also was able to flee, but
not without cost. I was forced to depart without my TARDIS.’
‘Then what’s this then’ the Doctor said, gesturing about the Console Room.
The Master smiled proudly.
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‘My own modification of a space/time capsule. I call it a SIDRAT.’
‘TARDIS backwards Oh, how very droll.’ If the Master had been his friend as he
claimed, the Doctor was beginning to question the company he kept; the Master was quite
an unimaginative fellow, and arrogant to boot, unlike himself.
‘I lacked the time to consider a more inspiring alternative.’ An edge of frustration
sharpened the Master’s words, but he kept his tone even. ‘In any case, after many years of
parallel wandering, you and I finally discovered each other on a beautiful planet without a
name.’
A nameless world…The Doctor saw a world in his mind, but not in its beauty, but
instead a decay-ridden sky hanging over a lifeless, battle-scarred landscape stretching before
him, strewn with churned mud scarred red with blood from broken bodies…
‘What happened there’ he asked.
‘The planet was caught in a freak temporal collapse; its people were doomed to an
agonising and eternal death. We struggled bravely to save their lives, but the disaster was
beyond even our powers to avert. So…we decided to call for help from the one source we
knew could, and the worst possible. We called upon the Time Lords.’
‘And did they decide to save the planet and its people from their catastrophe’
‘Of course not. They are sworn to keep their hands clean from such trivial matters.
But they were quite keen to apprehend two long-missing renegades.’
The Doctor’s hands clenched in righteous anger. An entire world lost because of
unfeeling hypocrisy! And yet, even as his anger burned, the Doctor was unsure if it was the
Time Lords he should condemn, or if the Master was trustworthy.
‘So,’ the Doctor stated, ‘the Time Lords captured us, sentenced me to exile on Earth,
and you…what happened to you’
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‘I was sentenced to permanent incarceration on a prison asteroid. Not a enticing
proposition, so during transit, I summoned my ship and escaped once more. I’ve been
looking for you since. It was only days ago that I detected your arrival on Earth coincident
with the Auton invasion. Knowing that where a threat was, you would follow, I set myself
up as the museum curator to be sure to cross your path.’
‘While you were crossing, you might have taken the time to help me defeat the
Nestenes.’
‘I couldn’t risk exposure, Doctor, not with the Time Lords certain to be monitoring
your arrival so closely. Besides, I trusted your abilities.’
‘Like my memory,’ the Doctor stated. ‘And I have a very clear memory of you
threatening my life and several others! Is that friendship between Time Lords’
The Master stepped from the console and walked to the Doctor. He held out his
gloved hands as if in apology.
‘I truly beg your forgiveness, Doctor, but you must understand, I could not be sure
what changes to your personality the Time Lords imposed when they forced your
regeneration! When I suspected your memory had been altered and saw the depth of your
current persona’s…character, I judged a small show of force was the best means to speak
with you alone.’
‘At the cost of several innocent soldiers’ lives, including my good friend Brigadier
Lethbridge-Stewart’
‘Doctor, I am your good friend. And as your friend, you must believe me that the
device I claimed was an explosive was merely a technological trick, nothing more. I would
never harm innocent lives.’
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The Doctor rubbed his neck, not completely convinced, but swayed somewhat
nonetheless by the Master’s words.
‘Well, I grant you allowed enough time for the soldiers to escape.’
‘Exactly. And they would have been completely unharmed even if I hadn’t.’
‘Well, even so, I’d like to see for myself that there was no damage done to the
museum and that the UNIT troops are all right.’
The Master spread his hands with a sheepish smile.
‘Once more I must apologise, but this machine is merely a pale copy of a true
TARDIS; it is old and functioning on minimal power. A side effect of its age is a severe
limitation of its navigation capabilities. I’m afraid once we’ve left one location in space/time,
we cannot return. ‘
‘Yes, that’s very much how my TARDIS used to be. My word, I’ve done it again.’
‘And how fortuitous for me that you have, Doctor; for you know I’m telling you the
truth.’
The Doctor permitted himself a half-smile.
‘Very well, perhaps you are. But that doesn’t answer why you’ve brought me here, or
what you’ve done with my assistant, Liz Shaw!’
The Master smiled and put an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders.
‘Miss Shaw is perfectly fine; I have her safe in a waiting room. But to answer your
first question: I’ve brought you here so that, together, we can quietly slip into your dreary
UNIT’s HQ, repair your TARDIS and leave this backwards planet to its own devolution.’
