Doctor Who: The Eight Doctors

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Doctor Who: The Eight Doctors Page 14

by Terrance Dicks


  'I wondered if the outbreak of the fire wasn't a little too convenient,' said Zarn. 'It wasn't hard to work out who had started it - and why!'

  He stared hungrily at Romana and the

  Doctor, who stood beside her, cradling the body of the Fourth Doctor in his arms.

  'So you have come back to us, Time Lady. Bringing -' He broke off, staring hard at the Doctor. 'Bringing, I do believe, another Time Lord to replace the one we -wasted.' He laughed.

  'Another Doctor!'

  'The same Doctor actually,' said the Doctor. 'Don't let it worry you.'

  'So my plan can go ahead,' whispered

  Zarn. "This time we shall be more careful. Welcome, Time Lords. It is time for you to join us!'

  'I don't think so,' said the Doctor. He was looking past Zarn, staring into the distance. 'Your time is over.'

  Zarn stepped forwards, arms stretched out as if to seize them.

  Suddenly something flashed through the night air. Zarn staggered and the metal point of a pike-head burst from the front of his chest, followed by a spreading stain of blood. A pike hurled by Ivo from the edge of the forest.

  Zarn screamed and fell, hands clawing at the long pole that transfixed his body.

  The rebels came out of the forest, pikes and axes in their hands.

  ***

  The battle that followed was as bloody as it was brief.

  The vampires died quickly, thrust through with massive pikes, beheaded with axes. Abandoning their fire-fighting efforts the servants fled and the fire started regaining ground, spreading to the house. When the slaughter was over, Ivo ordered the bodies of the vampires to be hurled into the flames.

  Then, worried for the Doctor, he looked for the Lady Romana and the stranger, but they had gone.

  ***

  The Doctor strode along the path, seemingly unconscious of the weight of the Fourth Doctor in his arms.

  Romana stared at the Fourth Doctor's white face, then spoke sadly:'We'll never get him to the dome in time.'

  'We only have to get him to myTARDIS. We'll go the rest of the way in that.'

  They reached the clearing at last and headed for the blue police box, ignoring the vampire bodies lying nearby.

  'We must take poor Xan with us,' said Romana. The Doctor passed Romana a key, she opened the door and all three went inside. Moments later the Doctor emerged to collect Xan's body and carried it inside.

  A wheezing, groaning sound filled the clearing and the TARDIS faded away...

  ***

  That same strange sound startled Kalmar and the other rebels in the dome.

  They stared at the blue box, wondering if it was leaving of its own accord. It shimmered for a moment, but stayed where it was. Then the door opened and the Lady Romana appeared, carrying the slight body of Xan. She handed it over to an amazed rebel.

  'I'm sorry. The vampires caught him in the forest.'

  Romana was followed by a stranger who bore the unconscious Doctor in his arms.

  Kalmar examined Xan's body. 'It is too late for Xan. And the Doctor?'

  'I'm not sure. It depends what I can find among those salvaged medical supplies of yours.' She turned to the stranger. 'Bring him over here...'

  ***

  When Ivo and his attack squad returned to the dome they were met by an astonishing sight. The Doctor and the stranger lay on twin couches, their arms connected by blood-filled transparent tubes to a complex piece of machinery between them. The whole process was being supervised by the Lady Romana. The Hydrax sick bay had miraculously included an emergency transfusion kit.

  Kalmar put a finger to his lips as Ivo and his men entered the dome and came over to them.

  'What is happening?' whispered Ivo.

  'The stranger Doctor gives his blood to save our Doctor. It is very scientific...'

  ***

  Both Doctors lay dozing peacefully on their couches. As blood flowed into the Fourth Doctor's veins, his memories flowed into the Doctor's mind.

  'There, that's it,' said Romana at last.

  She disconnected them from the apparatus, and applied the necessary sticking plasters.

  The Fourth Doctor's other wounds had already been dressed and were already starting to heal. Romana looked at him.

  'You've got just about all the blood you need - which is fortunate, since he's given all he can spare.'

  The Fourth Doctor grinned. 'You deserve a cup of tea and a biscuit, old chap, but you'll have to settle for a goblet of the local wine.'

  The Doctors sat up on their couches and drank their wine, toasting each other and then Romana.

  'I suppose nobody's going to tell me what all this is about?' she said.

  'We would if we could,' said the Doctor.

  'All I can tell you is that I lost my memory - my memories - and I have to find my other selves to get them back.'

  'How is it going?'

  'Not too badly. I'm not quite the man I was, but I'm getting there. Which reminds me, I'd better be off.'

  Romana felt strangely disappointed.

  'So soon?'

  The Doctor drained his wine and stood up.

  'We temporal anomalies mustn't hang around too long.'

  He shook hands with the Fourth Doctor, then took Romana's hand and kissed her gently on the cheek.

