Doctor Who_ The Power of the Daleks Part 2

'Yes, yes, of course you do. I'm sorry, Bob '

'My name's Ben!'

'Ben! Yes, of course!' The stranger banged the side of his head quite hard. 'Still, I got the first letter right, didn't I?' He smiled happily at Ben. 'Yes, this must be a bit confusing for you'

'A bit?' Ben was taken aback by the remark. 'Blimey, you don't exaggerate, do you?'

The little man turned to look up at Polly. His eyes sparkled and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly jabbed a finger towards her and she jumped back.

'Keep away!' she cried.

Frowning, the stranger folded his finger swiftly back into his palm. 'I don't look as bad as all that, do I...' He concentrated. 'Polly? Yes, Polly!' He clapped his hands and laughed in childish glee. 'It's beginning to work again!'

'What is?' Polly asked, obviously interested despite her fears.

He didn't answer her directly. Instead he gripped the bridge of his nose between a finger and thumb and shook his head slightly. Then he tapped his temple. 'Just like a whirling roundabout in here, you know.' He gave her a knowing look. 'Very painful.'

Ben had had quite enough of this clown. He glared down at him. 'What have you done to the Doctor?' he demanded.

The stranger drew himself up to his full height, staring Ben right in the chin. 'I am am the Doctor,' he announced. the Doctor,' he announced.

3.

I Think We'll Make Some Changes 'No, you're not!' Ben snapped back.

The infuriating little man just c.o.c.ked his head to one side and raised his right eyebrow slight. 'Because I look different?'

'You're completely different,' Polly told him.

'I a.s.sure you ' he began, but Ben cut him off.

'You can make all the a.s.surances you like, mate, but you're not the Doctor.'

Biting his lower lip, the stranger turned his brown eyes from one to the other. He seemed to have suddenly realized that they didn't trust him. 'I see,' he said quietly. 'Two against one, is it?'

Polly opened her clenched fist. In her palm lay the ring she had picked up from under the console. 'The Doctor always wore this,' she said, challenging him.

Ben grabbed the other man's hand and held it up.

Hesitantly, Polly slipped the ring on to the man's finger. It was far too large for him. Ben gave a triumphant grin.

'That settles it, doesn't it?'

Pulling his hand free of Ben's grip, the little man sniffed loudly. 'I'd like to see a b.u.t.terfly fit back into a chrysalis case after it spreads its wings.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Ben demanded belligerently.

'It means that life depends on change and renewal.' He stretched up high, then bent to touch his toes before straightening up and smiling again. 'I have just been renewed.'

Polly slipped the Doctor's ring into her pocket, staring at the man with wonder. 'Then you did change!' she exclaimed.

Darting a filthy look at Polly for going over to the enemy side, Ben refused to surrender his suspicions so easily. 'Must be very useful,' he said sarcastically, 'this renewal business.'

Refusing to back down, Polly jumped to defend the person she was now almost certain was the Doctor. 'It sounds like fun.'

That was the wrong thing to say. The maybe-Doctor turned on her angrily. 'It can be agonizing!' he snapped.

'No one would ever submit to a process like that voluntarily!'

Even Ben was taken aback by the ferocity in his voice.

'But you said...' he started to break in weakly.

'I fought it!' The little man came down from his angry pinnacle almost to sorrow. 'I couldn't stop myself.' He shook his head. 'But I couldn't resist. It is a part of the TARDIS. Without it I could not survive. It is over seven hundred and fifty years since I left my home planet.'

Polly touched his arm gently, as if trying to soothe his pain. 'Then it hasn't happened to you before?' she asked.

The maybe-Doctor looked up at her. 'May I have my ring back?' he asked abruptly, holding out his hand.

Polly flushed, as if she'd been accused of stealing it.

Pulling it from her pocket, she handed it over. The little man took it from her and crossed to another of the many trunks in the room. He threw the lid open to reveal a glittering array of jewellery. Polly let out an astonished gasp, and Ben couldn't blame her. Neither of them had had any idea that the Doctor possessed such a stock.

The stranger smiled knowingly at them, and Ben was a little shaken. If this man wasn't the Doctor, how had he gone straight to this trunk? His doubts were not helped by what the little man said next.

