Doctor Who: The Eight Doctors

by Terrance Dicks

  As he hurried towards it, he heard a worried voice.

  'Doctor, does that mean you can't do as you promised and send us all home?'

  He heard another voice reply uncertainly, 'Well, yes, I can still do that...'

  It was a voice the Doctor recognised immediately. It was his own.

  A third voice cut across him, a voice full of fear and hate: 'You can't! You can't unless... Doctor, you mustn't call them in or it'll be the end of us.

  They'll show no mercy -'

  The Doctor heard his own angry voice:

  'You stop the fighting!'

  The first voice shouted, 'Do as you're told'

  The corridor led to a huge, complex control room. The Doctor looked inside...

  The room was filled with a strange group of soldiers. He saw at least one British and one German officer.

  There were many others, soldiers from wildly varying time periods, wearing a motley assortment of uniforms.

  They all carried guns - all except one of them.

  The exception was a scruffy little man in an ill-fitting frock coat and rather tattered check trousers. He had a shrewd, intelligent face and a fringe of black hair, and he was gazing worriedly into space, while the others looked expectantly at him. It was quite clear that he was their leader.

  This was the other self the Doctor had come to find - the Second Doctor.

  Nearby, a tall, handsome man with a long thin moustache stood in front of a communications unit. Evidently he was a prisoner. Some of the soldiers, including a picturesquely villainous-looking Mexican bandit, were covering him with revolvers.

  In a harsh, grating voice the tall man said, "This is the War Chief to all War Zones. This is a command, direct from the War Lord. All fighting will cease.

  I repeat, all fighting in the War Zones will cease. You will stand by for further orders.'

  'Well done, Doctor!' said the Doctor.

  'You've done it!'

  The air in the room shimmered and everyone froze -everyone except the furiously angry little man in the frock coat.

  'You again!'

  For a moment the Doctor was surprised to be recognised. Then he realised that since his meeting with the First Doctor, he was part of the Second Doctor's memories. It was all very confusing.

  Their minds touched and the Second Doctor's memories flooded in, filling yet more of the gaps in the Doctor's mind.

  As the process finished, the Doctor said, 'I see, just as I thought. War Games! What a vile scheme! But the conditioning didn't work on everyone, so they formed a Resistance organisation, which you led to victory!'

  The Second Doctor said bitterly, 'Are you going to turn up at all the most awkward moments of my lives?'

  'I'm not sure,' said the Doctor. 'It's not entirely within my control. But surely this is a moment of triumph?'

  'Is it?'

  The Doctor slapped his other self on the back, so enthusiastically that the little man staggered.

  'Of course it is! You've captured the enemy control room, taken prisoner the traitorous Time Lord who helped them...'

  The Second Doctor sighed. 'Since my mind is now an open book to you -

  yours still seems to have quite a few blank pages, by the way - presumably you know what's been going on?'

  The Doctor tried to order the jumble of fresh information that had just flooded into his mind.

  'Let me see...With the help of a traitor

  Time Lord, aliens brought soldiers from different wars in Earth's history, brainwashed them into thinking they were still in their own time and place, and let them go on fighting, planning to weld the survivors, the toughest, into a galaxy-conquering army.'

  'That's about the strength of it,' said the Second Doctor. 'As crackbrained a scheme as I've ever encountered.

  Fortunately, it has now broken down - with a little help from me and my friends of the Resistance. However, the main problem still remains. The stolen technology that brought all these soldiers here is breaking down as well -it can't be used to send them back to their own times and places.'

  'But you've already got the answer to that.'

  The little man gave him a look of satirical enquiry.

  'I have?'

  'Even our treacherous friend saw the solution straight away. We just send for the Time Lords.'

  'Oh we do, do we? And did you happen to hear what he what he said would happen if I did? He said it would be the end for us both - that they would show no mercy. Well, he's quite right!'

  The Second Doctor folded his arms and scowled furiously, with the air of someone whose mind is made up.

  'No he isn't,' said the Doctor reassuringly. 'Do you really think the Time Lords will make no distinction between the two of you?'

  'Why should they? We're both renegades who stole Time Lord technology!'

  'Nonsense! Whatever your motives for leaving Gallifrey, they were neither evil nor corrupt.' The Doctor made a quick scan of his newly regained memories. 'And since you left, you have overcome monstrous enemies.

  The Quarks, the Yeti, the Ice Warriors, the Daleks... Tell the Time Lords about it - they'll listen. Make them see that there are evil forces in the universe that simply must be fought. Just sitting back and observing simply isn't good enough.

  You have an excellent defence to offer.'

  Abandoning his dignified pose, the little man waved his arms, hopping with fury.

  'It's easy enough for you to say that!

  It isn't you that will suffer their anger!'

  'You forget,' said the Doctor.

