‘Oh very well. You’d better get on with it.’
A final movement of the failing fingers over the control console and the picture faded away. The President slumped face downwards across the console. Like his fellow Time Lords he was in a protective coma, only the tiniest glimmer of life-force remained. Unless the energy drain was halted soon, even that would be gone. So too would that of the other Time Lords. As the energy blight spread, it would destroy every living creature in the Universe, and then the Universe itself.
9
‘All Things Shall Be Destroyed’
BESIDE A TOWERING cascade of flame, the being who had planned the end of the Universe looked at the two Time Lords standing meekly before him.
‘No doubt you have guessed why you have been brought here. What it is that I need from you?’
The Doctor, now recovered from his ordeal in the arena, said nothing. Doctor Two, apparently more anxious to please, nodded eagerly. ‘Well, yes, er, of course. Well, that is…’
His voice tailed away feebly. The Doctor looked down at him disparagingly and said, ‘What he means is – no. We haven’t the faintest idea.’
Omega sighed, resigned to the stupidity of all other beings in the Universe. ‘You know, at least, that this world exists by the effort of my will – because of my control over singularity.’
‘Very impressive,’ said Doctor Two, rather like someone being shown a really good card trick.
Omega ignored him. ‘In singularity, everything is possible. I can create whatever I wish by the exercise of my will.’ He nodded towards the taller Time Lord. ‘You have experienced the way I can exteriorise my thoughts, even my feelings!’
The Doctor rubbed his throat. ‘I have indeed,’ he agreed.
Doctor Two piped up again, ‘I say,’ he said foolishly, ‘you mean you just have to think of something, rub your magic wand over there…’ he nodded disrespectfully at the pillar of fire, ‘and shalamy-galamy-zoop, there it is? I call that jolly clever.’ A sudden thought seemed to strike him. ‘You couldn’t run me up a quick flute, could you?’
Omega glared down at him. The room darkened, the flame flickered, and a distant threatening rumble of thunder gave proof of Omega’s mounting anger. The Doctor poked his other self sharply in the ribs, but the clownish little man seemed lost to all reason. He held up his hands, a little apart. ‘Wooden thing, about this long, with holes in it.’ He looked hopefully at Omega.
Omega’s voice boomed out angrily. ‘I shall tell you now of the task before you…’
‘Well it’s not much to ask, is it?’ muttered Doctor Two. ‘I mean, one little flute…’
This time the thunder filled the room, and the fountain of flame seemed to roar in sympathy. Hurriedly the Doctor said, ‘Just ignore him, please. I’m afraid he’s incorrigibly frivolous.’
Once more there came that sulky but quite audible mutter from the level of his shoulder. ‘Just because you’re not musical. Wasn’t your flute, was it?’
The Doctor hissed, ‘Oh do stop interrupting us.’ Turning to Omega he said politely, ‘I’m so sorry. Please continue.’
Omega’s angry bellow seemed to shake the entire castle. ‘Continue? You face annihilation, do you know that? You, your entire Time Lord race, the Universe itself, and what do you do? You babble of flutes!’
The Doctor took his companion firmly by the elbow, and led him a little to one side. ‘Give me a moment to talk to him, Omega. I will make him realise his folly.’
Omega roared, ‘You would be wise to do so, for both your sakes.’ He stalked closer to his pillar of flame, as if to commune with it.
The Doctor leaned over his other self and whispered urgently, ‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’
There was no hint of foolishness in the serious face that looked up at him. ‘Testing his powers of self-control. Can’t say I think very much of them.’
‘I think I see what you’re up to. Dangerous though. If you provoke him too far, he’ll kill you. Kill us both!’
‘Have to risk that,’ whispered Doctor Two. ‘That temper of his is his only weakness…’
Omega rounded upon them, suspicious of their lowered voices. ‘Do you plot against me?’
The Doctor hurried back towards him. ‘No, no, I assure you. I was simply telling my – associate to show more respect, to listen carefully to what you have to say.’
The second Doctor came and stood meekly beside him. ‘Please go on, Omega. You were mentioning some task…’
Omega gestured towards the pillar of flame. ‘Here is the source of the light stream along which you travelled.’
