Doctor Who_ Match of the Day - Chris Boucher [11]
‘This is the arena,’ the man went on in the same didactic slightly theatrical tone. ‘This is the theatre of dreams. You have no choice.’
‘There is always a choice,’ Leela said.
The small man in grey gave up. He gestured the security men forward. ‘Arrest her,’ he said waving dismissively in Leela’s direction.
‘Wait a minute.’ The Doctor put a protective arm in front of Leela. ‘You’re planning to arrest her for not killing someone?
That’s perverse.’
‘Who are you exactly?’ The small man in grey managed to make the question sound dismissive, more like an insult than a question.
‘I’m the Doctor. Who are you exactly?’ The Doctor echoed the man’s tone more or less exactly.
The man did not react. ‘Are you her agent, her manager, what?’
‘I’m responsible for her,’ the Doctor said. ‘And you didn’t answer my question.’
‘Question?’
‘Who are you?’
‘You really don’t know?’ The man looked theatrically sceptical.
‘Escaped lunatic,’ the Doctor suggested, ‘head of security, what?’
‘I’m the Senior Umpire and in this instance I’m the de facto match referee.’
‘Shouldn’t you be wearing black,’ the Doctor said. ‘I seem to remember there was a chant: who’s the person in the black?
No I don’t think that was it...’
‘I’m declaring a rule violation,’ the man said. ‘Your client has left me no choice. The contest is void.’
Jarvis opened his eyes. ‘Is that official?’ he asked.
The referee ignored him. ‘Your client will appear at the Court of Attack,’ he went on, ‘at which time I assume you will wish to represent her.’
Jarvis struggled up into a sitting position. ‘Give me back my gun,’ he said, ‘and I’ll deal with the little bitch now.’
The referee went to where Leela had thrown Jarvis’s handgun and picked it up. He bustled back with it.
‘There’s no reason to waste the court’s time,’ Jarvis continued, ‘on some scuffling chancer. Let’s see her outrun a bullet.’
The referee cocked the handgun. The Doctor stepped in front of Leela. ‘I don’t know what you people have got in mind,’ he said. ‘But it isn’t going to happen.’
Casually the referee shot Jarvis through the top of the head. ‘As I was saying; I assume you’ll wish to represent your client at the Court of Attack. Do you wish to accompany her into custody?’
‘Yes,’ the Doctor said, staring at the body of the dead security man. Bone fragments, blood and brain matter had splattered into the sand and Jarvis had slumped forward, a sudden limp and sagging parody of life.
‘You do realise the seriousness of her position?’ the referee said.
Leela was trying to get past the Doctor but he held her behind him with a restraining arm. ‘I’m beginning to,’ he said.
‘I am not afraid of these people,’ Leela protested.
The Doctor said, ‘As contests go summary execution is a bit one-sided.’
The referee handed the gun to one of the security men. ‘He should have been dead already,’ he said, flicking imaginary specks from his grey uniform. ‘And his attitude and behaviour confirmed the problem.’ He frowned up at the Doctor. ‘I realise you people don’t have to be qualified but you’re not going to be much help to your fighter without at least a rudimentary understanding of the rulebook.’
‘There’s a rulebook for such deliberate murder?’ the Doctor asked.
‘I won’t dignify that with an answer,’ the referee said.
‘It was a silly question,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘There’s always a rulebook. Every culture has a rulebook and they’re all different and they’re all convenient for somebody.’
The referee turned his attention to the squad of security men. ‘I want every particle of that cleaned up,’ he said indicating Jarvis and the mess that had been his head. ‘It cannot be allowed to contaminate the arena.’
‘No sacred death marks involved then,’ the Doctor murmured.
‘There was nothing sacred about any of this,’ the referee said. ‘It was a scuffle not a fight.’
Leela said, ‘A fight is a fight. If it is fought honestly between warriors it is honourable but it is just a fight.’
‘You should have thought of that,’ the referee said, ‘before you decided that the