Doctor Who: The Twin Dilemma (12 page)

It was Mestor, showing off again.

'Welcome to Jaconda, Doctor,' the voice hissed. 'Although I would have thought it more polite if you had announced your presence without me having to seek you out.'

'Actually I didn't come to see you. Although I'm sure you won't be disappointed in having me around,' the Doctor said casually.

'Especially as I think I can help you.'

Azmael stiffened, expecting Mestor to violently lose his temper.

' You help meT

That's right,' chirped the Doctor. 'Azmael has been telling me of your plan to shift the orbit of two of your planets. Very impressive.'

As he spoke, the Doctor strolled through the hologram image of Mestor, something, instinct told him, the gastropod wouldn't like.

He was right.

A sudden roar filled the laboratory, but before Mestor could follow it up, the Doctor continued. 'Mind you, moving planets isn't for amateurs, you know. The twins may possess the mathematical knowledge, but I have the empirical skill, the practical experience that will guarantee success. I mean, one false move and the planet you're trying to shift could fly off in any direction.'

He paused. If Mestor was interested in what the Doctor was saying, he would be eager to hear more. If he continued to shout and bluster, then the Doctor knew he was in trouble.

There was silence.

Although Mestor considered himself clever, the psychological strategy of bullying a victim into submission was an uninspired one. Fear, induced by bullying, can only be a useful weapon when its user can deliver the coup de grace knowing he has nothing to lose.

Silence from a bully tells his opponent far too much.

If Mestor had been as clever as he thought he was, he would have learnt that a quieter way to domination leaves the opponent far more shattered than the loudest shout.

Not only did the Doctor know he had Mestor's interest, his silence also told him he was less certain of his skill in successfully manoeuvring the planets than he was letting on.

'Well?' the Doctor said at last. 'Are you interested in my help?'

'Why should I want you to help me?'

'I would rather you were successful in your aims, than you destroy this part of the universe.'

'You are telling the truth, Time Lord?'

The Doctor let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh he had intended to sound ironic. In spite of his confidence, the pressure was beginning to tell on him as well.

In an attempt to correct his error, the Doctor pulled his voice down a full half octave and said with as much assurance as he could muster, 'You should know. I can sense your presence in my mind.'

'Then why do you resist me?'

'I'm secretive by nature. Anyway, if you were to learn everything too soon, you would have little reason to keep me alive.'

True, Doctor.' Mestor's voice was now hard and cold, aware that the Time Lord was playing with him. 'You may serve me, but should I sense any deception on your part, than I shall have you put to death immediately.'

'Oh, absolutely,' said the Doctor dismissively. 'But before I start work, I have one request to make.'

The Doctor mentally crossed his fingers. 'I believe you have a friend of mine prisoner.'

The woman from Earth. She is here.'

'I shall need her to assist me.'

The hologram flickered and the Doctor feared that its disappearance would be Mestor's dismissive answer.

'I have scanned her mind. It contains little but a scant knowledge of botany and certainly nothing that would assist you in your task.'

The Doctor cleared his throat. 'When I say I require her assistance, I mean that in a metaphorical way. Her presence inspires within me a certain tranquility that is most useful if I am to do my best work.'

Again, the hologram flickered. 'Oh, very well,' said Mestor. 'You may have your intellectual prop.'

Inside his head, the Doctor gave a small cheer. If anyone was numbering the rounds, he had definitely won the first. 'I am indeed grateful, Lord Mestor.'

As he spoke, the Doctor glanced at the grey, drawn face of Azmael. The poor man looked as though he was about to collapse.

'Perhaps you could do me one last favour,' he said cheekily.

'Azmael is in need of a mild stimulant. Perhaps Peri could bring a bottle of Voxnic with her.'

There was a loud roar and the hologram disappeared.

'Incredible,' muttered Azmael. 'I've never heard anyone talk to Mestor in such a manner and live.'

This is just the beginning,' the Doctor teased.

The next time you do something as foolish, I would be grateful for prior warning. I'm too old to cope with this sort of strain.'

