Doctor Who_ Divided Loyalties Part 19

Millennia sat huddled in the snow, trying to find warmth in one of the nooks and crannies that dotted the walls of the Capitol.

Doctor? Rallon?' She had been calling for what seemed to be hours now. But no one had come to her rescue. George and Margaret had brought her here, through the double doors from the toyshop. But as soon as she had felt the biting wind, seen the snow, they had simply faded away again.

So she had walked for hours through the snow, but although the place she was in looked like the Capitol, it wasn't. The walls were plastic, not rock. The snow was synthetic rather than frozen water.

It was, however, freezing cold. She tugged her Prydonian robes around her, throwing off the skullcap so that she could hide her face under the flowing garments and letting her naturally long hair hang down freely. She began sucking a strand of it. A comfort move, from her childhood.

She had not seen another living soul. This was one of the Toymaker's traps, of that she was sure.

So she sat and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And...

The Doctor was trying to run as fast as he could. He had already thrown away his heavy university robes, and was dressed in just a white collarless s.h.i.+rt and a pair of breeches and boots. All were caked in thick mud. He had managed to get two blue flags back to his cannon, but Bimm had three of his burgundy ones by the copse of trees.

He was exhausted - the Prydon Academy trained you for the mind, not for the body. Certainly, there were physical exercises to stay reasonably fit - but few involved countless journeys around muddy fields, climbing ropes, running through canvas tunnels to evade capture, protecting flags and trying to steal more, all at once. Worse still, the muddy field was slowing him down - each step was becoming more akin to traipsing through quicksand.

On the other side, the toy robot stood impa.s.sively, its chest monitor recording, with a series of coloured blobs, who had which pennants in their base.

The Doctor watched as Bimm gained a fourth pennant.

Only one more and the game was his. Even one on one, as the Doctor had wanted, the soldier/toy was more competent.

This was not good enough. If losing this game was all that life on Gallifrey taught him, then a new syllabus was needed. He would have to use his brain. The distance between pennants and bases was reasonably similar. And it couldn't just come down to endurance - Bimm was obviously the victor there. He was trained for this.

Therefore, the Doctor was left with a third option - to take Ben Bimm out of the game completely.

He looked down at the ground - his boots were sinking into the mud - run over once too often, it was getting very boggy indeed. And Bimm was wearing big, black boots that were probably heavier than his own.

The Doctor turned his attention to a tree nearby. Ropes were hanging from it and he quickly undid two of them. He hurried back to his cannon, tied the end of one rope around the wheels and tugged the other end towards the canvas tunnel.

No! It wasn't long enough. He quickly tied the second rope to the first and the other end to the tunnel. Now he had a crude tripwire which, to be honest, only a blind man in the dark could miss.

Which was exactly what the Doctor wanted. He staggered back through the mud to the tree and hoisted himself into the branches, selecting the lowest, longest one that would support his weight.

To get the Doctor's pennants, Bimm normally ran directly from the cannon to the tunnel - now he'd have to go around, suspecting a trap.

Which it was.

Sure enough, Bimm came running with the last burgundy pennant, saw the rope and stopped. He scratched his chin - yes, the two ends were taut but apart from tripping him, what purpose did it serve?

Shrugging, he decided to be cautious. He circled around the rope - and promptly stood exactly where the Doctor wanted him: in the muddy area. The Doctor gripped his branch tighter. He needed Bimm to get a tad closer.

Bimm was heaving himself through the mud - which was climbing over the top of his boots and seeping through the face-holes. Each step took more effort.

And he realised what was happening. He might have walked into the trap, but at least he understood that it was one!

Angrily, he tried to pull his feet out of the mud, but it was difficult - and the Doctor had to act now. With a yell to throw Bimm off guard, the Doctor dropped from the branch, right on to his back, pus.h.i.+ng them both face down on the muddy ground.

The Doctor rolled aside immediately, scrabbling away from the clawing mud, grabbed his pennant from Bimm's hands and broke it over his knee. Then, ignoring his own base, he ran to Bimm's camp and grabbed the other burgundy pennants, snapping them one after the other and hurling the bits in different directions.

Mature it might not be, he thought. But it was satisfying.

He looked back. Bimm had heaved himself up, but his feet were firmly stuck in the mud now and the more he roared with anger and twisted and turned, the more stuck he became, as first one boot then the other sank completely. The Doctor ignored Bimm's plight and dashed, breathless and out of condition, his hearts pounding, to where the last of Bimm's blue pennants lay. He grabbed it and ran back to his camp.

Victory!' he yelled.

You cheated,' said the Toymaker, suddenly floating in the air above the trees.

No I didn't. I laid a trap.'

You broke his flags. Unfair.'

The Doctor dropped to his knees, completely exhausted. I still won,' he gasped. I did what you wanted and I won.'

Cheating, Doctor? Is that all you will be good for in life?'

And the Doctor found himself back in the toyshop, dripping mud and bits of gra.s.s everywhere.

As one, every doll, teddy bear and other toy in the room turned their heads to look at him.

He could feel the malevolence radiating from them and took a step back.

