Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [52]
Lukos stood in the centre of the stage that had been erected in Studio Two. Ahead of him was tier upon tier of seats, stretching back into the darkness. All around technicians were busying themselves with cameras and microphones.
Antigravity lifters were positioning hover lights and there was a steady whirr of servos as scene-shifter robots scurried to and fro.
Lukes thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. He loved the moments just prior to a live show. It was like waiting for a stage play, or a concert, but with the knowledge that billions of people would be tuning in.
He crossed the studio floor, pushing through the glittering curtains. In front of him was the Doctor’s TARDIS, resplendent with its new coat of paint. Lukos ran his hands over its side. There was a slight vibration, a hum of power from deep inside. He smiled. The time machine would give him so much. Oh, there was the possibility of unique programming, that was true, but it offered him so much else.
He already had teams of financial advisers poised to let him know the best way the machine could be used to manipulate the stock markets. Not only was he going to be very famous, he was going to be very rich.
He felt a shiver of anticipation. Once again he was about to premier something unique, something that people would talk about for years to come. Vogol Lukos presents the secrets of the Time Lords. Vogol Lukos presents... He always loved that bit at the beginning of his programmes. If nothing else because it irritated Saarl.
He looked around in irritation. Saarl should be here, getting ready for the show. Lukos waved a runner over.
‘Much as I am loath to interfere with the smooth running of the television machine, all this preparation is a mite redundant without our presenter. Where is he?’
‘Mr Saarl was called to make-up about twenty minutes ago, Mr Lukos.’
Lukos nodded and crossed the studio to the make-up room.
Saarl was reclining in a leather chair, a veritable army of make-up artists scampering around him. He looked up in surprise.
‘Vogol. How nice.’
Lukos settled himself into a chair. ‘The girl is in the building. The redoubtable Miss Trasker is leading her a merry dance through the corridors as we speak. Are you ready, my boy?’
Saarl waved a sheaf of papers in the air. ‘Just doing my final rewrites on the script. The writers do try their best, but they never get the little touches right.’
Lukos nodded. ‘Just make sure that you’re ready. I want to be able to go live at a moment’s notice.’
‘Your new star...’
‘Is still acting out his role exactly as planned. But I’m expecting a break in transmission in the very near future.’
The Doctor trotted down the TARDIS corridors, peering at his compass. The Master followed, eyes darting around nervously.
The Doctor frowned. Something was not right with his old enemy. Not just the cheetah infection, something else. The Master had been perfectly capable of locating the control node himself, and he was perfectly capable of locating the control room. It was if he was waiting for something.
The Doctor turned to look at him. The Master was staring back along the corridor, sniffing at the air.
‘Anything?’
The Master didn’t look at him. ‘They are all around, I can sense them. Behind the walls.’
The Doctor nodded. His manipulation of the TARDIS
infrastructure had stretched things a bit thin, and ultimately the corridors all led to the same place: the console room. He had created a maze, but its only advantage was that it was a maze that he knew slightly better than the Zzinbriizi.
The corridor continued to wind and spiral. They were close to the console room, the Doctor was sure of it. They turned a corner. A tangle of passageways all merged into one wide avenue. At its end was a door.
‘That’s it.’
The Doctor slipped the compass back into his pocket. Now it was a simple problem. Had the Zzinbriizi got here before them? They would have had to take the more tortuous route, of