  'Goodbye!'He strode across to theTARDIS and disappeared inside.

  A wheezing, groaning sound filled the air.

  Romana looked at her Doctor in alarm.

  'The TARDISes have merged! If he takes the only TARDIS now we'll be stranded.'

  '

  No need to worry,' said the Doctor.

  'Look!'

  They watched as a sort of ghost TARDIS rose from the original and floated away. . 'He's gone!' said

  Romana.

  'That's right,' said the Doctor. 'Of course, in a way he was never really here.'

  'What shall we tell Adric and K9?'

  'Nothing! They'd never believe us anyway!'

  Chapter 13

  Timescoop

  The Doctor lay stretched out on the chaise-longue in the TARDIS control room. On the table beside him stood a mug of hot, sweet tea and a plate of buttered toast.

  He was dozing, eyes half-closed, hovering between sleep and waking, and he was reminiscing, leafing through the memories of his other selves, reacquainting himself with the events of their adventurous lives.

  As the First Doctor had predicted, even those memories, dormant in his own mind, were beginning to stir... He was recovering.

  He thought of the fierce old man in the prehistoric jungle, of the gentle little fellow who had sacrificed his own freedom so that others might be free.

  He saw the tall, elegant dandy struggling bitterly against the chains of his exile but unable to resist defending the planet that had become his prison.

  He saw the casual bohemian in the floppy hat and ridiculously long scarf who dared to take on the evil that stalks the dark.

  He had no reason to be ashamed of himselves, thought the Doctor. Indeed, there was much of which to be modestly proud.

  What had the old man said? Seven regenerations...

  Three more to go.

  'When and where will they be, and what will they be doing?' murmured the Doctor sleepily. 'What will they belike?'

  His eyes closed, his head nodded and a half-eaten slice of buttered toast slipped from his hand and dropped to the floor, landing, as always, buttered side down. The Doctor slept.

  As his two hearts pumped steadily, his extraordinary Time Lord physiology laboured to restore him to full health and strength. Sleep, the Doctor had once observed, is for tortoises. But even a Time Lord needs to take it easy occasionally, especially with half of his blood supply to makeup.

  ***

  Summoned yet again to the Temporal Control Room, President Flavia studied the tempograph on the big monitor screen. The short red segment that represented the Doctor's seventh regeneration had reappeared. It seemed to be motionless.


  'The tempograph now indicates, Madam President,' began Chief Temporal Technician Volnar nervously,' that the Doctor -'

  '- is back in normal space and time,' snapped Flavia. 'That much I can see for myself. Have you any idea why his time trace disappeared?'

  'I think I have, Madam President. The Fourth Doctor's time trace once showed a similar anomaly, as did that of his then companion, the Lady Romanadvoratrelundar. I believe that for a time he passed through a Charged Vacuum Emboitment into E-Space, which as you know is -'

  '- a kind of parallel universe,' concluded Flavia impatiently.

  'Exactly so, Madam President,' agreed Volnar, wondering if he was ever going to be allowed to finish a sentence.

  'So the Doctor visited his fourth reincarnation, then in E-Space, and has now returned. Is he heading for his fifth self?'

  'Apparently not, Madam President. As you can see, there appears to be some kind of hiatus. The Doctor seems to be, well, resting. Perhaps the phenomenon is at an end.'

  'I very much doubt it. Something tells me that if the Doctor has revisited his first, second, third and fourth selves, he will go on to meet his fifth, sixth and seventh selves as well.'

  Volnar spread his hands helplessly.

  'You may well be right, Madam President. For now, I cannot tell.'

  Flavia considered for a moment.

  'Continue to observe the situation closely, Chief Technician. Report to me immediatety there is any change.' She started to leave but was checked by an indignant voice.

  'Madam President!'

  Flavia turned to see Councillor Ryoth, surrounded by a small group of his cronies, standing a little apart. They looked, thought Flavia, rather like a protest delegation -which was precisely what they were.

  'Is that all you propose to do, Madam President?' asked Ryodi, his voice quivering with indignation, 'Simply observe?'

  The indignation was faked, thought Flavia. Ryoth was making a political speech.

  'What would you have me do?' she asked calmly.

  'The Doctor is breaking - nay shattering - the Laws of Time. It is my belief that he has gone rogue. He should be arrested, incarcerated, interrogated.'

  'And executed?' asked Flavia coldly.

  'If necessary, yes!'

  'He should at least be brought back to Gallifrey and restrained for his own good,' urged Councillor Ortan. 'If he has become unbalanced he may need our help.'

  Flavia considered this argument for a moment. She shook her head.

  'Without more knowledge we might well do more harm than good. Later perhaps, not yet.'

  'Then you propose to do nothing?' demanded Ryoth.

  'For the moment.'

  And what of the danger to Gallifrey?'