  'Whatever happens to you has already happened to me - even if neither of us knows what it is yet!

  Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll survive.'

  'I admire your confidence,' said the Second Doctor.

  'Suppose they condemn me to temporal dissolution?'

  'I wouldn't be here, would I? They can't have - '

  'Don't be too sure,' said the Second

  Doctor grimly. 'Time lines can alter you know - and if something terminal does happen to me, maybe you won't be here!'

  With a sudden chill, the Doctor realised that the little man was quite right.

  Was he heading for an alternative future in which the angry Time Lords condemned the Second

  Doctor to death? If his earlier incarnation - any of his earlier incarnations -

  died, he himself would never exist.

  He was breaking the Laws of Time just by being here -and when you abandon the rules anything can happen.

  The Second Doctor saw the realisation in his face.

  'Not quite so easy now, is it? Just remember, whatever decision I take will affect your fate as well.' He glanced at his frozen companions.

  'Now you'd better be off before the time bubble breaks. Take one of the alien time machines from the landing bay. It'll get you back to yourTARDIS.'

  'Goodbye,' said the Doctor. 'Thanks for the memories.' He paused. 'And do the right thing. Whatever the risk, it's one we've both got to take.'

  He turned and made for the door, disappearing just as time resumed its normal flow and the room returned to life.

  'Insufferable young man!' muttered the Second Doctor. 'It's all right for him to dish out moral advice. Thinks he knows it all just because he's a few lives ahead of me. All the same, he must have learned something in all those lifetimes...'

  The Second Doctor became aware that his two young companions, were looking worriedly up at him. They were an odd pair - Jamie, a burly young Highlander, and Zoe, a very small, very pretty girl with a computer-like brain. They had been through many adventures together. Was this to be their last?

  Zoe looked across at the War Chief.

  'What did he mean, Doctor? Who mustn't you call?'

  'The only people who can put an end to this whole ghastly business and send everyone back to their own times - the Time Lords!'

  Jamie looked puzzled. 'Who are they?'

  'They're my own people, Jamie.'

  'Oh, wel
l that's all right then!'

  Zoe was studying the Second Doctor's worried face.

  'It isn't all right, is it, Doctor?'

  'No,' said the Second Doctor resignedly. 'But I'm afraid there's no alternative.'

  Dropping cross-legged to the floor, he took six blank white cards from his pocket, dealing them out before him.

  Jamie gave Zoe a baffled look. 'What's he doing?'

  But the War Chief knew only too well.

  'Don't do it, Doctor,' he roared. 'You

  know what will happen!' He leaped at the Second Doctor, as if to restrain him by force.

  The English and the German officers grabbed the War Chief and held him back.

  The Second Doctor ignored them all, his face a blank mask of concentration.

  On the ground before him, the six white cards floated into the air and arranged themselves into a plain white cube.

  Jamie and Zoe kneeled beside him.

  'Doctor, are you all right?' asked Zoe anxiously.

  The Doctor opened his eyes. 'Yes, Zoe, I'm all right.'

  Jamie stared at the box, boggle-eyed. 'Doctor, what's that?'

  'It's a box, Jamie.'

  'I know, I can see that!'

  The Doctor picked up the box and held

  it in his hands. 'A very special sort of box. It now contains all the information about what's been going on here - and an appeal for help.'

  'Help? Who from?'

  'The Time Lords?' asked Zoe.

  'Yes, Zoe, the Time Lords.'

  Jamie was still baffled. To him the Doctor was a kind of all-powerful wizard.

  'But why haven't you asked them for help before?'

  The Doctor struggled to his feet. 'I've never really needed it before, Jamie, but this business of sending everyone back to their own times - well, it's too difficult for me...'

  He looked at the plain white box in his hands. In reality, it was a kind of miniature TARDIS. A simple telepathic impulse and it would materialise instantly on Gallifrey, a summons that could not be ignored.

  The Second Doctor tucked the box away in one of the capacious pockets of his frock coat. The message was ready, but he wouldn't send it, not quite yet. He was still grappling with his conscience, still trying to postpone the fateful decision. Perhaps he could still find some way to preserve his freedom.

  The Doctor, meanwhile, was in the Roman Zone, making his way back to his TARDIS. It had been a simple matter to set the control board so that the alien machine in the docking bay would take him there.

  He had interfered enough in his own past. He must leave his second self to work out his own destiny.

  As he strode along, the Doctor wondered what the little man would decide.

  He followed the winding path around the steep side of the hill and suddenly found a Roman chariot coming towards him, flanked by columns of marching men. But this was a very different group of men from the ones he had met before. The soldiers were cheerful and alert, marching briskly along the path.

  At the sight of the Doctor, the centurion raised his hand to halt the men.

  'Company, halt! General salute!'