A groan from a slumped figure, perched precariously on a hard, wooden chair, served to announce that Lieutenant Hugo Lang was regaining consciousness. Drak, for ever caring and vigilant, crossed to attend to him.

In spite of his initial victory, the Doctor still felt uneasy.

Something wasn't quite right. The astronomical model still worried him and, in spite of everything, Mestor had given in just a little too easily.

But before the air of triumph was allowed to fade, the Doctor ordered the guards with the exception of Drak from the laboratory.

It would be difficult enough to operate knowing that Mestor could tune in whenever he wanted without having guards looking over his shoulder.

Much to everyone's amazement they left without argument. But then seconds before the Doctor had uttered his command, Mestor had ordered them to leave and find his TARDIS.

If the Doctor was planning to escape, Mestor had reasoned, he certainly wasn't going to make it easy for him.

As the Doctor, deep in thought, paced up and down the laboratory, the door opened and, clutching a large bottle of Voxnic, Peri sheepishly entered.

Thanks for getting me out of trouble,' she mewed.

The Doctor dismissed her thanks with a wave of the hand and continued his pacing.

As he did so, Azmael, Hugo and Drak fell on the bottle of Voxnic and quickly poured and drank a large beakerful each. As they refilled their cups with more of the golden liquid, Azmael enquired if anyone else wanted a drink. The Doctor didn't answer and Peri shook her head politely.

Although the twins showed great interest, Azmael, somewhat paternally, decided they were too young, but in reality, felt his need was greater than theirs.

As Azmael downed his second beaker, the familiar glow the twins knew only too well from their father spread slowly across his face.

Even Peri noticed the change and thought she might try a little herself. As she picked up the bottle, the Doctor let out a sudden shout.

'That's it! I knew there was something wrong.'

His voice sounded a little manic and it worried Peri. 'Are you all right?'

'Of course I'm all right,' he shouted, snatching up the Voxnic and taking a large mouthful. 'I'm certainly all right. It's the situation that's wrong!'

He slammed the bottle down on the table as though to enforce his statement. 'Look at this,' he said crossing to the astronomical model. 'Correct me if I'm wrong, Azmael, but you said this model was to scale.'

The elderly Time Lord nodded.

Then look at the planets to be moved,' he said prodding each of them in turn. 'Both of them are smaller than Jaconda.'

That was obvious.

The Doctor turned to Azmael who was about to slurp his way through a third beakerful of Voxnic. Think of the consequences, old friend, if those planets should be brought into the same orbit as Jaconda.'

Azmael did, but nothing startling occurred to him.

Think again,' the Doctor insisted. 'It's a matter of simple physics.'

Simple or not, Azmael still couldn't see what he was supposed to.

'Can't you give us a clue?' prompted Peri.

The Doctor thought for a moment. The gravitational pull of the sun on Jaconda is more or less constant. Yes?'

Peri shrugged. Til take your word for it.'

'Place the two smaller planets in the same orbit as Jaconda and how long do you think they'd remain there?'

Slowly Azmael placed his beaker on the table. 'Why didn't I realise?' he stammered. They wouldn't last any time at all.'

'Why not?' enquired Peri.

'Because their orbit would rapidly decay and they would crash into the sun.' Azmael buried his head in his hands. 'Why, oh why didn't I think of that myself?'

The Doctor placed a reassuring arm around his old friend's shoulder. 'Your mind has been on other things.'

'But I should have known at once,' wailed Azmael. 'You're absolutely right. It's basic physics.'

'And when the planet hits the sun,' muttered Hugo, 'it'll be like the birth of a super nova.'

The Doctor glanced at Hugo as though he had forgotten he was in the room. That's right.'

Hugo emptied his beaker. 'Do you think Mestor knows what will happen?'

The Doctor nodded.

Then why does he allow it?' said Peri. 'He'll be killed too.'

The Doctor smiled at her naivety. 'I have the feeling he'll be long gone by then.'

Watched by Drak, the group settled into an atmosphere of silent depression. Yet the same question pounded through each and every brain in the room: what did Meslor hope to achieve by deliberately destroying his own sun?

