Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [86]
‘What indeed.’ The Doctor’s eyes were steely grey, reflecting the static in the monitor screen. ‘You know Mr Lukos, I really don’t think that enough care has been taken over my foray into television. Oh, without doubt your sordid little adventure has had spectacular sets, stunning effects, and the performances have been first class, but it lacked soul.’
He knelt down. ‘You have missed the point, Mr Lukos.
You have put glitz and glamour and violence in place of meaning, and substance. I live my life in my own way, and I won’t be forced into a mould that someone else thinks I should be fitted into. I cannot be standardised, or compartmentalised, or Hollywoodised. I will not be written against type or censored. In short, I am a broadcasting phenomenon. There is nothing else like me. I am unique, and you haven’t handled me properly.’
He snatched the remote control from Lukos’s hand and stabbed at the buttons. ‘I am cancelling this show, Mr Lukas.
Taking myself off the air, indefinitely.’
The screens went dead.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Magnificent control, perfect timing. Keep your audience guessing right to the end!’
Breame was giddy with excitement, his pen dancing across the page of his notebook. ‘So many unanswered questions though Doctor, and as a professional setter of riddles and clues I really must know everything.’
The Doctor, Ace and Breame were back at Gatti’s house.
The Rooths were almost beside themselves. There hadn’t been a single broadcast from Channel 400 all day. Finally, in frustration, Gatti had shooed her family out into the garden.
The Doctor was perched on the edge of a rocking chair.
Ace was curled up asleep on the sofa. The Doctor looked at her with concern in his eyes. She had been through a lot, more than usual. He needed to talk to her, but here was not the place, now not the time.
‘Doctor, please!’ Breame was getting excited.
‘All right, Me Breame, all right.’ The Doctor waved him into silence.
‘The possibility that the Master was going to betray me to the Fleshsmiths had always been in my mind. From the moment I learnt that the DNA sequencer was capable of producing clones I had the idea for my double. A short-lived golem that would draw attention away from me. My problem was always how to get in there undetected by either the Master or the cameras.’
‘So you used the Zzinbriizi to provide the perfect diversion.’ Gatti emerged from the kitchen with coffees.
‘Precisely. Releasing the animals from their pens presented the jackals with an irresistible target, and in the confusion I was able to slip away and create the clone.’
‘Leaving the clone to get captured.’
The Doctor nodded and sipped at his coffee.
‘But what about your return here, the substitution of the fake TARDIS?’
‘Really, Mr Breame, I would have thought that was obvious. With my clone captured I was able to reach the Master’s TARDIS undetected and get to my own. The substitute TARDIS has been in the field for days, I swapped it for a fake police box before Ace and I even tried our first breakin. The real TARDIS has been safely hidden in an empty office block in the centre of town. Once I had reached my own ship and returned the Master’s TARDIS to Scrantek, it was simply a question of watching and waiting.’
‘So you saw everything that Ace went through, you knew what was going on here, and did nothing to help?’ Gatti’s tone was accusing.
The Doctor looked sheepish. ‘Well, I had to keep out of the way to ensure that my copy was forced into the DNA sequencer. Besides, I took another detour to the moon, just in case things went wrong.’ He dropped a piece of equipment on to the table. ‘A power-limiter. The transmitters on Blinni-Orkos are liable to be scrap metal by now.’
Breame opened his mouth to ask another question. The Doctor held up his hands. ‘The copy was short-lived and unstable, loaded with an unravelling DNA sequence that set up a cascade effect in the Fleshsmiths’ machinery.’ He peered sadly into his coffee cup. ‘It set up an infection throughout their entire planetary infrastructure,