The Doctor slipped out from under the Master’s arm and placed his hands on his
hips in excited scepticism.
‘You have the means to restore my TARDIS to its proper working condition’
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‘Well, even if the proper working condition of your TARDIS always left something
to be desired, yes, I have, provided the Time Lords haven’t robbed you of your knowledge
of how to pilot the Ship.’
The Doctor pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck once more.
‘I’m sure they haven’t gone that far.’
‘So, Doctor, shall we proceed’
The Doctor paused for a moment and considered the Master’s offer: If what he was
telling him was true, then he had a chance for freedom within his reach. But there was too
much of the story he was missing: his own side. But there was a way to find out. He decided.
‘Well then, Master, why not’
‘Excellent,’ the Master said, as he returned to the console and began tapping a
sequence of controls on one of its wooden panels.
‘Wait a moment,’ the Doctor cried, striding over to the panel. ‘What about Liz I
want to see her.’
‘And you will, once we’ve landed. The SIDRAT’s engines have deteriorated such that
they leak massive amounts of chronic radiation throughout most of the ship. But don’t
worry; she’s in a secure area. That’s why I’ve kept her waiting, for her own sake.’
‘But why not just bring her here, if it’s also safe’
‘And make her ask us so many unnecessary questions By leaving her alone, I’m
doing us both a favour. If it will put your mind at ease, I can establish an audio-link so you
can speak with her.’
‘Yes, I would appreciate that very much.’
‘Very well.’ The Master pressed a blue button on the console. There was a highpitched
chime and then the Master inclined his head towards the Console.
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‘Can you hear me, Miss Shaw’
‘Yes, I can,’ Liz said as soon as the amplified voice echoed all around her. She looked
towards the ceiling but could see no speaker grills. Then the voice spoke again.
‘Wonderful. I am the Master. Please listen to me carefully. Don’t be afraid, just relax
and listen to my voice.’
The Master’s voice was so calm and soothing; it made Liz want to listen, only to
listen to his voice, to listen to his voice, his voice…
‘I’m listening,’ Liz said. Her voice was now calm and unvaried.
‘Good. I’m going to put the Doctor through now. You will be able to hear him, but
not see him. Now I’ve assured him you’re safe where you are, but feel free to answer any
question he may ask you as you normally do. Do you understand, Miss Shaw’
‘I understand.’
There was a pause and then the Doctor’s voice echoed throughout the room.
‘Liz Are you there’
‘Of course, Doctor. You can hear me.’
‘Yes, of course I can. Are you feeling all right in there’
‘Perfectly, it’s actually very pleasant in this room.’ Sweat was beading on Liz’s brow;
her breathing was deepening.
‘I’m grateful to know. Anyway, this may sound difficult to believe, but we’re still
inside the green box; it’s actually a space/time ship. We’re in flight at the moment.’
‘A flying box Don’t be ridiculous, Doctor.’ Liz blinked slightly, as if she knew it
was not as ridiculous as she was saying.
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‘Quite. Well, we’ll be landing very shortly back at UNIT’s headquarters. Now this
ship’s leaking dangerous radiation as it travels, so you’re in that room for your own safety,
but we’ll let you out as soon as we arrive, all right’
‘Just let me know when we’ve got there.’
‘See you then, Liz.’
The Doctor’s voice faded away and Liz stood completely still for a moment, staring
blankly ahead. Then she blinked several times and her eyes cleared. Her brow furrowed; for
a moment she thought she had heard the Doctor’s voice. Then she swayed on her feet and
clutched at her head with her hands. She suddenly felt very ill…
‘We’ve landed.’
The Master studied a read-out on a display screen set onto one of the console’s
panels. He nodded in satisfaction. The Doctor stepped up beside him.
‘And where exactly have we landed’
‘Come now, Doctor. Do you doubt my piloting skills; they’re impeccable. We are
within the London headquarters of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.’
The Master depressed a control and a wood panel on the wall facing him and the
Doctor slid open to reveal an image of the Doctor’s TARDIS standing within a room filled
with scientific equipment arranged on several tables.
‘You recognise your laboratory, of course’ the Master asked. The Doctor thought he
detected a faint mocking tone in the question.
‘How could I forget’ the Doctor replied. ‘I’ll go fetch Liz now, if you don’t mind.’
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‘Oh I rather do, Doctor. You see, the radiation leakage I spoke of takes some time to
disperse. It will be a much better use of our time if we go to your TARDIS now and attempt
to repair its systems. That way, once we are finished, it will be safe to collect your assistant.’
