Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [65]
A studio assistant bustled to Lukos’ shoulder, hovering nervously.
‘Yes, what?’ Lukos snapped.
‘Call for you, sir, on the special line.’
Lukos felt his heart jump. ‘I’ll take it in my office. Tell Roderik to start wrapping up his part of the show, and tell the studio crew that we are going back to the Doctor’s adventures imminently!’
Lukos bustled through the cramped control room to his lift. The door slid open and he squeezed himself inside.
The final part of the plan was starting to play out. The final chapter.
There was a soft chime as the lift slid to a halt and the door opened into his office. Lukos scampered across the floor to his desk. He settled into his chair, smoothed his jacket, took a deep breath and activated the videophone.
A scarred and weeping face swam into view.
‘Surgeon General, how nice to see you again. Our visitor has arrived intact I trust?’
‘The two Time Lords are ready to be released into the arena. Are your transmissions ready?’
Lukos was indignant. ‘But of course! You are dealing with professionals, not some two-bit fly-by-night outfit.’
‘Are the figures as you anticipated?’ The surgeon general cut across him.
‘Auntie.’
+YES MR LUKOS+
‘Audience predictions, if you please.’
+WITH THE RETURN OF THE DOCTOR TO THE
SCREENS THE PREDICTION IS OF 100 PER CENT OF
THE AUDIENCE SHARE. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FIVE BILLION VIEWERS. ADVERTISING PREMIUMS...+
‘Thank you, Auntie.’ Lukos smiled. ‘As you can see, Surgeon General, figures are exactly as predicted. Now, as to your promises...’
‘You and your people will be protected, Lukos. The screening that we have installed within your studio systems is adequate.’
‘Nevertheless...’
‘Our transmission will begin in seven minutes. Be ready, Lukos.’
The screen went blank. Lukos narrowed his eyes, a sly smile on his face.
‘Oh I’m ready, Surgeon General. More ready than you could possibly imagine.’
On the huge floating screen Saarl was still practising his art. Lukos punched at a control stud. ‘Tell Saarl to wrap up now! The Doctor is back, live in five.’
Chapter Eighteen
The door locked behind Ace with a sharp click. The room was small, but there was an easy chair, a bed and a bathroom. A huge bouquet of flowers stood on a dresser with a note reading
‘Welcome to your dressing room’ pinned to the side of it.
Ace slumped on to the bed, totally drained, feeling more alone than she had ever felt in her life. She had been hauled from the stage to the jeers and cheers of the crowd, paraded in front of them and then whisked into an elevator, bundled into the dressing room and told to wait.
She stared blankly at the screen in the corner. Saarl was still there, whipping the audience into a frenzy, a clock counting down to something.
Too tired to care, Ace curled up on the bed and started to cry.
The Doctor and the Master stepped out into a huge amphitheatre. Lights blazed overhead making the underground cavern as bright as day.
The Doctor stared around with interest. Four cavernous tunnels stretched ahead of them, the rock slick with water, razor-sharp stalactites lining the roof. Camera lenses jutted from every chink in the rock and the Doctor was sure the entire arena was wired for sound.
The Master, dressed in the black suit the Fleshsmiths had given him, stared defiantly around him, scrutinising every detail. He was suddenly powerful and alert, a figure far removed from the scarred pale man who had shared the Doctor’s cell.
‘Well now.’ His eyes blazed with expectation. ‘Do you think that they intend us to fight to the death?’
‘Nothing so mundane.’
The surgeon general’s voice boomed from concealed speakers.
‘You are to continue the struggle that was being played out on Blinni-Gaar. It’s what the audience expects. I believe it’s called continuity.’
‘So I gather