Doctor Who: Space War (10 page)

‘A good thing you were stopped,’ said Jo.

‘In retrospect. Miss Grant. perhaps you are right.’ The Master’s eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘I might have learnt to be content with Earth alone, whereas now I am after something a million times bigger.’

‘No doubt to control the Universe.’ The Doctor smiled.

‘Even I have my limitations,’ bantered the Master. ‘But shall we say this galaxy, the Milky Way?’

‘Tell me,’ asked the Doctor, more seriously, ‘why am I still alive?’

The Master laughed. ‘We Time Lords live to immense ages.’

‘You know what I mean, why have you gone to all this trouble to retrieve me alive from that prison?’

‘Believe it or not, Doctor, your health is very precious to me—at least for the moment. My employers are very interested in you.’

‘Your employers?’ said Jo, curiously. ‘The Ogrons?’

The Master’s smile faded. ‘Please, Miss Grant, I employ
them
.’

‘Whatever you’re up to,’ said the Doctor, ‘you’ll get no help from me.’

‘I don’t need it, thank you. Your presence will be enough. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some rather complicated astro-navigational calculations to make. We are about to go to the outer extremity of the galaxy, to the home planet of our friends the Ogrons.’

‘Why are you taking us there?’ asked Jo.

The Master’s smile returned. ‘That, my dear Miss Grant, you will discover when you arrive. Believe me, I have a big surprise in store for you.’ He turned to leave them, then paused. ‘Please don’t try to escape. You’ll find it’s quite impossible. What’s more, a television eye will be watching you in your cage at all times. From where I shall be sitting at the ship’s controls, I shall be able to see you at any moment. Have a happy journey.’ With a cheery wave the Master left the hold, making his way for’ard towards the ship’s flight deck.

‘The moment the Master had gone, the Doctor inspected the lock on the gate set in the cage wall. He shook his head. ‘No chance of picking that.’

‘What about your sonic screwdriver?’ asked Jo.

‘The Master took it off me at the prison, when they gave me back my own clothes. Anyway, we don’t want to escape just yet.’ He settled back on to one of the bunks.

‘But why not? I’m tired of being cooped up like an animal!’

‘You heard the Master, Jo. We’re going to the Ogron’s planet. He says that’s where the TARDIS is.’ He leaned back, cradling his head in his hands. ‘We wait till we’re well under way, then we escape.’

‘How?’

‘With this.’ From its hiding place under the back of his jacket collar, the Doctor pulled out a string file. It looked like a very thin necklace.

‘What about the television eye? He’s going to be watching us.’

‘Then he mustn’t see anything to worry him. We’ll set to work as soon as we’ve taken off.’

‘Just as you say, Doctor.’ Once again Jo sat down to wait.

On the flight deck the Master completed his navigational calculations. His hand on the control that would start the ship’s powerful motors, he paused to consider how his plans were going. It was unfortunate that the Doctor had accidentally turned up at the same moment in Time when the Master hoped to seize total power over the millions of suns and planets of the Milky Way. Still, he had so far turned the situation to his advantage. His allies, whom he personally loathed and despised, would be delighted to have the Doctor turned over to them as prisoner. He could see them in his imagination, gliding forward to take a closer look at his catch, chattering in the soulless, metallic voices.

‘Stupid pepper pots! ‘ he said to himself with a grin. ‘Stupid Daleks!’

He gently moved the control. The engines roared into life as the ship rocketed from the Moon’s surface, and into the endless blackness of Space.

The Doctor and Jo lifted themselves from the floor of the cage, where they had been thrown by the force of take-off.

‘He could have warned us,’ said Joe, tenderly feeling a bruised knee.

‘Well he didn’t.’ The Doctor glanced towards the television eye, sure that once they were in flight the Master would be making his first visual check of the two prisoners.

Jo said, ‘Do you think he’s watching? You said that once we were under way—’

The Doctor
herrurmphed
loudly, pretending to clear his throat. ‘So I said to the High Council of the Time Lords, they had no right to put me on trial to begin with—’

Jo stared at him. ‘Doctor, what are you talking about?’

He moved so that he was standing with his back to the iron bars, his face well in view of the television eye. ‘“If I choose to spend my time wandering round the Universe,” I told them, “that’s my business.”’