  Swords and shields rattled across bronze breastplates once more.

  The centurion hurried forward to meet him, face beaming. 'Well done, Legate, well done! You sorted it out, just like you promised.'

  'I did?'

  'The general has just brought us the new orders, direct from Rome. No more fighting! There's been some kind of treaty with the barbarian tribes!'

  The Doctor remembered the angry prisoner in the alien control room, ordering a cease fire. The Second

  Doctor had achieved that - he had achieved that.

  The Doctor felt a rush of justifiable pride. They had stopped the slaughter!

  'Now, don't tell me you didn't have something to do with it!' the centurion went on.

  'Well, perhaps just a little,' said the Doctor modestly.

  'Better still, we're all going home soon!"

  'I'm very glad to hear it.'

  That, thought the Doctor, wasn't nearly such a sure thing. Not unless his earlier self had sent for the Time Lords...

  The centurion picked up the trace of uncertainty in his reply. 'We are going home, aren't we, Legate?'

  'I hope so,' said the Doctor. 'I very much hope so.'

  'But you're not sure?'

  'Well, it's a tricky thing to arrange - so many men...'

  The centurion sighed. "The lads have set their hearts on seeing Rome again.

  So have I, to tell the truth.'

  'I know,' said the Doctor. 'A flask of the old Falernian in Lurcio's tavern...'

  'That's right,' said the centurion.

  Suddenly the Doctor became aware that the mist was spreading over the hillside. The centurion's voice was fading. The centurion himself was fading, together with his horses his chariot and all his men. Slowly the Romans disappeared into the swirling mists...

  The Doctor gave a sigh of relief. This could only be the work of the Time Lords. His second self had summoned them after all. The War Games were over at last - and there, on the hillside was his TARDIS.

  The Doctor hurried towards it.

  Chapter 6

  Escape

  The high-speed hovercraft roared out of the sea mists and surged up the shingle beach that bordered the naval base.

  Two sailors ran towards it from the waiting ambulance, carrying a stretcher between them. A naval captain followed them, accompanied by a very small, very pretty girl in a white trouser suit.

  The landing ramp of the hovercraft dropped, and a tall, white-haired man emerged, followed by the hovercraft pilot. The tall man strode rapidly up the beach. He had a lined, young-old face and he wore a bulky, bright-orange padded rubber suit - submarine escape equipment.

  Jo Grant's face brightened at the sight of him.

  'They said someone was hurt...'

  'It's the Master,' said the Doctor - the Third Doctor. 'He collapsed soon after they picked us up.'

  'Well then, Doctor, what happened?' asked the naval captain.

  'I managed to destroy their base for you.'

  Captain Hart gave a sigh of sheer relief. With the help of the Doctor he had been battling with man-like, marine-based reptiles known as Sea Devils.

  Aided by an escaped criminal master-mind called the Master, the Sea Devils had destroyed shipping, invaded a sea-fort, and even attacked his own naval base. Now, at

  last, the menace was ended.

  'Thank goodness!' said Captain Hart.

  'Well done!'

  There was no pleasure, no triumph in the Doctor's voice.

  'I did what I had to, to prevent a war.'

  The two sailors from the ambulance made their way back from the hovercraft. On the stretcher lay a still form, blanket-covered to the chin.

  The sallow bearded face was waxy-looking, curiously frozen.

  'He's dead,' whispered Jo.

  The Third Doctor shook his head. The Master dead at last, all his villainy at an end, it scarcely seemed possible.

  It wasn't.

  'We were too late,' said one of the stretcher-bearers. 'The doctor in the hovercraft said so.'

  The Third Doctor stared at him. The hovercraft had had only a two-man crew, both sailors.

  'Doctor? What doctor?'

  He suddenly looked down that the face of his old enemy and reached out to touch it. The face came away in his hand. Beneath the mask he saw the wide, hypnotised eyes of the crewman from the hovercraft.

  'I must obey,' he whispered. 'I must obey. I must obey...'

  Even as the Doctor realised what must have happened, there came a roar of engines from the shoreline. He swung round, and caught a brief glimpse of the bearded figure at the controls.

  The Master waved a hand in sardonic salute, and the high-speed hovercraft swung round and zoomed away out to sea, vanishing into the mists.

  The Third Doctor stared after it, with a look on his face that might almost have been one
of admiration.

  'He's escaped!'yelled Hart.

  'He has indeed,' said the Doctor dryly.

  'We must go after him,' said Captain Hart. 'I'll organise a pursuit - fast launches, helicopters, whatever it takes.'

  'Can you catch up with him?' asked Jo Grant.

  'It won't be easy - that hovercraft's the latest high-speed model. But we can cut him off. There are plenty of ships in the area. Don't worry, Doctor, we'll get him!'