Doctor Who: War Games (18 page)

‘It’s no good,’ said the Doctor, taking Jamie’s hand.

‘This has to be goodbye. Don’t go blundering into too much trouble.’ He turned to Zoe and hugged her.

‘Goodbye, my dear.’

‘Will we never see you again?’ she asked in a tiny voice.

‘Who knows,’ said the Doctor. ‘Time is relative. Please, leave me now, and no fuss.’

The Doctor turned away from Jamie and Zoe. Three Time Lords closed in to escort him back to the court.

‘They will both forget me?’ he asked.

‘Not entirely,’ said a Time Lord. ‘They will be returned to a moment in time just before they went away with you.

They will remember only their first adventure with you, but nothing else.’

‘Has my fate been decided yet?’

‘It has,’ said the Time Lord. ‘You will be told by the court.’

A large screen hung from nowhere.

‘Your friend the girl,’ said the great voice. ‘We thought you would wish to see her safe return. Watch.’

The Doctor looked up at the screen. A great wheel-shaped space ship appeared against a backdrop of the twinkling galaxy.

‘She is already on the way in a TARDIS,’ said the voice.

‘She is about to arrive.’

The image changed to a curved corridor inside the wheel in space. Zoe came walking along, her expression a little vague and puzzled. A man came towards her.

‘Zoe! Are you all right?’

She looked at the man blankly. ‘Yes.’

‘Have the Doctor and Jamie gone?’

‘Yes... I’ve just seen them off.’

‘Well,’ said the man, ‘we’d better get back to work. Are you sure you’re all right?’

She hesitated. ‘For a moment I thought I’d forgotten something important. But it’s nothing.’

‘Come along, then,’ said the man. He started off down the corridor.

‘All right. I’m coming.’ She paused and frowned. Then she shook her head, as though discarding some memory, and followed the man. The screen went blank.

‘Thank you,’ said the Doctor. ‘It was considerate of you to let me see that she’s all right.’

The voice spoke again. ‘The young man, Jamie, has just arrived back on his planet. Again you may watch.’

The screen showed Scottish moorland. The dematerialisation sound of a TARDIS could be heard. Jamie picked himself up from the heather where the Time Lords had laid him. He rubbed his forehead as he regained his senses. A shot rang out. Some distance away a solitary English redcoat had fired at Jamie. Quickly looking round, Jamie picked up a large piece of wood.

‘Try to murder a Macrimon, would you! You’ll pay for that, Englishman!’

The redcoat, unable to re-load his single-shot rifle before Jamie bore down on him, took to his heels. Jamie went after him gleefully waving his make-do claymore.

The picture faded.

‘As for the soldiers,’ said the voice, ‘they are being returned to their home times as fast as possible.’

‘I’m grateful,’ said the Doctor.

‘And now,’ said the voice, ‘the question of what to do with you. What do you expect us to do with you?’

The Doctor thought. ‘Dematerialisation?’

‘We are not savages.’

‘Perhaps you will sentence me to work in the archives for the next thousand years, something boring like that.’

‘No,’ said the voice. ‘We accept there is evil that must be fought, and that you still have a part to play in that battle.’

The Doctor couldn’t believe his ears. ‘You’re going to set me free?’

‘Not entirely. We have noted your interest in the planet Earth. You seem to have a special knowledge of that world and its problems.’

‘I suppose I have,’ said the Doctor. ‘Earth seems particularly vulnerable to attack by other worlds.’

‘For that reason you will be sent back to that planet, in exile.’

‘Exile?’

‘You will remain there for such time as we deem proper.

During that time the secret of the TARDIS will be taken from you.’

‘Surely,’ the Doctor pleaded, ‘you can’t condemn me to exile on one primitive planet! Besides I’m known on Earth already. It will be very difficult for me.’

‘Your appearance has changed before: it will change again.’

‘You can’t change what I look like without consulting me!’

‘Here is your first choice,’ said the voice. On the screen appeared a man’s face—sunken cheeks, hair white, dull eyes.

‘Good gracious,’ exclaimed the Doctor. ‘Too old!’

The first picture was replaced with another.

‘No, never! Too thin.’

Another picture appeared.

‘Too young. No one would respect me...’

‘You are wasting time,’ said the great voice.

‘It’s not my fault, is it? Is this the best you can do? I’ve never seen such a collection.’

‘The decision will be taken for you.’

‘This is preposterous! I have a right to decide what I look like. People on Earth attach great importance to appearance...’

As he spoke the Doctor vanished from where he had been standing. It was now his face that filled the screen. He looked down angrily.

‘Is this some sort of joke? Put me back where I was!’

The great voice said, ‘The time has come for you to change your appearance and to begin your exile. There will be no further discussion.’

‘I refuse to be treated like this,’ said the Doctor. ‘What are you doing now?’

The Doctor’s face on the screen had begun to revolve, first slowly then fast.

‘Stop!’ his voice cried out. ‘You’re making me giddy... I won’t have it! You can’t do this to me!’

The image of the Doctor’s face spun faster and faster until it became a blur. Finally the screen went blank and the Doctor’s voice was heard no more.

The accusing Time Lord looked upwards. ‘I think you did right. He would never have fitted in back here.’

‘I agree,’ said the great voice. ‘It’s a pity. He would have brightened the place up no end.’

• Front Cover
  
• Rear Cover
  
• Title Page
  
• Copyright
  
• Contents
  
• Prologue
  
• 1 Sentence of Death
  
• 2 Escape
  
• 3 The Time Mist
  
• 4 Back to the Ch�teau
  
• 5 The War Room
  
• 6 The Process
  
• 7 The Security Chief
  
• 8 Battle for the Ch�teau
  
• 9 The Trap
  
• 10 Fall of the War Chief
  
• 11 The Trial of Doctor Who