Now Jo understood. The Doctor was using the string file on one of the bars behind his back; his body masked what his hands were doing from the television eye.

She spoke up, in case the Master was listening. ‘What happened then?’

‘My fellow Time Lords found me guilty of meddling in the affairs of other species, changed my appearance and exiled me to Earth. That’s when I met you.’

The Master’s voice came over a hidden loudspeaker. ‘Doctor, do you really have to bore Miss Grant with your reminiscences?’

The Doctor glared towards the television eye. ‘I think it most improper of you to eavesdrop on our conversation.’

‘So do I,’ said Jo, loudly. ‘Kindly stop listening to us.’

They heard the Master chuckle. ‘Just as you please, Miss Grant.’

‘Where was I?’ said the Doctor, his hands still working feverishly behind his back.

‘Being exiled to planet Earth,’ said Jo. ‘I’m fascinated by your story.’

With no further interruptions from the. Master, the two prisoners continued their mock conversation, in the hope that the Master would not notice what the Doctor was really doing. While the Doctor continued to work the string file round one of the bars of the cage, Jo busied herself ripping open the mattress on one of the bunks. To keep the conversation going the Doctor talked about his special attachment to the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce and his feelings about UNIT’s British Commander, Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart. ‘I soon realised that the trouble with him was that he’d got a military mind.’

‘Hardly surprising,’ said Jo, ‘since he’s a military man.’

‘That’s just the trouble. Hide-bound, you see. He always wants to do everything by the rules. He doesn’t realise there are times when you simply have to cut
through
the red tape.’ The Doctor could feel that he had taken the string file right through the bar behind him.

‘And you’ve managed to cut through?’ asked Jo, not sure whether she had understood the Doctor’s secret message.

‘Yes,’ he replied, working the string file into another position. ‘But you have to cut through not only at the bottom, but also at the top.’

They continued this masquerade for another ten minutes, then the Doctor said, ‘Well, I’m tired. It’s time I got some rest.’

‘You can rest at a time like this?’ asked Jo.

‘Why not? There’s no point standing around when I can lie down.’ In a whisper the Doctor added, ‘Just let’s hope he isn’t watching now!’

The Doctor turned round, lifted aside the severed bar, then wriggled through the gap. Jo took the bar from him.

‘Your jacket!’ she whispered urgently.

‘Sorry, almost forgot.’ Outside the cage, the Doctor quickly shrugged off his long jacket and shoved it through the bars to Jo. ‘See you—I hope.’ He disappeared down the ship’s main corridor.

Jo first wedged the bar back into position, using bits of torn cloth from the mattress to hold it in place. Then she pulled the stuffing from the mattress and pushed it down one of the sleeves of the Doctor’s jacket.

The Master was absorbed in a treasured copy of H. G. Wells’s
War of the Worlds
. Before turning the page of his book, he glanced up at the television monitor screen that showed his prisoners. The girl, Jo Grant, was now sitting on one of the bunks, hugging her knees and talking. The Master turned up the volume of his loudspeaker to listen.

‘... I’m always telling you, Doctor, you’ve got no real idea where you’re going in that TARDIS. I mean to say you were supposed to be getting me back to Earth, and all we do is land in one terrible situation after another. And what’s the Brigadier going to say? After all. I’m supposed to be working for UNIT—’

The Master switched off the loudspeakers. The Doctor appeared to have taken to the other bunk, his form clearly discernible under the blankets. For a moment the Master alerted, suspecting a trick—was that really the Doctor or some dummy they had made? Then he noticed the sleeve of the Doctor’s jacket protruding from the blankets and felt at ease.

His momentary fears at rest, the Master turned the page of his book and continued to read. With the spaceship on automatic pilot, he had nothing else to do.

Keeping well out of sight of the television eye, the Doctor had found a locker containing a space suit. He quickly put it on, checked the oxygen cylinder pack, and returned to where Jo was keeping up the pretence of talking to his reclining figure.

‘... Anyway, if we ever do get back to Earth, I’m never coming up in that TARDIS again...’

The Doctor caught Jo’s eye. She gave an almost imperceptible nod to indicate that she had seen him. He gave her the thumbs-up sign then opened the inner door to the air-lock.