He felt his heel press on something and looked down. The broken clockwork soldier that had once been Captain Bamm was there. He bent down and scooped the bits up, trying to refasten the head, but the tin neck was badly twisted.

The door opened and, again as one, the toys looked around as the Toymaker made his appearance. The huge toy robot clanked after him, its hydraulic limbs hissing with each move. Behind it limped the bedraggled Captain Bimm.

Master, I am sorry...

The Toymaker shrugged. Winners and losers, Captain. I told you that at Ypres. You lost, the Doctor won. Square, if not entirely fair.'

The robot rested a metal fist on Bimm's neck and wrenched it. The Doctor winced, but the robot was now holding just a broken tin head in his palm, and on the floor lay the tiny broken body of the Bimm toy.

You are evil,' the Doctor hissed. Are they dead?'

They are toys, Doctor -'

The Toymaker lurched suddenly, grasping at a shelf and knocking sail boats and a couple of jigsaws to the floor.

And the snowstorm he was holding hurtled towards destruction - until the robot neatly caught it.

The Toymaker gasped loudly and for a fleeting moment the face changed - it had Rallon's dark complexion and it was staring wildly.

Doctor,' cried Rallon, save me... get me out of here... I can't ... I can't...'

The Toymaker threw his head back with a growl, shaking his head into an indistinct blur. Both faces struggled for dominance until finally the more familiar features that the Doctor recognised as the celestial being took a firm hold again.

Fascinating,' the Toymaker murmured. He fights me from within.'

The Doctor realised the being was thinking aloud, and that neither he nor the toys mattered at that moment. It's going to take longer than I antic.i.p.ated to appreciate corporeal existence.'

And he vanished.

Rallon? Rallon!!' The Doctor rushed to the doors of the toyshop, flung them open and raced through into...

s.p.a.ce He stood there, aghast. He was simply floating, thousands of galaxies surrounding him. It was as if the whole universe had been captured within one small area and he could see everything.

Everything in creation.

Everything that const.i.tuted the Toymaker's playground.

Behind him, the doors to the toyshop were open, suspended in the middle of nothing.

Covering his eyes to keep out the mind-blowing enormity of the universe, the Doctor stumbled back into the shop, and collapsed to the floor.

I have rea.s.serted control, Doctor,' said the stentorian voice of the Toymaker.

He stood in front of the Doctor, smiling, his eyes burning with... life.

Rallon's life-force. Consumed completely by this... animal, this twisted, monstrous, primeval force for negativity that...

that...

The Doctor's anger boiled over and he hurled himself at the Toymaker - but he went straight through him, cras.h.i.+ng into the toys ranged on the floor, trying to blot out the echoing laughter of his nemesis.

Aggression, Doctor? I like you. I like this battle of wills between us. We will play again, one day, when you are better equipped to deal with me. When you are a Time Lord rather than a mere Gallifreyan student. Oh yes, Doctor, everything Rallon knows... knew... is part of me now. I thank you for bringing me my form, my shape. For aeons I have jumped from body to body, disposing of each one as it wore out, never keeping the same face for more than a century. But now, with the potential energy of Rallon to play with, to manipulate and expand upon, I can keep this form for an eternity. Or at least until this universe dies and I move on to the next.'

The Doctor was surrounded by toys, but he didn't care. He kicked and punched and lashed out, sending them sprawling, ignoring those that simply got up and resumed their observation of him.

Hundreds of dead eyes gazing at him, staring inside him, knowing his guilt, feeling his anger.

Laughing at his fear.

Give me back Rallon and Millennia and we'll leave for ever.

We'll never, ever come back.'

Rallon is mine, Doctor, he cannot be given back. He no longer exists. His unique energy has given me my new life.

And Millennia? She stays too. I can always use a new doll around the place.'

The Doctor looked at the toys he had kicked, among them the broken bodies of Captains Bimm and Bamm.

Oh yes, Doctor. They too were sentient once. Those I collected, those that ventured here. Some even volunteered.'

He indicated George and Margaret, now back at their familiar door duty. They all played my games, tried to defeat me, to escape. They all lost. As a result, they stay here. My playthings, Doctor. My friends.' He smiled. Coldly. But you, Doctor, you I don't want here now. Inside you burns something so pa.s.sionate, something so completely different to Rallon, to Millennia, that I need to watch you, need to see you get out among the stars and live.'

The Doctor seemed to relax, but it was a feint. He suddenly scrambled up, s.n.a.t.c.hed the snowstorm from the robot's metallic fist and threw himself at the mah-jong set on the lacquered table.

If he had calculated correctly...

He landed with a thud on the ground. White ground. Around him, the mah-jong tiles towered upwards.

The Doctor scrabbled over them and made for the yellow path.

Still clutching the snowstorm, he ran and ran along it, glancing once over his shoulder to see the tiles thrown upwards in a maelstrom of destruction - but not fast enough to overtake him.

The TARDIS!

He could see its white dome in its natural state on the horizon.

He realised he was crying. Fear? Panic? Or just the loss of his friend Rallon?

His fault. Rallon was dead and it was his fault.

And what of Millennia? Maybe, if he could escape the Toymaker's realm, get away from this bizarre dimension where nothing was logical, she would revert to normal.