From: pih@doc.ic.ac.uk (Paul Ian Harman) Newsgroups: alt.drwho.creative,alt.ql.creative Subject: Doctor, Samuel Beckett (Part Seven) Date: 11 Jan 1995 13:46:46 -0000 Organization: Dept. of Computing, Imperial College, University of London, UK. Message-ID: <3f0ng6$ohk@oak64.doc.ic.ac.uk> ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Doctor, Samuel Beckett ---------------------- or A Leap in Time -------------- by Paul Harman ============== Part Seven ~~~~~~~~~~ Two figures sat in a darkened room, playing chess. A swift glance at the board revealed that neither was in a commanding position. Perhaps they were both master chessplayers, perhaps they both had something on their minds, or perhaps both. Certainly, the figure in Black seemed to be a little pre-occupied. "You know that the Doctor cannot succeed, my friend," he said to the other figure. "We shall see," he replied. "I see no interference from you." "It is not necessary. Your Doctor is as good as dead, his mind cannot last much longer trapped in the human frame. He is cold. Similarly the human is in a body with far too great a blood temerature and pressure. He will not last long, in fact I am surprised that he has lasted this long." "Well, humans have an amazing capacity for change, you know. More so than most other creatures." The figure in white considered for a moment, and decided that he should play fair. "Your move, and you may be interested to keep a more watchful eye on your freelance workers." "What do you mean?" the black figure asked. "No! It cannot be! That blunderer will ruin everything!" "What are you to do? I dare say it puts you in a rather tricky position, wouldn't you say?" The White Guardian took the black queen with his bishop. "Damn you. Damn all of you!" "Listen to my every word, Doctor Beckett. I want you to..." the Master began. He felt a strange sensation, akin to dizzyness, come over him. "No, sir, anything..." he began, and then stopped. He shook his head slightly, and looked around, uncertain of where he was. He looked down at the figure below him. "Hello?" he said, in a voice with seemingly less power than before. There was no response from Sam. The Master waved his hand in front of Sam's eyes - no response. `He must be hypnotised' he thought. He clapped his hands in front of Sam's face, and Sam came out of his trance. "Er... I don't think we've met," Sam said. "I'm the Doctor, and you are...?" he asked, reaching out and shaking the Master by the hand. "Doctor?" asked Gooshie, watching the aged scientist working on the holographic projection. He seemed every day of his eight centuries old. The Doctor ignored the question, oblivious to all except the terminal in front of him: the terminal that was his lifeline. He needed the Zero Room, and soon, if he were to live much longer. He was nearly finished. "It is... done." the Doctor said, and collapsed into the wheel-chair in which he was sitting. One of the orderlies took him away and prepared to give him the best medical care that the twenty-first century could provide. But would it be enough? "Al - prepare to send the hologram." Gooshie said. Al picked up a microphone. "I feel really daft doing this..." he said. "Alia!" Sam said, as the image of the Master dropped away and revealed the face of his unwilling opposite. "Sam...?" she replied. "I thought you were..." "Yes, And I you. Look - we've got to get out of here. I haven't got much time to explain. THese people are alien, and our bodies are not..." "Are not what?" "Shoosh! I can hear voices!" Sam said. "Who?" she asked. Sam waved at her. `Well, _I_ can't hear anything' she thought. *Sam?* came the voice. "Al?" *Yes, it's me. You can only hear my voice because we haven't got much power left. And the Doctor and Gooshie have re-wired the Imaging Chamber.* "What am I supposed to do?" Sam asked. *Go back to the TARDIS, and there...* Al replied, before his voice faded away. "And there _what_, Al? Al?" "Who was that?" "My guide. Come on, I've got to take you with me..." "Where?" "Never mind, come on!" The Master opened his eyes. He was in a red-lit room, lying on a hard bench. There was nobody in sight. He shook his head, and sat up. A woman was walking towards him: a woman with an evil smile on her face. As she drew closer, the Master could see that she was dressed in an all-over skintight leather suit. `I think I'm going to enjoy this...' he thought. "Who are you?" he asked, in as bold a voice as he could manage. "My name, although not important, is Zoey. Your name, however, certainly is important." "I am known as the Master." "Indeed? Well, that may be but around here I give the orders and you obey. Understood?" "Perfectly," the Master said. Zoey turned, and the Master leapt onto her back and knocked her to the ground. He turned her over, and pinned her. Staring into her eyes, he demanded "You will tell me every last thing about where I am." Zoey, easily hypnotised, began to speak. The Master's smile broadened as he listened. `Then I can still get you, Doctor!' "This way!" Sam said, dragging Alia through the streets of the Capitol towards the TARDIS. "Where are we going?" "To the Doctor's spacecraft! Look - I'll explain it all later. It's just around this... aaargh!!!!" Sam fell to the ground, and slid some distance clutching his chest. "Sam? What's the matter?" "Heart... attack... alien... body..." he managed to say. Alia turned and saw the Gallifrean guards approaching, led by the Castellan. "Oh, boy!" she said. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ -- -+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+- Paul `Ozymandias' Harman : pih@doc.ic.ac.uk -+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+- +-+-+-+-+-+ The amazing changing quote currently stands as follows: +-+-+-+-+-+ "No answer to a straight question - typical politician." - Tom Baker, The Deadly Assasin