The Doctor nodded, remembering the streak of ‘space-lightning’ which had first shown up on Tyler’s cosmic-ray device.
‘I created it, I alone, Omega. Yet it is not enough. None of it is enough. I am trapped, as surely as I was when I first arrived in this desolation.’
Puzzled, the Doctor said, ‘I take it you want to leave here? But surely, if you can transmit matter to and from Earth along this light-beam, you could transport yourself, well, anywhere?’
‘So I imagined. No, Doctor, there was no escape! As long as I control singularity, I can make it do my will. Without my will’s unceasing pressure, everything here would revert to chaos.’
At last the Doctor saw the full irony of Omega’s predicament. ‘So, the moment you abandon control, you cannot escape. And you cannot escape without abandoning control?’
The great masked figure bowed its head. ‘That is your task, Doctor, both of you. To take over my burden so that I can escape. Only when the Time Lords accept me as their supreme ruler, will I consent to save their Universe.’
The two Doctors looked at each other, as the full horror of the situation dawned upon them. They were to remain, trapped for ever in this appalling place, while Omega became the ruler of the Time Lords, using their power for his own lunatic ends.
A note of irony came into Omega’s voice. ‘My world does not please you? Then you may transform it, once I have taught you the trick – see!’
One wall of the Singularity Chamber faded away to reveal a beautiful green landscape, rolling fields, orchards in blossom, great stretches made colourful with trees, grass and flowers. ‘Just such a world did I create when I first came here. But the beauty and the colour demand much effort from the will. As thousands upon thousands of years roll by, the strain becomes too great.’ As Omega spoke, the colour drained from the landscape, the vegetation faded away, until only rolling grey dunes were left. ‘You will end, as I did, with the simplest elements – sand, sea and sky.’
After a moment the Doctor said, ‘And what if we refuse your generous offer?’
‘Then the light-beam will go on absorbing energy from the world of matter. You, not I, will be responsible for the destruction of the Universe. What is your answer?’
The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but Doctor Two forestalled him. ‘We will obey you, Omega. We have no choice.’
A golden throne appeared behind Omega and he lowered himself upon it. ‘Come – remove this mask.’
The two Doctors approached. Now that Omega was sitting, the great metal mask was within their reach. ‘You too will need such masks,’ said Omega. ‘Working with the light-beam has a slow corrosive effect, due to the acceleration of the particles.’
Omega’s ‘mask’ was in fact a kind of metal helmet, similar in construction to that on a suit of armour. It covered both head and shoulders although the ‘head’ was made to be separately detached. The fact that the light-beam was so dangerous, thought the Doctor, explained the metal mask, metallic robes, the metal boots and gauntlets, with which Omega always protected himself.
As their fingers worked on the fastenings, the Doctors could not help wondering what sort of face they would find beneath it. If the corrosion of the light-beam had already started its work… As the last fastenings came free, they braced themselves and lifted up the head-piece of the helmet.
What they saw ben
eath it froze them both with pity and horror. With one accord they lowered the mask back into place. But before they could close the fastenings, Omega swung his head round angrily. ‘Why do you not obey me?’ he roared.
The two Doctors looked at each other in helpless silence. There was genuine sympathy in the Doctor’s voice as he replied, ‘We cannot, Omega.’
‘There would be no point,’ confirmed Doctor Two. ‘Destroy us if you wish – but what you want can never be.’
Slowly Omega rose to his feet. He strode across to one wall, and waved his hand. Immediately the surface became smooth and polished, a mirror of bronze. Gauntleted hands fumbling a little, Omega lifted the mask from his own shoulders. He raised it high above his head. Beneath it he saw – nothing. Just empty space. With a great howl of anguish Omega replaced the mask.
Sadly the Doctor said, ‘The corrosion has already done its work. Your physical being has been eaten away. There is nothing left of you – except your will.’
‘It is not true,’ bellowed Omega. ‘I am! I exist! I am Omega, creator of this world.’
‘Don’t you see,’ said the Doctor sadly, ‘you can exist only in this world.’