The Doctor stared at the Master and smiled.
‘Yes, my dear chap, you’re quite right. We can come back later.’
The Master motioned politely towards a door, towards which the Doctor made to
exit, before stopping in his tracks.
‘Oh, forgive me, my cloak.’ He walked back over to the spot on the floor where he
had let the cloak fall, leaned down and picked it up, before standing between the Master and
the console as he took his time swinging the garment over his shoulders and fastening it
together. At the doorway, the Master stood in growing impatience.
‘If you are quite finished, Doctor…’
‘Yes,’ the Doctor answered, turning around with a charming smile. ‘Yes, I’m ready to
go.’
The Doctor strode out of the door; the Master followed close behind, a scowl upon
his face.
‘I don’t like the decoration of this place, Doctor,’ the Master said, sneering at the
construction of the Doctor’s laboratory as he stood ramrod straight in the centre of the
room.
‘I admit it may not look much,’ the Doctor said as he reached into his coat pocket
for the TARDIS key. ‘But for humans it’s quite attractive.’
He removed the key in his pocket, and handed it to the Master, who looked at it with
suspicion.
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‘This is not the key to the TARDIS, Doctor.’
‘No Good grief. Let me see.’
The Master held out his hand with the key in his palm. The Doctor looked for only a
moment before answering,
‘Oh, you’re right. It’s just the key to the roadster I borrowed. How silly of me – here,
I’ll take it back – HAI!’
The Doctor gripped the Master’s hand and with a sweeping motion of his arm flung
him down to the floor in a heap.
‘A Venusian vertical thrust. I haven’t forgotten that!’
Leaving the Master senseless on the floor, the Doctor then spun around and hurried
back through the SIDRAT’s still-open passageway. He crossed the threshold, rushed to the
console, and began activating the systems he had scrutinised while he had taken extra time to
put on his cloak. He needed to find a life-form detector, where was it He knew the Master
would recover from his fall within moments; he had to act quickly. The Doctor’s eyes
fastened upon a translucent convex panel pulsing with soft light upon one of the console’s
panels. Somehow, he knew what this was: a telepathic circuit. Could he risk mental contact
with an unknown machine, especially one belonging to a person he instinctively distrusted
But he had to find Liz within an unfamiliar ship, and a telepathic trace would be the quickest
means to find her, so whose safety was more important: his friend’s or his own
The Doctor chose the former and placed his hands upon the circuits and his mind
stretched and shredded, the darkness hiding his deeper thoughts burnt and boiled away just
as he heard footsteps and saw a man’s shadow fall upon him and the console from behind:
the Master, shouting
‘Doctor!’
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Doctor. I am…I remember lying back in the grass on a warm summer’s night seeing purple green and
brilliant yellow daisies draining into cold hard colourless days of endless dead knowledge without wisdom
lacking feeling defiant and daring to challenge the society turning against us running away from the darkness
towards the unknown outside but not alone Susan Ian Barbara Vicki Steven Katarina Sara Dodo Ben
Polly Jamie Victoria Zoe Serena we’re back in history Jamie one of the most terrible times on the planet
Earth…I remember…
You may have changed your appearance, but I know who you are.
Oh do you
Your machine is a TARDIS. You’re too familiar with its controls to be a stranger.
I had every right to leave.
Stealing a TARDIS Oh, I’m not criticising you. We are too of a kind.
We most certainly are not.
We were both Time Lords, and we both decided to leave our race.
I had reasons of my own.
Just as I had.
Your reasons are only too obvious: Power!
How much have you learned of our plans
I know you’ve been kidnapping soldiers from the Earth from various periods in its history and bringing
them here to kill one another.
But do you realise our ultimate objective
No objective is worth such slaughter!
The War Games on this planet are simply a means to an end. The Aliens intend to take over the entire
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galaxy, a thousand inhabited worlds!
But why use the people of the Earth
They are the most suitable recruits for our armies. Man is the most vicious species of all.
That simply isn’t true!
Consider their history. For a half a million years they’ve been systematically killing each other. Now we can
turn that savagery to some purpose. And you can help. You see, I’m not the cold-hearted villain you suppose
me to be. My motives are purely peaceful.
I’ve heard that before, from many others with the same ambitions as yours.
Perhaps so. But you can trust me, Doctor, because I am different, because you know me. I am the Master
and I am your friend—
‘It’s over!’
