Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [107]
Had he escaped the veiled tyranny of the Time Lords, just to become the servant of an alien will?
He could pretend, of course, just to gain time. The seeding wouldn’t start until the end of the Mass Assimilation. But then what? From Dame Hilda’s explanation, it was quite clear that there was no resisting the implantation of the seed.
If he said no, he was dead, with no hope of regeneration, and it would be no help to the youngsters outside.
But saying yes wouldn’t help them either, and he would be actively helping in the enslavement - maybe even the destruction - of the entire human race.
Round and round went his thoughts. A decision seemed impossible.
‘Well, Doctor? Mother has offered you mercy. Do you accept?’
Round and round...
Round and round?
Of course! There was one last chance - a slender one, true but...
‘I accept,’ said the Doctor.
He was going to make jolly sure it didn’t happen again. He had to admit a sort of sneaking admiration for the way Emma had made it to the front, though. Even Mama would have approved. What a wife she’d make!
They still had to hang around. Not very organised, this lot.
After all, what did it take to sort out a few rewards?
He wondered what his might be. He’d always fancied a Merc, and Mama had promised him one as soon as he passed his test; and if he hadn’t had such a wimp of a driving instructor, he’d have passed it and got one in the last summer hols.
But of course, they wouldn’t have brought a Merc all the way out here. It had to be something more portable...
His ruminations were interrupted as the shining mahogany doors swung wide open.
‘First sixteen only, right?’ said the officious guard in charge.
Jeremy took great pleasure in giving him what he felt was a good imitation of one of Mama’s looks as he marched through at the head of the column; but then...
He took it all back. This was a knockout!
He’d been pretty impressed when they’d had a guided tour round the temple after they’d disembarked from the Skang.
All the white marble seats and stuff were really something.
And the enormous painting or tapestry or whatever it was, on the wall at the back, had made him go all goose-pimply.
But now, they’d managed to set up this colossal Skang figure, all covered with flashing lights! Sort of animated, too.
He’d seen nothing like it since Uncle Teddy had taken him to Olympia when he was ten to see Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs on Ice, and the Prince’s castle at the end lit up like a Christmas tree. And this was even better.
It had paid off, getting to the top of the queue, because he was escorted right to the front where he’d get a really good view of the ceremony. Probably a bit like Speech Day at school, only this time he was one of the prizewinners.
No sign of Emma. There must be a back way out.
And no sign of the teachers...
Ha! How stupid could you get? Obviously, it was the teachers who were all dressed up. Bit over the top, perhaps, but jolly good fun.
There was a lot of chattering going on as they sorted themselves out, with one of the faithful sitting next to each teacher. A jolly good way of doing it. So as you couldn’t get things wrong. He wondered who he was sitting next to. Could be Brother Alex or anybody; there was no way of telling, with the masks and all.
The big doors had been closed behind them, and the teacher on the stage held up his hands - her hands? - to shut them all up.
‘My children...’ she started.
It was Mother Hilda! You’d never have guessed. Brilliant costumes.
‘I think of you as my children,’ she went on, ‘even though I haven’t met all of you lace to face.’
He’d met her! Had a drink with her, hadn’t he?
‘I want you to know that you have my gratitude - and my love - for all your dedication, your commitment, your devotion. Now you are going to get your reward.’
Goodoh! About time too.
But then she started rabbiting on about the nature of reality and stuff, and how everybody was the same as everybody else