From the corner of her eye, Jo saw the Doctor disappear into the air-lock. She realised his intention must be to space-walk along the outer hull of the spaceship and enter the flight deck from the outside, thus taking the Master by surprise. All she had to do was continue the pretence that the Doctor was still in the cage with her.

‘I suppose it’s my own fault. really,’ she said, desperately trying to think what to say next. ‘If I hadn’t persuaded my uncle to pull strings and get me a job I’d never have got mixed up with UNIT. Some people think intelligence work is all very romantic, all glamorous dinner parties with James Bond types. Instead, I’m either filing letters at UNIT Headquarters or I’m off with you in some ghastly place being chased by monsters...’

The Master’s voice broke in over the loudspeaker. ‘Doctor—Miss Grant—you’d better hold on. I’m about to make a rather sharp course correction. It could give you both a bit of a jolt.’

Jo looked at the air-lock door in horror, realising that if the Doctor was already outside the ship, a sudden jolt could send him tumbling away into the depths of Space, lost for ever.

*
See Doctor Who and the Sea-Devils.

Weightless now that he was outside the spaceship, the Doctor worked his way slowly along the hull towards the flight deck, using hand-holds which some thoughtful designer had provided for the purpose. All at once he became aware of a great glare of light from the rear end of the ship. Without thinking he turned to look, holding on with one hand. Too late he realised the glare was caused by a suddenly increased burst from the rocket motors. The hull of the ship lurched away from him and the Doctor found himself swimming in Space.

Vibrations from the rocket motors shuddered through the metal walls of the flight deck. Carefully watching the control dials. the Master eased back the rocket motor lever. The vibrations stopped. The spaceship was once again gliding freely. The Master looked up at the television monitor, where he saw Jo release her grip on the iron bars.

‘Everything all right, Miss Grant?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, her voice hollow with fear for what had happened to the Doctor. ‘I’m fine.’

‘And how are you, Doctor? No ill effects, I trust?’

The form under the blankets didn’t move.

‘Please don’t wake him,’ said Jo. ‘He’s gone to sleep.’

The Master turned off the loudspeaker, stroked his beard thoughtfully. How, he wondered, could the Doctor have slept through the vibrations caused by the course correction?

With sudden decision, he reached for his blaster gun, got up and made his way aft towards the prisoners’ cage.

The distance between the Doctor and the spaceship had widened considerably. The Doctor’s natural inclination was to ‘swim’ back to the hull, but in airless space this was impossible. The Master had but to give one further short burst from the rocket motors, and the Doctor would be parted from the spaceship for ever.

Then he got an idea. The basis of rocket propulsion in the vacuum of Space was that the release of energy in one direction caused the source of that energy, for instance a spaceship, to move in the opposite direction. Quickly he reached to the oxygen cylinders strapped on his back and uncoupled the main tube that led to his helmet, taking care to hold his breath like an underwater swimmer, and to hold his thumb over the end of the tube. He pointed the tube away from the spaceship and gently raised his thumb. At that moment precious oxygen was escaping into the void. But slowly, at first imperceptibly, he started to drift back towards the spaceship. His lungs bursting, he re-coupled the tube, hoping that the drift would continue under its own momentum. With terrifying slowness he reached the spaceship and grabbed one of the hand-holds. A few moments later he was standing by the external door of the flight deck. Looking through a port-hole he saw the captain’s seat empty and the door aft closed. It meant he could open the external door without robbing the spaceship of its entire oxygen, which would have killed Jo and the Master. As he prised open the external hatch it crossed his mind as odd that the Master had deserted his command position.

Jo kept up her conversation with the dummy of the Doctor. ‘You see. Doctor, you really shouldn’t take such risks. You’re not as young as you were, over seven hundred years old according to you, and one of these days your luck will run out—’

The Master’s voice cut in on her monologue. ‘Very touching, Miss Grant, but you can drop this masquerade now.’

She jumped. On the other side of the bars the Master stood pointing his blaster gun. With a cunning smile he reached through the bars and ripped away the bunk blankets, revealing the Doctor’s dummy. ‘Now, young lady, where is the Doctor?’

There was no use pretending. ‘He found a space suit and went outside.’