The Doctor tore his mind away from his memories and fell against the console, his
knees buckling. He felt hands grip his sides and support him as he finally collapsed. With
sluggish awareness, he felt himself being turned around and lowered to the ground, his back
resting against the console. The Doctor blinked and shook his head to clear his vision, and
saw the Master crouched before him, a curious yet knowing look in his verdant eyes, staring
deep into his own.
‘You remember now, don’t you, Doctor’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Everything’
‘Not everything, but the darkness over my memory is clearer. But I remember you,
Master, and everything you did.’
The Master leaned back and sighed, a sneer tugging at his mouth.
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‘I thought I was very convincing in my congenial approach.’
‘Oh, you were, don’t doubt that. You’ve always been silver-tongued.’
‘A mutual trait, Doctor. But what made you doubt me’
‘A small, but important detail: when you said I left our home alone, you forgot to
mention that my granddaughter came with me. I could never forget her.’
The Master chuckled, shaking his head.
‘Ah yes, I always overlook your little one. It seems the Time Lords did as well.’
‘Yes. But you…I thought you’d died back there, on at the Aliens’ planet. I heard you
screaming as they shot you.’
‘Yes, but you never bothered to check if I was actually dead, did you Of course, nor
did they. But I survived; I always do. But I was sick, barely alive from their attack on me. I
nearly regenerated and this intrigued their scientists, so they took me back to their home
world as a curiosity. It was a long time before I could escape.’
‘Their world was removed from history by the Time Lords.’
‘As I said, Doctor, it took a long time to escape, even for some one of my brilliance.’
‘Really I wouldn’t rate yourself that highly; the Time Lords found you eventually,
after all. I remember now…I was there when they finally brought you back, ready to lock
you away for good. You looked halfway to death.’
‘Those were very trying years.’
‘They say they found you unconscious at Drachensburg, 1940, buried the remains of
a castle flooded with nuclear radiation. Care to explain that’
The Master smiled and stood.
‘Now I’m afraid I must claim some lapse in memory for that occasion, Doctor. But
suffice it to say I was investigating various means to heal my wounds, and a fault in the
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primitive facilities available to me destroyed my base of operations. On a more positive note,
however, exposure to the nuclear radiation somehow healed my body, and restored me
completely. Unfortunately, I was captured thereafter.’
‘But now you’re out again, eager to trace my movements.’
‘Well, I felt I should pay you a visit.’
‘And kill me, of course.’
‘Oh, naturally, Doctor. Your interference in the War Games may have served to
intensify my pursuit against you, but my interests in engineering your destruction had been
left unsatisfied long before you and your dreary TARDIS ever arrived on that worthless
world. In a way, I’m actually glad you came there. You restored unto me the most satisfying
purpose in my life.’
The Doctor stood, keeping his hands upon the console behind him for support.
‘You know, for someone with such simple goals, you really have an overly-complex
way of achieving them. I mean, if you’d wanted to kill me it would have been far better just
to have done so in the wax museum.’
‘True, but I needed your TARDIS; this SIDRAT has cheated death for far too long.’
‘But you haven’t got my TARDIS, have you And killing me now, in the heart of
UNIT HQ, will only get you the close attention of an entire army. Did I tell you I’m their
Scientific Advisor The Brigadier would demand a confession from you in triplicate.’
The Master smiled and reached into his pocket.
‘How fortunate I have your TARDIS as a means of escape.’
‘Are you deaf as well as thick,’ the Doctor said incredulously. ‘You haven’t got the
key.’
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‘You mean this key, Doctor’ the Master replied, brandishing the TARDIS key
between a gloved thumb and forefinger. ‘I removed it from your pocket after you broke
from the telepathic circuit. You don’t think I helped you to the ground for your health’
The Doctor took a step forward before the Master opened his other hand, revealing
the same black tube he had used in the wax museum.
‘I’m hoping you recognise this now, Doctor.’
‘Yes. Your Tissue Compression Eliminator, or TCE. Condenses matter to a compact
size, killing it if it’s living. Very vicious.’
‘Wonderful! You know the acronym. It’s always best to keep things simple in life,
don’t you think And now it’s time to simplify your life, and sweeten mine, forever.’
The Master aimed the TCE at the Doctor’s hearts. He smiled.
‘Goodbye, Doctor.’
