Island of Death (36 page)

Except, of course, for an explanation of what the Doctor had done to save their lives, because nobody knew what it was.

Now he was going to tell them.

‘That’s the second time I’ve played brinkmanship in as many weeks,’ he went on. ‘It’s not a game I enjoy.’

The Brigadier seemed a bit sniffy, thought Sarah. Nothing that a few drams wouldn’t fix though. Pete Andrews had already poured him a whopper, and left the bottle near him.

The Doctor was enjoying teasing them.

‘Come on, Doctor,’ she said. ‘Be a sport.’

‘Now, Sarah,’ said the Doctor, ‘I’m sure you could give us the answer if you really thought about it.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘it was obviously something to do with the TARDIS circuit thing. And I’d guess it was a time loop.’

Bob Simkins looked up from the rum and peppermint that he was mixing for the Cox’n, who’d been invited to join them.

‘Sorry love,’ he said, ‘but I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, I know that,’ said Chris. A time loop...’

‘Pipe down, Chris,’ said Pete. Go on Doctor. Tell us.’

The Doctor thought for a moment. ‘Not just one time loop. I set the temporal recursion circuit to operate recursively itself, so that it generated thousands of random time loops. That’s why it took me so long. I had to get the dimensional co-ordinates exactly right. And I had to do most of it behind my back in case they saw me.’

‘Each time one of the elements that made up the Great Skang was hit, it was catapulted back to an earlier time in its existence; and there it’ll stay, quite happily going round and round forever, without realising it. But, you see, they’ve all been sent to a different bit of their past. So that particular Great Skang can never be a danger again.’

‘And the human Skang the same?’

‘Of course. Why should they be any different? Their bodies were well over fifty per cent psionic energy deriving from their parent colony, the Great Skang. When that was withdrawn, there was nothing left but a few organic chemicals.’

The Brigadier poured himself another burra peg. ‘Hmm.

Well, Doctor, all’s well that ends well, I suppose. Sounds a bit complicated to me. If you’d given me a few more minutes, I’d have dropped a hand grenade on the thing.’

‘Ah,’ said the Doctor, ‘that would have been an interesting experiment.’

The Brig grunted. ‘Much quicker. And I’d certainly have enjoyed doing it.’

‘I’m sure you would, my dear fellow. If the only answer had been to destroy it - or should I say them? - I’d have done it too, if I could. But I’m glad I was able to do it my way. I gave them the respect due to them as another race of beings with as much right to existence as we have.’

The Brigadier shook his head. ‘I shall never understand you, Doctor.’

‘Since we from Gallifrey share your failings, I understand you - and the rest of humanity - only too well,’ the Doctor replied.

The Brigadier didn’t answer. He just grunted again and took an extra-large swig of whisky.

I don’t understand anybody, thought Sarah. But she wasn’t thinking about the destruction of the Great Skang.

It was the Doctor - and the Brigadier as well - and the way they seemed to take it all so calmly, now it was over, as if saving humanity was all just part of a day’s work. She’d never get used to it herself.

Her whole existence had changed since she met the Doctor.

It wasn’t just the adventures they’d shared - for that’s what they were - it was that she found herself looking at life, her everyday life, in quite a different way. Sometimes, in the past, she’d felt like screaming with frustration when things didn’t go right. Now, life was always worth living, even the infuriating and the boring bits of it. Somehow, everything was brighter and more colourful. It was as if a light had come on.

As for Jeremy, she understood him least of all.

When she’d found him, shaking and almost crying, and comforted him until he was in a fit state to learn what had nearly happened to him - and what had
actually
happened to his sort-of girlfriend - his reaction was not at all what she’d expected.

‘I was at the front of the queue,’ he’d said. ‘Emma was the only one to get the reward. It’s not fair. It should have been me!’

There’s nowt so queer as folk, as her mum used to say.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I didn’t appear in
Doctor Who
when I was earning my living as an actor in television, though my first appearance on the box

- over half a century ago? It can’t be! - was as one of the conspirators helping Guy Fawkes in his plans to blow up Parliament. So what’s that got to do with the price of turnips, as Sarah Jane Smith might say?

Guy Fawkes was played by Patrick Troughton, that’s all; and seventeen years later I was directing him, when he was the Second Doctor, in
The Enemy of the World.

Since then, I’ve never really left
Doctor Who.
Within three years I was the producer, and was responsible for the show during the five years that Jon Pertwee played the part, sometimes directing and writing as well (including one book).

When Jon said that he wanted to leave, I had the job of finding his successor; and we all know who that was, don’t we? My biggest claim to a sort of vicarious fame was undoubtedly my casting of Tom Baker.

I’ve had a great career (so far). I love books, and for over ten years, after handing over Tom and the show to Philip Hinchcliffe, I produced and sometimes directed the BBC ONE

Classic Serial - the Sunday tea-time dramatizations of classic books, such as
Great Expectations, Pinocchio, Jane Eyre.
But even during this era I was in touch with the good Doctor, through conventions and so on. Indeed, this side of the connection has continued right up to the present. Who would grumble at all-expenses-paid trips to Los Angeles, or Florida, or a luxury cruise round the Caribbean, not to mention the innumerable opportunities to meet the fans all over this country?

Not only that: since I left the BBC staff in 1985, I’ve written two
Doctor Who
radio serials and two-and-a-third
Doctor Who
books (the last one,
Deadly Reunion,
I co-wrote with Terrance Dicks).

So here, in the year of the relaunch, which has already proved to be a thumping success, is another story about the Third Doctor. It’s thirty-eight years since, at the age of forty-two, I found myself directing
Doctor Who.
I see no reason why I shouldn’t be involved, one way or another, for the next thirty-eight years.

• Front Cover
  
• Back Cover
  
• CHAPTER ONE
  
• CHAPTER TWO
  
• CHAPTER THREE
  
• CHAPTER FOUR
  
• CHAPTER FIVE
  
• CHAPTER SIX
  
• CHAPTER SEVEN
  
• CHAPTER EIGHT
  
• CHAPTER NINE
  
• CHAPTER TEN
  
• CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
• CHAPTER TWELVE
  
• CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
• CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
• CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
• CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
• CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
• CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
• CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  
• CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  
• CHAPTER THIRTY
  
• CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  
• CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  
• ABOUT THE AUTHOR