Holding up an ornamental dagger inlaid with precious stones, he commented: 'A gift from Saladin, during the Crusades. The Doctor was a great collector, wasn't he?'

'But you're you're the Doctor,' Polly protested. 'Aren't you?' the Doctor,' Polly protested. 'Aren't you?'

'Am I?' He stared at both of them.

Ben didn't like the way that the odd man had referred to the Doctor using the past tense. As if he were dead. An awful suspicion slipped into his mind: he'd been a.s.suming that the Doctor had been kidnapped and replaced by this foe. But what if this man had killed the Doctor and taken his place? Then what? Would he try and eliminate them next?

Turning back to the chest, the newcomer held up a large earring. 'I used to wear this at one time. Very fas.h.i.+onable once...' He replaced it and then held up a thick bracelet that looked as if it were solid gold. There were odd pictures on it that Ben couldn't quite make out. Putting it back, he gave them a cheery smile. 'I really must dip into my collection more often' He was like a child playing with new toys. With an excited gasp, he pulled out a jade brooch. 'A memory of a visit to the Aztecs,' he told them. 'It was given to me by Cameca, a most extraordinary woman.' He sighed.

The next item he picked up was a dull triangle of metal. It looked worthless to Ben, but it clearly meant a lot to this odd figure. 'My granddaughter Susan gave me this,' he told them. 'We were on Skaro, fighting the Daleks. She picked this up on one visit to their control room.' He dropped the piece back and slammed the lid.

Peering at them, he shook his head sadly. 'Still not convinced? Well, it'll take time, I suppose.'

'It'll take a lot more than that, mate,' Ben told him angrily. Were they supposed to have been convinced by his so-called 'memories'? There was no way they could have checked what he was claiming. 'Like common sense. The Doctor falls down in agony and then you get up dolled up in new togs and everything. Do me a favour!'

The little man gnawed at his lower lip. 'I don't understand your brand of common sense, Ben,' he said.

'Does it grasp the principles of time travel?' He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

'Well,' Ben bl.u.s.tered, 'I don't know all of the ins and outs, of course, but '

'But you do know it's possible?'

'Well, yes,' Ben had to concede.

Turning to Polly, the stranger said: 'And you, Polly.

You can, of course, explain how the TARDIS has the shape of a small police box outside and yet is far, far bigger once you step through the doors?'

'No,' Polly admitted. 'No, I can't explain it.'

'Yet both of you accept the two things.' The man spread his hands and looked at them expectantly.

Ben was confused and angry. 'Well, we know that they happen!' was the best he could manage.

'Exactly,' the maybe-Doctor replied. 'Then accept what has happened to me even if you don't understand it.' He began gnawing on his thumb-nail. 'The Doctor kept a diary, didn't he?' he asked rhetorically. Ben realized he was speaking as if the Doctor were someone else again. These abrupt s.h.i.+lls in p.r.o.noun were making Ben's head whirl.

'Now, where would it be?' He started to ransack the chests again. After a moment, he gave a happy cry and straightened up.

It wasn't a diary that he held but some sort of flute. No, Ben realized, remembering his days at school, it was a recorder. Putting it to his lips, the stranger blew a single note. It was ear-piercingly high and sharp, and Ben winced. Then, as if he were trying to remember how to work the recorder, the little man ran through the first couple of bars of a tune that Ben actually recognized The Fisher's Hornpipe and shuffled his feet in time with the music. Abruptly losing interest, the man stuffed the recorder into one of his huge pockets and dived back into the trunk again. A moment later he emerged clutching a large black book. It was one of those leather-bound volumes with a strap on the side and a lock. Ben caught a glimpse of the words 500 YEAR DIARY on the cover before the volume joined the recorder in the odd man's pocket.

What was he up to? Ben couldn't recall the Doctor ever writing anything in the book, but there was an awful lot he didn't know about the Doctor. Was that book filled with some of the Doctor's secrets, and was this fake trying to steal them? Ben was wondering if he should try and get the book back when the other man leapt to his feet again.

'We must have landed some time ago,' he announced. 'I think I'll just pop out for a stroll.' He scuttled back towards the control room. Polly and Ben gave each a quick, puzzled glance, then shot after him. They couldn't risk him mucking about with the controls unsupervised until they were sure of him.

If that time ever came.