The Doctor reached behind himself and slammed his hands upon the telepathic
circuits, transmitting a psychic charge throughout the Console Room. The Master blinked
rapidly, his aim wavering for a split second. The Doctor leapt to the side; the Master fired,
the energy blast struck the console, splitting open its casing, which spilled forth fire and
smoke from with the torn base.
‘No!’ the Master shouted as he rushed to the flaming console, dropping the TARDIS
key as he hurried forward, which the Doctor caught in his cupped hand before the key hit
the ground. The Doctor turned and watched the Master struggling to salvage the SIDRAT’s
controls, and felt a penetrating heat upon his clothes and skin. Chronic radiation, the
Master’s blast must have somehow caused the time-charged particles to flood into the
Console Room. The Doctor was about to exit the inner door when he remembered: Liz!
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The Doctor’s thoughts raced through his mind. He could remember the general
layout of the SIDRAT through his partially restored memories, but like the TARDIS, the
SIDRAT had a potentially infinite space in which to hide a person, so where could he find
Liz Wait, he realised. Now I know the Master hypnotised Liz when he spoke to her over the audio link,
so she would tell me she was safe. The Master was telling me about the chronic radiation flooding the ship
then, so he must have wanted me to think she was safe because he must have put her somewhere where the
radiation could get to her! And where’s the one place the radiation would surely be The generator room!
‘You murderer!’ the Doctor shouted to the Master. ‘If Liz dies you’ll answer to me!’
Without waiting for a response, the Doctor rushed from the room and raced through
rusted grey corridors, the soles of his Italian shoes striking against corroded metal floors. A
crackling blue-white and green mist was forming in the air; the ship’s distress was altering its
architecture!
At that moment the Doctor stopped in his tracks as he found the doorway to the
generator room. He activated the door mechanism, and the entryway slid open. In the centre
of the dark room, Liz lay unconscious upon the floor, sweat beaded upon her brow. The
Doctor hurried over to her, saw that she was breathing and checked her pulse. She had
absorbed some chronic radiation from the generator curtains, probably while the SIDRAT
had been in flight, but thankfully not enough to cause permanent damage. The Doctor
gently rubbed Liz’s face, calling her name. She woke up.
‘Doctor’
‘I’m here, Liz. Can you stand and walk’
‘I think so; but I feel nauseous.’
‘That’s the radiation leaking. Come on.’
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The Doctor lifted her to her feet and began helping her out of the room. Suddenly,
there was a deep, humming vibration within the room. The Doctor and Liz turned around
and looked at the generator curtains; they were glowing fire red.
‘The Master’s activated this ship’s time engines! And with its core damaged, it really
will flood with temporal radiation within minutes! We’ve got to get out. Run!’
Not wanting to be carried, Liz hurried alongside the Doctor and followed his lead as
they raced through long corridors, now burning and twisting with a red light. And then the
walls started to collapse.
‘Hurry, Liz! Almost there!’
The Doctor and Liz raced through the doorway to the Console Room. The room
was choked with a blood red fire and black smoke.
‘I can’t see where to go, Doctor,’ Liz cried, her voice weak and hoarse. She was
succumbing to the radiation once more.
‘It’s straight ahead, only a few meters forward! I’ll take you.’
The Doctor removed his cloak and draped it over Liz’s face to protect her from the
smoke. He then took her by the hand and they both walked forward. Dark shadows and
shapes shifted through the belching smoke and flames. Then a heavy weight slammed into
the Doctor’s back, driving him to the ground. Liz, still covered in the Doctor’s cloak, fell off
to the side. Shaking to clear his head, the Doctor turned face-up. Through eyes streaming
from the soot and smoke, he saw the Master looming over him, his wild eyes and livid face
shadowed in the fire light like a mask of demonic fury.
‘You’ve ruined everything again, Doctor!’
‘I rather think you’ve caused your own troubles,’ the Doctor answered.
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‘I faced death and won, Doctor, all to see you die before me. Just to see that happen
today will be success enough.’
The Master lifted the TCE, chuckled with delight, and then growled in rage as Liz
flung the Doctor’s cloak over his head and pushed him away. The Master stumbled
backwards and fell against the broken console, which exploded upon impact in a thrust of
blue-white light. The Master screamed in tortured agony as the light covered his body and
caught it aflame, lighting his skeleton from beneath his clothes and the Doctor’s cloak. The
Doctor rushed over to Liz, who watched in horror, and shielded her face as he looked on for
her. The Master’s body was being flooded with chronic radiation directly from the
SIDRAT’s time core. There was no way to survive such an injury. He was doomed, and so
were they if they lingered any longer in the dying ship.
