Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [73]
All the Doctor’s instincts screamed at him to run, to get away from the Master at the first opportunity. He couldn’t be trusted, he could never be trusted, But there was a part of him that just wanted to help, wanted to get the Master the body he so desperately needed. The Doctor sighed. Perhaps then he could be content. Perhaps then that overwhelming drive would leave him and he could have some measure of peace.
Barrock was suddenly in front of him, beady eyes drilling into his own. ‘Plotting, Doctor?’
The Doctor smiled wearily. ‘No, Barrock. There are already far too many plots for me to deal with.’
‘Good.’ The Zzinbriizi raised the gun. ‘Because I will not hesitate to kill you if I suspect treachery.’
He turned away.
‘It’s a burden, isn’t it? This new intelligence, this ability to reason.’ The Doctor’s voice echoed around the cavernous gloom.
Barrock turned slowly, anger flaring in his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
The Doctor was scratching at the dirt on the floor with the tip of his umbrella. ‘I mean that life was so much easier for you when it was just the hunt, you and your prey, nothing more.’ He looked up, his eyes dark and dangerous. ‘How long since you were just an animal of instinct, Barrock? How long since the Fleshsmiths gave you the ability to deceive, to be treacherous, to revel in the death of your own kind?’
‘Kreeth was an irritation,’ snarled the jackal. ‘He was getting in the way of my plans.’
‘He was a Zzinbriizi, acting with his claws not his brain.’
‘He was an animal.’
‘And what are you, Barrock?’ The Doctor stepped closer, his voice low. ‘What schemes are being hatched in that new brain? What plans are you laying?’
He waved an arm around. ‘You are surrounded by beings to whom treachery is an ancient art, not a new toy. You think that you can control what is going on but every move you make has been anticipated, catered for.’
Barrock’s claws flashed to the Doctor’s throat. ‘Careful, Time Lord. You are becoming an irritation, as Kreeth did.’
The Doctor didn’t flinch. ‘Then perhaps my instincts are a sharp as his.’
‘And perhaps you will soon be as dead as he is.’
The Doctor shot a look at the Master, remembering the blood lust in his eyes, his teeth tearing at Kreeth’s throat.
‘You might be right, there.’
Barrock leant close, his hot breath washing across the Doctor’s face.
‘The Fleshsmiths gave me enough intelligence to be of use to them, Doctor, enough so that I would be a useful tool. But my kind has been used by other beings for too long. Hunted for sport by creatures with no courage, no skill. Treated like pets, like slaves. We are creatures of raw power, true, but to give that power a reason, a goal...’
He bared his teeth. ‘I intend to take this world, Doctor, take this world and the spineless cripples who inhabit it. Oh, it suits my paymasters on Blinni-Gaar that I do so, but there our common interests end. When I return to Ottrase, it will be as the greatest pack leader the planet has ever seen. I will bring my people out of the Stone Age and then the universe will really see what we are capable of.’
He released his grip on the Doctor’s throat. ‘Enough talk.
We must move.’
He pushed the Doctor forward, to where the Master was waiting.
‘Having a little chat with our captors, Doctor? Haven’t you been warned about caged animals?’
The Doctor rubbed at his throat. ‘These particular caged animals are preparing to start a blood bath.’
‘Then at least our captivity should have some entertainment value.’
‘Is that all this is to you?’ exploded the Doctor. ‘A diversion? An amusement?’
‘Yes!’ spat the Master. ‘Everything that I have been put through is because of you, Doctor, because of your gullibility!
I would gladly see the rotting scum of this planet die at the claws of the Zzinbriizi because of all