Doctor Two nodded. ‘You have built your own prison. You can never leave it.’ In the little Doctor’s compassionate voice the words had the sonorous ring of a judge passing sentence.
They watched as Omega swayed to and fro, grappling with the horror of his fate. Hands flung out in anguish, Omega became still. With a terrible deliberation the great voice rang out. ‘If I exist only by my will, my will is to destroy. All things shall be destroyed. All things! All things!’
A great crack of thunder split open the roof, letting in a howling wind, which made the fountain of flame flare up wildly. Jagged cracks appeared in the metal walls. The floor beneath their feet seemed to flow like a metal ocean.
Omega reeled to and fro in the flame, filling the place with howls of maniacal laughter.
The Doctor was watching the spectacle appalled, when he felt a tug at his sleeve. ‘Told you he’d got no self-control,’ whispered Doctor Two. ‘I think this is our chance, don’t you?’
As the two Doctors ran along the metal corridors, the whole building seemed to heave and quake around them. No one attempted to stop them as they made for the great main doors at a staggering run.
It was like being caught in a combined earthquake and thunderstorm. As they reached the entrance hall, they saw the doors buckled open, one of them hanging from its hinges. Outside was a night of howling storm, lightning streaked across the purple sky, and winds whipped the grey sands into swirling clouds. Gripping each other’s hands they plunged into the darkness.
Only one thing saved them from being hopelessly lost as they ran through the ever-changing shifting landscape, eyes and mouths choked by the swirling sand, blinded by lightning, deafened by thunder. They were making for the transported UNIT H.Q., and that meant for the TARDIS. As Time Lords, they had a homing instinct for the TARDIS stronger than that of any homing pigeon. Lurching and staggering they stumbled on through the howling chaos.
*
The Brigadier looked out of the laboratory window and wished he was back in England. In fact he wished the whole building was back in England. They were on the outer fringes of the storm which centred on Omega’s castle, but they could see the howling gale outside, and hear the rumbling of thunder.
Tyler, Jo and Benton were finishing a kind of picnic meal, raked up from the UNIT canteen. It was cold, of course, and since the power sources were literally cut off, mostly out of tins, but it had made them all feel much better. The walls of the room were lined with an assortment of weapons, which Benton had brought up from the armoury. All in all, the Brigadier was pretty well satisfied with his situation. If only the Doctor would turn up, they could all get in the TARDIS and go home.
Jo joined him at the window, carrying a pinkish piece of meat on the end of a fork. ‘Where do you get your supplies from, Brigadier? I’ll swear this bully beef was canned for the Boer War.’
The Brigadier inspected it solemnly. ‘Nonsense. Best 1940 vintage! They don’t make it like that any more.’
Jo gave him a look, and popped the lump of meat into her mouth, chewing vigorously. ‘Storm seems to be easing a bit,’ she said a little indistinctly.
The Brigadier nodded. ‘Funny thing though – wind’s dying down but the thunder’s getting worse. Listen.’
Above the wind, both heard a series of crashes. They seemed to be moving closer. ‘Thunder be blowed,’ said the Brigadier suddenly. ‘Those are explosions. Stand by, everybody.’
They all seized weapons from the selection around the walls. ‘Seems to be coming from the front,’ said the Brigadier. They moved along the corridors towards the main door.
Nearby, on the dunes, the two Doctors were thankful that the storm was easing. ‘Not much further I think,’ said the Doctor, as they staggered to the top of yet another dune. As they came over the rise, he shouted, ‘Look!’ Lashed by the dying storm, the UNIT building lay before them.
Doctor Two tapped him on the shoulder. ‘You look, old chap.’ The Doctor turned. A line of blob-men was lumbering purposefully towards them.
‘We’re just in time,’ said the Doctor. ‘Come on, we’d better get inside.’ They started to run down the slope. A line of explosions followed them. From the dunes ahead more blob-men appeared on every side.
The menacing circle of Omega’s servants lumbered ever nearer. Explosions began to tear up the ground all around them. They were surrounded – and cut off from UNIT H.Q.
10
Return through the Flame
JUST INSIDE THE main door, the Brigadier and his small army listened to the explosions.