The Doctor turned and led Liz out through the exit door, leaving the Master to his
fate. For a moment, however, just as the Doctor turned away, it almost looked as if beneath
the cloak there were two skeletons, separate yet fusing together…
‘Doctor! Miss Shaw!’
It was the Brigadier. He and Benton stood outside the SIDRAT, weapons at the
ready. Several other UNIT soldiers were stationed at various points around the laboratory,
rifles drawn and pointed at the green box’s entrance. Yates guarded the exit. As the Brigadier
waved away the smoke billowing from the box’s open entrance, Benton led first Liz, then
the Doctor, to nearby stools, where waiting medical officers wrapped them both in blankets
and administered oxygen masks.
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‘We’ve been looking all over for you and Miss Shaw, Doctor,’ the Brigadier said,
standing near. ‘We thought some surviving Nestenes may have kidnapped you, and were
preparing to mount a full-scale search.’
‘But how did you find us’ Liz asked, her voice wheezing slightly and her skin very
pale.
‘One of the lads saw smoke coming from the laboratory, Miss Shaw,’ Benton said,
handing her a glass of water. ‘Imagine our surprise when we saw another box inside.’
The Brigadier smiled down at the Doctor, relieved his friend had returned.
‘It’s good to have you back, Doctor.’
‘Thank you, Brigadier,’ the Doctor spoke thorough the plastic mask covering his
nose and mouth. ‘Liz and I have been through a difficult time while we were away, but I
think the danger’s passed—’
The Doctor shot to his feet and tore the mask from his face. His eyes widened in
shock. Bright light was pouring out from the SIDRAT’s entrance, releasing burning shafts of
fire…
‘Brigadier, that’s the build-up to a lethal radiation discharge! Get that door closed
now!’
‘Benton!’ the Brigadier shouted, as he and the Sergeant heaved their full body weight
against the metal door slab, which slowly retracted under their advance, until finally, with a
last rushing of sound, like a ferocious growl of great monster, the door closed. Immediately
afterwards there was a muffled concussion from within the box that rattled its sides, as if a
great fire were being extinguished from a lack of fuelling oxygen. Then the SIDRAT’s green
metal exterior quickly mottled, rusted and blackened, until the entire hull collapsed in upon
itself until only a crumpled irregularly-shaped mass remained. Wisps of icy smoke curled up
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from the machine’s cold remains. The Doctor slowly walked over to the metal carcass, stared
at it sadly and shook his head.
‘The poor fool.’
‘’Ah, good morning, Doctor.’
The Brigadier strolled into the Doctor’s laboratory the next day, looking fresh and
cheerful. The Doctor was standing on the spot where the SIDRAT had decomposed, a
blank expression on his face.
‘Morning, Brigadier,’ he muttered.
‘How’s Miss Shaw’s recovery coming’
‘She was exposed to a moderate amount of the radiation in that machine, but she’ll
be fine. Time, in this case, is the literal cure.’
‘And you How are you getting on’ The Doctor had been rather withdrawn since
his return, as if he had lost something. The Doctor looked at the Brigadier and smiled.
‘I, Brigadier, had better be getting on with my work. Much as I appreciate your
world’s hospitality, I intend to leave as quickly as possible.’
The Doctor walked over to the nearest table and began calibrating his instruments.
The Brigadier smiled in admiration at the strange alien before him, and turned to leave,
before one last thought came to him.
‘Oh, by the way: who was that man who kidnapped yourself and Miss Shaw – what
was it she called him…the Master’
Without turning around, the Doctor said,
‘Oh, don’t worry about him, Brigadier. We’ve seen the end of him.’
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As the sound of the Brigadier’s departing footsteps went out through the door and
their echo died away, the Doctor put down his test tubes and looked back to where the
SIDRAT had been. He remembered what he had seen within the light streaming out of its
open door, a dark figure reaching out to him…
‘But I won’t be too sure.’
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EPILOGUE ONE
‘HERE WE ARE. GO AHEAD AND PULL IN, THOMPSON.’
The cool early morning breeze fanned Benton’s face as he and Private Thompson
stepped out of the UNIT lorry. They were transferring the remnants of Nestene technology
to the Black Archive Vault, UNIT’s recently established repository for alien artefacts.
Benton reached the back of the vehicle and threw open the tarpaulin covering. Amongst the
many creates and boxes was the dull green-coloured crumpled husk of the Master’s
SIDRAT.
