Doctor Who_ Divided Loyalties Part 17

He carefully reached up and activated the TARDIS scanner.

One of the roundels that indented the wall s.h.i.+mmered and gave way to the outside image.

White. A pure white that the Doctor had never seen before.

Not snow, as on the mountains in southern Gallifrey; or paint, such as in the walkways to and from the academicians'

offices.

Just whiteness. Nothingness.

Can we go home now?' murmured Millennia. She had drawn her knees towards her breast and was hugging them, rocking slightly as if to calm herself down.

The Doctor realised he needed to take control of the situation. Borusa always told him never to let a situation take control of him.

And even the voice of the old man on the mountain seemed to penetrate his brain. Your destiny is yours, my boy. External forces can shape it, maybe even direct and influence it, but your destiny lies within you and is determined by what you do with the events you are faced with.'

His two most significant teachers.

This was the time to find out how well they had taught him.

No. To find out how well he he had listened and learnt. had listened and learnt.

After checking the exterior readings and finding them safe, he opened the TARDIS's doors.

The white glare he was expecting wasn't there, and so he gingerly poked his head out.

He could not see a floor, a roof or walls. Just a white void.

Was the TARDIS on solid ground or was it floating?

He got on his hands and knees and patted the nothingness outside the TARDIS's doors. It seemed firm so he stood up again and walked out, holding his breath, preparing to drop.

But no, whatever it was, it was solid. Without looking back, he reached his hand inside the TARDIS, calling for Millennia.

After a second's hesitation, he felt her hand slip into his, her fingers sliding between his and getting a firm grip.

Together they walked out of the TARDIS and looked back. The chameleon circuit hadn't activated - clearly the TARDIS could not read anything from its surroundings to prompt it to create an illusion of change.

How intriguing,' the Doctor muttered.

Look!' Millennia almost took a step back. A path seemed to be laying itself, rus.h.i.+ng towards them, yellow flagstones appearing rapidly, one after the other, three abreast.

No, wait,' said the Doctor, giving her hand a squeeze.

The yellow flagstones stopped their construction at his toes.

Doctor!'

He turned at Millennia's cry. The TARDIS was in the distance, receding rapidly as if being pulled back at great speed. Within seconds, the familiar white dome had blended so perfectly with its surroundings that they couldn't tell if it had ceased to exist or was too far away to be discernible.

Except it was not the TARDIS that had moved - it was them. They found the yellow flagstones beneath their feet and realised the path was moving away as fast as it had arrived.

The slabs behind them were whipped up and moved ahead, forming an ever-moving walkway.

Brilliant,' the Doctor said. Scientifically speaking, this is -'

He stopped. Millennia's face told him everything he needed to know. She was terrified, completely and utterly terrified, and his babbling was not helping her. I'm sorry, my dear,' he said. I do go on a bit.'

When the path stopped moving they were in a square. The floor was a pure white void again, but around them was a wall made from ma.s.sive blocks. At one end, it was neatly broken - to leave a gap.

h.e.l.lo' said two dull voices behind them.

They turned to be greeted by two severe-looking humans, immaculately dressed, the man in a grey pinstripe suit and bowler hat, the woman in a tight grey sweater and skirt. Both wore horn-rimmed gla.s.ses and the man carried a newspaper and an umbrella.

They were the epitome of dullness. Greyness.

I'm George. This is my wife, Margaret. We've been sent to tell you to go on through. The man spoke in a flat monotone - as if the appearance of the Doctor and Millennia was the single most boring event ever to have happened. Delighted to finally meet you.' he added, sounding as if he meant anything but that.

Don't keep him waiting,' said Margaret. He hates being kept waiting.'

Through there?' Millennia asked, her rational mind beginning to function again. She pointed at the gap in the wall.

That's right, thought the Doctor. Good girl - treat this as a problem to be solved, not a situation to panic about.

But George and Margaret were gone, like phantoms. It was as if they had never been there.

The two Gallifreyans had started to move towards the gap when something made them stop - a sound. A growling, marling, roaring sort of sound. It was alien but, the Doctor thought, somehow not quite right. As if something was trying too hard to be noisy and frightening.

Through the gap came a scaly, reptilian creature on four stumpy legs. Flame red all over, it had a big wide mouth, a scaly mane, and huge rolling eyes. A wisp of smoke curled out through one nostril.

What is it?'

The Doctor stared hard. A reptile of some sort. Look at that tail...' Something at the back of his mind clicked. It's a dragon. A red dragon.'

The dragon pawed at the ground - but stayed where it was.

It was as if something was stopping it getting into the square arena where the Doctor and Millennia were standing.