‘Sounds like a full-scale attack,’ muttered the Brigadier.
Jo Grant, staggering under the weight of an anti-tank rifle, panted, ‘Brigadier, maybe they’re not firing at us at all. Maybe it’s the Doctor…’
The Brigadier said, ‘I’m going to check.’ He unlocked and unbarred the door and opened it a crack. Peering out he saw two figures, one tall and one short, racing across the sand towards them, twisting and turning to dodge the explosions that erupted at their feet.
‘It’s the Doctor,’ yelled the Brigadier. ‘Covering fire, everybody.’
Just as the Doctors realised that their enemies had cut off their approach to UNIT H.Q., they saw the doors flung open, and a strange looking force emerge. It was led by the Brigadier, with a Sterling sub-machine gun. Behind him came Benton, cradling a Bren-gun without its tripod. Tyler had an anti-tank rifle, Hollis his shot-gun, and Jo Grant brought up the rear with a rifle that seemed almost as tall as she was. Cupping his hands to his mouth the Brigadier yelled, ‘Get down, both of you.’
The two Doctors flung themselves to the ground as something that sounded very like a full-scale battle broke out above their heads.
As fast as the blob-men came up, the UNIT party blasted them to pieces. Benton literally sliced one in two with his Bren, and was horrified when the thick legs continued running towards him for a moment, before toppling into the sand. Direct hits from grenades disintegrated the creatures completely. The machine guns and Benton’s Bren sliced them into separate fragments which wriggled horribly on the ground as they tried to reassemble themselves.
Jo Grant’s contribution to the battle was limited. The recoil from her rifle knocked her flat on her back as soon as she fired it. Hugging her bruised shoulder, she decided to remain an observer. Although she realised that the blob-men couldn’t be killed – as soon as they were blasted to bits, those bits started coming together again – there was something horrifying about seeing them mown down. She was very glad when she heard the Brigadier yell, ‘Cease fire! Run for it, Doctor!’
The two Doctors picked themselves up and sprinted towards the doors. Even as they did so, more blob-men appeared in pursuit. The Brigadier bustled everyone through the doors. He and Benton, reloading frantically, hung back and fou
ght a rearguard action, blasting down the blob-men as they appeared and falling back along the corridor to the laboratory.
As they dashed inside they saw the Doctor waiting by the open door of the TARDIS. He waved them in, and followed. Doctor Two was already at the control console. He closed the door, and set the force-field in operation.
For a moment the little party stood gasping for breath, waiting for the rattle of bullets and the roaring of explosions to die away from their ears. Tyler and Hollis were gaping around them in amazement, and the two Doctors were excitedly shaking hands and slapping backs with Jo and Benton. The Brigadier cleared his throat meaningfully, and everyone turned to look at him. ‘Now, Doctor,’ said the Brigadier sternly, ‘I’d like some explanations from you.’ He looked at the Doctor’s tall figure, and at the smaller figure of the second Doctor standing at his side, ‘In fact,’ said the Brigadier, accepting the inevitable, ‘I’d like some explanations from both of you.’
Omega stood brooding in his ruined hall. In his mind’s eye he had watched the battle outside UNIT, and seen the Doctors escape into the TARDIS. In his present mood of bleak despair it mattered little to him.
‘Fools,’ he muttered. ‘Soon you will leave your pitiful refuge and come crawling to me for mercy. And by that time, your Universe will no longer exist!’
‘… So there you are,’ said the Doctor. ‘They can’t get in – and we can’t get out.’
‘We’re besieged,’ concluded Doctor Two. ‘If only I could find my flute, I could play you a little tune to pass the time.’
‘We must be thankful for small mercies,’ said the Brigadier.
‘Doctor,’ said Jo. ‘Why can’t we just clear off home in the TARDIS?’
The Doctor replied, ‘Because for one thing, we’ve done nothing yet to deal with Omega’s plan.’
Doctor Two went to the console and flicked controls. ‘And for another, we’re immobilised, locked here by the force of Omega’s will.’
Doctor Who: The Three Doctors Page 9