‘Right, we might as well get rid of this box-whatsit first. I’ll go get some radiation
suits just in case.’
Benton turned and walked around the corner of the Vault’s warehouse nearest the
parked lorry, where a small hazmat facility was located for the handling of dangerous objects.
Just as he set down his rifle to input his access code into the side building’s hatchway,
Benton heard what sounded like metal grating on metal, then an odd buzzing sound from
the direction he had come. There was a brief cry of pain. He snatched up his rifle and
hurried around the corner. Thompson was gone, and in his place in front of the back of the
lorry was a man dressed in tattered black clothing, standing with back towards Benton.
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‘All right you, hands up! Turn around slowly.’ If this was that bloke who kidnapped the
Doctor and Miss Shaw…
The man complied, lifting his hands – he wore dark gloves – above his head and
turning slowly to face Benton. But instead of an old man with white hair, the person who
stood before him was middle-aged with swept-back wavy black hair edged with white at the
temples, with a full black goatee beard also tipped with white at its corners. The man’s sallow
complexion contrasted sharply with his piercing black eyes. Benton then remembered that
Miss Shaw he told him that the curator had been disguised, and had helped him draw a
description of his true appearance. Benton reached into a pocket and pulled out a paper with
the face of this man – the Master – but although there was a definite resemblance between
the image on the paper and the man in front of him, they were clearly different. Certain this
was not the same man; Benton pocketed the drawing and lowered his weapon.
‘I’m sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.’
The man smiled and lowered his hands.
‘I can assure, young man, that there is only one of me.’
‘Maybe, but I have to ask you who you are and what you’re doing here.’ The fellow
looked and sounded like a proper gentleman, but his burnt and tattered clothing looked as if
he had gone through hard times.
‘Oh, I’m part of the maintenance staff, of course. Meister is my name. I’ve recently
arrived from Germany.’
That explains the odd accent, Benton concluded, but I’d have thought he looks more Spanish
or Italian than anything. Maybe Turkish…
‘But another delivery’ Meister said, inspecting the lorry’s contents. ‘You’ve been
bringing us a lot curious finds lately.’
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‘All part of the job. But have you seen the lad who came with me A thin Private
with dark hair.’
‘I’m afraid the young solider in question ran away moments ago through the main
gate. Perhaps he’d had enough brushes with the unknown for one lifetime.’
‘Well I’d better get after him. You’ll take care of this lot until I get back’
‘Of course Corporal… Benton is it Please make sure you catch him.’
‘Oh, no worries, sir. I always catch my man.’
Benton smiled and hurried out through the main gate to get after Thompson, but of
the Private he could find no trace. He returned to the lorry, hoping to ask Meister if he had
seen which direction Thompson had taken outside the main gate, but he was gone as well.
Resigned he would have to transfer his cargo alone; Benton decided to go back and retrieve
his radiation suit. He halted in his tracks and stared at the lorry’s back bumper, horror
hollowing him from within. Sprawled on the bumper was a doll-sized body dressed in a
UNIT uniform, with the uniform markings of a Private. Suddenly, everything was very quiet.
The cool early morning breeze fanned Benton’s face, drying a single tear as it fell
down his cheek.
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EPILOGUE TWO
OCTOBER 1969, CIA HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C., UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
‘THANK YOU, GENTLEMAN, THAT WILL BE ALL FOR TODAY.’
Control remained seated in the low-lit conference room as his subordinates rose
from their seats around the large table and walked out of the room. After the last to depart
had shut the door behind him, Control sighed and rose from his seat, dusted down any stray
specks from his non-descript grey suit and tie, and walked over to his window behind his
desk to stare out at the night time skyline of Washington, D.C.
‘What a boring existence,’ he muttered, studying his on reflection.
‘Then perhaps I can surprise you.’
Control gasped in terror and spun around to see a swarthy man he did not recognise
with dark hair and a goatee beard, dressed in a black Nehru-style jacket complete with white
cuffs joined with black links, pressed black trousers and immaculate black leather gloves.
‘Who are you’ Control asked as he reached to press the security button on his desk,
hidden on the underside of one corner.
‘Oh, have I startled you, Control Have I got your hearts beating fast I imagine the
right is racing a bit quicker than the left, but that’s of course normal for people like us.’
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Control stared at the man who knew what no one could know, and then he
understood, gulping on his fear.
‘Master. You’ve regenerated.’