Ben skidded to a halt as he reached the control room.

The odd figure now had a ridiculous-looking stovepipe hat crammed off-centre on to his head. It made him look even more like a tramp than before, but he seemed to be very happy with this latest addition to his wardrobe. Ignoring the console, he was heading for the doors, which already stood ajar.

'Oy!' Ben called out, alarmed. The little man frowned and then paused.

'We don't know where we are,' Polly said, shocked.

'You should have checked the oxygen, the temperature...' Ben gestured towards the dials. 'The Doctor Doctor always did.' always did.'

'Yes,' the other man agreed. 'Bit of a stickler for such things, wasn't he?' He sniffed, clearly not in approval.

Raising his eyes to look at the ceiling, he recited: 'Oxygen density one-seven-two, radiation nil, temperature eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit, faint suggestion of mercury.' With another of his cheery smiles, he looked back. 'Now are you satisfied? Are you two coming or not?' He walked towards the doors. Then he paused and looked over his shoulder.

His eyes flickered about the room, settling briefly on Ben and Polly. 'Yes, I think I'll make some changes.' Then he ducked out through the doors.

Ben felt a hill that wasn't from the cold. Changes? Changes? he wondered. What did this man mean? Was he talking about redecorating the TARDIS? Or... was the man referring to him and Polly? Was he even now setting a trap, or simply planning to lure them outside and leave them there? he wondered. What did this man mean? Was he talking about redecorating the TARDIS? Or... was the man referring to him and Polly? Was he even now setting a trap, or simply planning to lure them outside and leave them there?

'Ben,' Polly said quietly. He looked at her and saw mirrored in her own eyes the aching indecision he felt.

'What do you think? He must be the Doctor! He knew the readings on the panels!'

Ben felt a need to be more cautious than that. 'Come off it,' he said, a little more roughly than he'd intended. 'He could be making those figures up, for all we know. Can you read these things?' He gestured at the panel. 'It's all double Dutch to me!'

'He did make a sort of sense about time travel and the TARDIS dimensions,' Polly said, changing the subject.

'Yeah, well,' countered Ben, 'I don't think we should believe him blindly, d.u.c.h.ess.' He tapped the side of his nose. 'We'd do as well to watch him every second.'

Polly gave an exasperated sigh. 'And what are we going to call him?' she demanded. 'The only name he's given us is "Doctor"'

Shrugging, Ben replied: 'Then we may as well call him that for now. But let's not forget he's got to provide us with some sort of proof that that's who he really is.'

Polly nodded. 'Then let's be careful, Ben.' She gave a faint smile. 'If we're supposed to watch him every second, shouldn't we be out there now?'

'Strewth!' Ben bolted outside and then halted in wonder.

4.

So You've Come At Last The Doctor had his nose planted firmly in his diary He hated having to read the chicken-like scrawl of ancient High Gallifreyan that his old self had inscribed on the pages in tiny, precise and infuriatingly neat letters. It had kept the contents of the diary safe from prying eyes, but it was such an infernal strain on the eyes to read and the brain to translate. Of course, such things used to be a matter of pride to him at one time not so long ago but now they were of utter indifference to him.

Or, at least, they would be if he could read this nonsense. Squinting at the page, he tried to concentrate on the work of translation. He had to discover what he once knew. The problem with this entire regenerative process was that it scrambled the neurons up a bit. It might be a while before his thought-processes settled down into their new lines. Until then, he needed all the help that he could get. Another section of his mind was ticking over quietly on his other problem: Ben and Polly. The Doctor knew that they hadn't believed his story. They hadn't entirely disbelieved it, of course, but they would be demanding proof for quite some time yet. And, of course, it would be almost impossible for him to give what they wanted. He wasn't entirely certain, but he was pretty sure they hadn't been with him for very long yet. Was it long enough for them to accept his rebirth? Or would they continue to fight belief?

There was just so much to think about. It was a good job he could take a walk outside like this in such...

He paused, pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and coughed. 'Not a very healthy place,' he muttered. For the first time, he lowered the diary and peered around at the landscape.

It was an incredibly desolate-looking place. Not the worst he'd ever seen, of course - virtually nothing was worse than the radioactive slag and ash that the Daleks called home on Skaro - but it was pretty wretched.