Or it was there to stop them getting out.

Swallowing hard, Millennia opted to ignore the dragon and instead walked over to the wall of blocks. Each block was slightly wider than she was tall and they were lying flat, two high. She could not quite reach the top.

Doctor, they're made of something hard but not artificial.' The Doctor was beside her in an instant, mumbling to himself.

We're here for a reason ... we can't get out despite the gap because someone wants us to stay here.'

The dragon?'

Oh no, no. I shouldn't think he can think for himself.' The Doctor tapped the tiles. Bone,' he said after a moment. Ivory to be precise.'

Doctor, look!'

One of the tiles near the dragon lifted and then came down in the centre of the arena. A second later another followed, then another. Something was dismantling the wall and dropping the blocks near the Doctor and Millennia.

The Doctor ran to the nearest one and peered over the top of it.

It has markings on, Millennia. See there? And there?'

Millennia was looking at another block. This one is covered in roundels.'

The Doctor was tracing the scratchy outline of the markings on his. They made no sense. He crossed to another, which showed four green lines and the number 4 in the corner.

How many roundels?' he called suddenly.

Err... five.'

Is there a number 5 in the top left corner?'

Yes. Yes there is!' Millennia called back. Is it important?'

The Doctor crouched atop the block with the four lines on it.

Millennia, where were we headed?'

She shrugged. The realm of one of the Great Old Ones.'

The Toymakers! Yes, yes, that's where we were going, my dear. And, if I'm not much mistaken, these are tiles in a giant game of some sort.'

It is called mah-jong,' said the dragon from the rapidly diminis.h.i.+ng corner, ducking slightly as another tile was picked up and discarded.

Both Gallifreyans stared at it in surprise. The Doctor recovered first - what had his old mentor in the mountain always said about never judging by appearances?

Good day, sir. My name is -'

The Doctor. And your friend is Millennia. Yes, Rallon told me all about you.'

And the world went bizarre again.

The dragon blurred and re-formed as a man.

The walls around them shrunk until everything was reversed and the three figures were standing on either side of a lacquered black table. The game tiles on its surface were now just that.

The man wore a long silken robe, beautifully coloured and decorated with dragons and other strange but beautiful designs. On his head was a round hat, similarly patterned, while his feet were encased in red velvet, pointed slippers.

The only thing wrong was that his head lacked any features - it was just a glowing ball of energy.

He spread out his arms, long silken sleeves drooping. It was a gesture of welcome.

I'm sorry it took so long to get the dimensions adjusted to suit you,' he said, not unkindly. His voice was that of a mature man: rich, deep and well spoken - really rather charming. Visitors to my realm are few and far between and when I scanned your craft the interior dimensions were at odds with the exterior, which suggested a technology and advancement that your actually choosing to come here belied.'

The Doctor put his hands behind his back. Oh really? So you are saying we made a mistake coming here?'

For you or for me?' asked the man.

Millennia spoke up. Where's Rallon? What have you done with him?'

I am here, my child. This body is being sustained by him.

Me. Whatever. Here, let me explain.'

And the man's head morphed into Rallon's, although when he spoke, it was still in the smooth sophisticated tones of the original. I needed a body - sadly my original one did not...

suit this Universe. Your friend's is the first I have come across that isn't enfeebled and p.r.o.ne to wearing out every seventy years. Mortality is such a burden, I find. This one could last a good thousand years I should imagine.'

Rallon?' Millennia whispered. Rallon, are you still alive?' The figure with Rallon's face shook his head. Oh no, not really. I think there is a tiny spark of him somewhere inside me, acting as a cohesion to keep this frame together. Would you prefer it if I a.s.sumed a different visage for now? This one does rather seem to upset you.'

The face morphed again, this time into one far better suited to the voice it possessed.

Lined, but seemingly through years of smiling rather than age, it was not unpleasant. It reminded the Doctor of one of the lecturers back at the Prydon Academy - it had that same worn look, yet it was a face that spoke tomes about its wisdom, its experience.

And spoke nothing of its intent.

The Doctor decided not to dwell on Rallon for now - if he was truly lost to them, it was something he would have to deal with later, a matter for his conscience. Right now, he needed to return himself and Millennia to their stolen TARDIS where they would be safe again.

Pragmatic as always, Doctor,' said the man, who had clearly been reading his thoughts. But sadly, not an opportunity available to you.'

He held out his hand - in the palm was the TARDIS, shrunk to a couple of inches high. He closed his fist around it and shook it. When he opened his hand again, the TARDIS had been replaced by a pair of dice.