‘Yes, an unnecessary change, but one I welcome. I’m rather enjoying my new suit.
You can stop hovering over your security system; I’m here to conclude our business.’
The Master reached across Control’s desk and lifted a large carved crystal bottle
filled with dark amber liquor.
‘Taking to the bottle, are you Don’t tell me life is so stressful for you, in these plush
accommodations’
‘My responsibilities are heavy. Now what do you want’
‘To report on the success of my first mission as your CIA agent, of course. And I
can summarise it quite simply: the Doctor has arrived safely on this planet, his TARDIS is
inoperative as planned, and he cannot leave.’
‘Good,’ Control breathed, lowering himself into his seat. ‘You don’t know how
difficult it was tracking him down again. We should never have reunited him with that
McCrimmon boy.’
‘I’ve told you all many times; the Doctor is not to be underestimated, especially
when he is powerless. And you are underestimating him, even now. Why else should the
Agency have arranged my release to keep watch over him’
‘It’s not the decision I would have made.’
‘Well, given your record, you’re fortunate the Agency permits you to make decisions
at all. But, that’s neither here or there. What should be here is my reward for my services. So,
if you please’
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Control sighed and opened a compartment both invisible and several inches above
his desk. From within the unseen pocket, he retrieved six identical transparent squares,
which he pieced together to form a box. This box he held between his fingertips as he closed
his eyes and pursed his lips, as if whispering. Then the box shimmered with light, and with a
soft grinding vibration it dissolved. A moment later, a varnished black oak door materialised
upon the wall closest to the Master, who smiled at its arrival. Control stood from his desk
and walked over to the door.
‘As agreed, we have returned your TARDIS to you, fully operational and with its
key.’
Control pointed to the small key resting within the door handle’s lock. He then
gripped the handle and opened the door, which revealed a vast space beyond.
‘As you see, Master, it’s real. The Celestial Intervention Agency keeps its promises.’
The Master smiled with pleasure at the sight of his TARDIS, standing mere feet
from him.
‘I thank you. This is a long-awaited day for me; I haven’t seen my Ship since when I
first fled our home. It’s a strange feeling not to have one’s TARDIS; one I feel I must teach
you.’
The Master hefted the liquor bottle from Control’s desk in one hand lobbed it
through his TARDIS’ open door. Control cried out in rage and tried to race after it, but the
Master had already trained his TCE upon Control’s chest. The Master chuckled.
‘If you’re going to hide your TARDIS properly, you mustn’t disguise it as something
anyone can pick up.’
‘How dare you’ Control shouted, his thin face looking as if it were about to collapse
inward. ‘That’s my personal property!’
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‘Oh come now, you should know that with the Agency nothing is personal, but only
business.’
‘But this wasn’t part of our deal!’
‘Of course not, you unimaginative cipher. I’m concluding our business, and therefore
I’m withdrawing myself from my service.’
‘No one ever leaves the service of the CIA, no one! You’re bound to us forever! If
you kill me in your escape attempt, the Time Lords will find out and hunt you down, and
even if you spare me, nothing will stop me from informing them of your treachery.’
‘Perhaps so, but then nothing will stop me from informing them of yours. After all,
I’m sure both your CIA superiors, the Tribunal, even the High Council themselves, would
be very intrigued to learn of your interests in talking tin boxes.’
Control’s entire body seemed to sag as the Master’s calm-spoken threat deflated his
resolve. The Master nodded his head in satisfaction, walked over to his TARDIS, and
stepped across the open threshold. Just as he was about to close the door behind him,
Control spoke.
‘It doesn’t matter if we keep our silence; they’re rising even now, and soon they’ll
overrun us all. I’ve seen it: the timeline where they dominate everything. No one believes it
will happen, but it must. One day everything we know, everything we are, will be gone,
unless we do what we can to survive. That’s why I help them; I’m keeping myself alive in the
best way I can.’
‘Then I suppose that’s the difference between you and I: you attempt to survive,
while I am sure to rule.’
With a final chuckle, the Master shut the door behind him. Then the door opened
just a crack and the Master’s voice spoke through.
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‘Oh, if you must have an agent, take my advice: recruit the Doctor. After all, no
matter what the reason, he’s desperate to get off this miserable planet, and you’ll always
know where to find him.’
The door closed at last. Moments later, there was a smooth mechanical trumpeting,
and the Master and his TARDIS, with Control’s own within, disappeared from sight and
departed the Earth.
For a little while.
THE HISTORY OF THE DOCTOR
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