Soon they would find out.

The Doctor stared at the glass partition which separated Mestor's hatchery from the laboratory area, and allowed his mind to flick through the many pages of his long memory, hoping some half-forgotten incident might jog his inspiration into solving the current problem.

But it didn't.

All he seemed able to recall were faces and fragments of incidents, some of which he would rather have forgotten.

He recalled Jo Grant, with her soft, pretty face, framed by her always perfectly groomed, blond hair. He remembered Tegan, Leela, Zoe and Jamie. Even Turlough, the only companion who had seriously tried to kill him, flittered in and out of images of Nyssa, Romana and Liz Shaw.

But the image that danced most frequently across the history of time was that of Adric, for he performed the most grotesque caper of all, that of the Dance of Death.

Adric who, despite possessing a mathematical skill equal to the twins, had always managed to aggravate everyone aboard the TARDIS with his childish antics denying him the thing he desired most: to be loved and accepted for what he was.

It was Adric who had been killed whilst trying to divert a freighter, controlled by the Cybermen, from crashing into prehistoric Earth.

Stubborn Adric, who had refused to leave the ship and had given his life to help others.

It was this memory that the Doctor feared most. Not only had he been forced to stand helplessly by, but the boy had died without the Doctor ever being able to fully praise, help or ultimately like. It was these feelings that made Adric the saddest and most painful memory of all.

The Doctor shook his head as though trying to shake himself free of the unpleasant image. It wasn't the time to remember such things. He had more urgent problems to occupy his mind.

Slowly he refocussed his eyes so that his gaze passed through the glass partition and into the hatchery beyond.

The technicians had gone and the conveyor belt was stationary.

The level of lighting had also been reduced, creating dense, eerie shadows.

The sight made the Doctor feel uneasy and he climbed to his feet, crossed to the control box situated at the side of the partition and fiddled with one of the switches.

Slowly the lights came up inside the hatchery, forcing the shadows to hide. 'What's this?'

Azmael ambled over to join the Doctor. 'Mestor's hatchery.'

'Can we get into it?'

The elderly Time Lord operated another lever on the control panel and, as the heavy partition started to rise, Peri crossed the room and joined them.

'Why do you want to go in there?' she enquired.

'I'm curious.'

Peri glanced at Azmael and hoping for his support said: 'But do we have the time?'

If Azmael agreed with the question, he didn't care to pursue it, as he remained silent.

Neither did the Doctor answer. Something was aggravating him, gnawing at the back of his mind.

With the partition fully open, the trio entered the hatchery. As they scrambled past the conveyor belt, they entered the dark cavern which was the main incubation area. It was hot and sticky and gave off a pungent, fruity smell.

As their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, it became apparent that the cavern went on for miles. Packed around its walls were millions of eggs, each one fitting neatly and precisely into a purpose-built slot.

Cautiously, the Doctor moved to one of the racks and lifted out an egg. It was the approximate size and shape of a rugby ball and weighed about one kilo. Cupping it in his hands, the Doctor seemed to be assessing the egg, trying to work out what was wrong with it. For something was missing, something that was so natural and obvious it took the Time Lord a full minute to realise what it was.

Without comment, the Doctor handed the egg to Peri and quickly moved to another rack. Carefully he felt all the eggs housed in it, and like the first one, they were dry.

'Something wrong?' enquired Peri.

There certainly is. If these are gastropod eggs, why are they dry?

Where is the mucus, the jelly, the food which nourishes the young within?'

Peri shrugged and then looked down at the egg. It certainly was dry, but then the sort of slugs she was used to didn't come two metres high and talk!

'There's something wrong,' said the Doctor, snatching the egg from his companion. 'This may be the answer we've been looking for.'

Peri and Azmael followed as the Doctor made his way back to the laboratory area. T must see what's inside this egg,' he said placing it on a work bench. 'I shall need a laser cutter.'

Azmael rummaged momentarily in a cabinet and handed the Doctor what he wanted. The Doctor immediately set to work, allowing the white hot beam of light to focus on a single spot of the rubbery shell.