  Flavia turned to Chief Technician Volnar. 'Is there any disturbance in the Eye of Harmony?'

  'None, Madam President.'

  'Is there any draining of temporal energy?'

  'No, Madam President.'

  'Is there any sign, any indication however slight, that the Doctor's temporal peregrinations are endangering Gallifrey in any way?'

  At present, none whatsoever, Madam President.'

  'If any such signs appear you will inform me immediately.'

  'Of course, Madam President.'

  Flavia took Ryoth aside and fixed him with an icy glare.'Your hatred of the Doctor is well known to me, Ryoth, as are the reasons for it,' she said softly.

  'It would be regrettable - for you - if I decided to delve into those reasons more deeply.'

  The blood drained from Ryoth's thin face.

  'Whatever mistakes I may have made in the past, Madam President, my loyalty to you, and to the High Council -'

  '- is debatable, to say the least,' said Flavia coldly. 'Castellan Spandrell has three files on those who have been politically indiscreet, Councillor Ryoth.

  The Black File holds the names of those who are about to be, or have been, arrested, tried, imprisoned, exiled or executed. The White File contains those who have been pardoned, who are considered to have redeemed themselves by long and faithful service.' She paused. 'There is a third file - the Grey File. It contains the names of those whose fate is yet undecided. But nobody stays in the Grey file forever, Councillor Ryotb -

  remember that. Periodically the file is reviewed and action is taken. Certain names are transferred, to the White File - or to the Black. Those in the Grey File need to be extremely careful at all times. Do I make myself clear?'

  Ryoth bowed. 'Completely so, Madam President.'

  Flavia nodded and moved away, followed by her entourage.

  Ryoth watched her go, his face filled with fear and hatred.

  Ortan came to join him. 'What is it? What did she say to you?'

  Ryoth recovered himself with an effort. 'She begged me to take no further action for the present.'

  'But we were planning a formal protest to the High Council!'

  'Not yet,' said Ryoth mysteriously.

  'There are certain political considerations. We will act when the time is right.'

  It took him quite a while to calm Ortan down - which was ironic, considering how long he'd spent stirring him up.

  But everything had changed now, Ryoth thought as he made his way back to his office. He'd made the mistake of underestimating that terrible little woman. For all her unassuming manner she was the President of the High Council. She had enormous power, should she choose to use it, and she had just reminded Ryoth of the fact.

  Ryoth shuddered at the thought of coming under investigation by Castellan Spandrell. There was so much in his past that wouldn't bear close scrutiny. He had thought he was clever enough to elude Spandrel]'s security net, but realised now that he had been deceiving himself. He was simply too small a fish to bother with - for the moment. And as Flavia had just reminded him, the situation could change.

  Safe in his inner sanctum, Ryoth sat considering his next step. He dared not act openly against Flavia, not now.

  Castellan Spandrell was devoted to her and would move at her word.

  Ryoth's political record could be made to seem harmless or treasonable. It all depended who was writing the reports. Justice on Gallifrey was adjustable.

  But if he couldn't attack Flavia, how could he destroy the Doctor? Because to destroy the Doctor was the passion of Ryoth's life.

  A leader he had adored had been brought down by the Doctor and Ryoth had been plotting his revenge ever since.

  He glanced towards his secret corn-link. The Agency, that was his only hope. The Agency could protect him against Flavia. They could even destroy the Doctor - if he could only persuade them that it was in their best interests.

  One thing at least was in his favour.

  The Agency, like most ultra-secret intelligence organisations, was completely paranoid.

  Ryoth opened the door and activated the corn-link.

  The metallic voice said, 'Report.'

  Ryoth gave an account of the latest developments in the Doctor affair. 'It seems very likely that he has become unbalanced. He is certainly dangerous, particularly to the Agency.'

  The metallic voice said, 'Why?'

  Ryoth made his pitch. 'We don't yet know why the Doctor is doing whatever he is doing - only that it indicates erratic and disturbed behaviour. Far more significant is the fact that he has the ability to do it.'

  'Explain.'

  'The Doctor is breaking the Laws of Time in the most flagrant manner -

  without the aid or support of Temporal Control and without disturbing the Eye of Harmony. He must know that his actions will be detected, but he doesn't seem to care. Somehow he has gained access to powers that enable him to defy us - or perhaps he simply has powerful backers.'

  Ryoth paused before taking the final plunge. 'It is rumoured that the Doctor has acted as your agent. He must know a great many secrets - and if he really is out of control...'

  'It is dangerous to repeat rumours,' said the metallic voice.

  Ryoth shivered
at the implied menace. Had he gone too far?

  'We shall consider what you have said,' the voice went on. 'Wait.'

  Ryoth sat for what seemed a very long time. He grew hungry and thirsty and stiff, but he didn't dare move.

 

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