The Road to ... a New Beginning (Chapter 3, Part 1)
In the aftermath of their new understanding, the Master and the Doctor spent a great many hours just lying together. The time they’ve spent together recently has been rushed and frantic, full of anger or frustration, or under the cover of ‘business.’
Now they have reached an agreement, even if it is only a temporary one, they have time to rediscover each other properly. So many centuries of passed since they could spend such leisurely time together. And so much has happened to them both. In a way it’s as if they are exploring each other for the first time, but at the same time, the movements are comfortable and familiar, and they bring back long-lost memories.
The Doctor is finding any excuse to touch the Master, to run his hands over his skin, and the Master is teasing him.
“Oh, you just can’t get enough, can you?”
The Doctor laughs and shakes his head. “I’m just trying to understand … can’t help you unless I know what’s going on inside your mind.”
“Really?” The Master grins lazily. “All business, are you? I’ll have to see what I can do about that …”
***
Eventually, they leave their bed and the Doctor begins to put the next stage of his plan in motion. The Master stands and watches him as he pilots the TARDIS. The contrast in their bodies is stark; the Doctor dashes round the console, switching and adjusting and checking, pressing buttons and levers with his hands and even his feet, going round and round until the Master’s sure he must be dizzy.
In contrast, the Master stands stock still, his arms folded, one hand supporting his chin. Watching. And smiling.
Eventually the Doctor heads towards the door and unlocks it. He looks towards the Master and cocks his head slightly, letting him know it’s time to go. The Master walks towards him and holds out the wrist with the link cuff.
The Doctor swallows hard and shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “Not any more. I trust you.”
The Master grins, wickedly, and raises his eyebrows. But he holds his wrist higher. “Do it.”
The Doctor’s expression shifts to confusion. “No …”
“I’m telling you to activate the damn link,” the Master growls. “Now, do it.”
Completely flummoxed, the Doctor finds the sonic screwdriver and reattaches their links.
The Master takes a step backwards and tugs hard, with his arm. The Doctor feels the link device tighten around his wrist.
The Master nods in satisfaction. “Good.”
Then, at last, the Doctor understands. The Master doesn’t really mind this link, any more than the Doctor does, but he wants to feel in control.
The Doctor really doesn’t mind. Smiling, he leads the way from the TARDIS, and locks the door behind him.
***
Outside, the light is dazzling. It fills up everything, limiting the effectiveness of sight. But the sounds are just as overwhelming. Chaos fills the air.
“Where are we?” the Master asks, looking around, struggling to take everything in, in the harsh light.
“Earth, of course.”
The Master rolls his eyes. “Right. Of course. Earth. Don’t you ever get tired of this place? Don’t you ever think I might get tired of it?”
“No. But this is not just any old time in the Earth’s history. This is a momentous occasion. Not just for Earth, but for the whole universe.”
“Go on, then,” the Master groans. “What year is it?”
“Four billion, six hundred and forty-five million, two hundred and eleven thousand, nine hundred and thirty-one.”
“Right. And what happens then?”
“This is the evacuation of Earth.”
***
They make their way to a quieter spot, in a disused archway between two derelict buildings, and the Doctor tells the Master how the Sun has expanded so much that the Earth will not be safe for human habitation much longer.
“It’s okay, though, because they’ve got colonies across the galaxies by now. Between them, they can take all the refugees from the home planet.”
“Oh, good!” the Master says, in mock relief. “Thank heavens for that!”
It’s the Doctor’s turn to roll his eyes, as he continues. “The ships started leaving almost three hundred years ago. It’s left a very strange world. See, the only people left are the very rich - who wouldn’t leave because of pride - and the very poor, who couldn’t afford to go until they were ordered to. In some ways it’s been like a return to the Dark Ages.”
As if to punctuate his comment, the sound of frantic, childish screaming pierces the air. They both look around quickly, and the Doctor realises the sound is coming from the cellar of the next building. Instantly, he dashes away, scrambling down the steps, out of the light. The Master is immediately behind.
In the dim, dirty room, children are screaming. Not playing at screaming - this is genuine. They are terrified, hysterical. The Doctor makes out two small boys, a baby … and a woman. She’s young, not much more than twenty, and she’s very thin. And she has her hands around the baby’s throat. The boys are screaming at her to stop. Begging their mother to stop killing their brother.
The Doctor rushes forward and rips the baby from her grasp. The pathetically thin woman puts up a surprisingly strong fight.
“It’s all right. It’s all right, now.” He holds the baby tight and tries hurriedly to calm the small boys. The woman has collapsed in a heap, and she is sobbing.
A choking baby, two hysterical toddlers and a distraught mother is one more emotional crisis than the Doctor can handle. He shoots a helpless, imploring look at the Master.
The Master returns his look in pure horror. But it eventually turns to amusement, and then to resignation. He bends down and looks at the two boys with his best “trust in me” expression.
“Come on, kids. Come over here. Everything’s all right now.” His voice is soft, not dissimilar to the hypnotic one that helped get him elected Prime Minister. The children look at him and seem to calm a little, but still seem reluctant to leave their mother’s side.
The two Time Lords exchange looks. The Master looks questioningly at the Doctor, having no idea how to calm and distract hysterical children. The Doctor gives him an encouraging, “keep going” look. The Master rolls his eyes.
“Come on, come over here. I’ll tell you a children’s story from long, long ago. It’s about four happy creatures with televisual data screens in their stomachs.”
Grinning slightly, the older boy moves towards the Master, reaching for his hand. The younger follows his brother. The Master can’t leave the room, can’t go more than four feet away from the Doctor. But he sits with the children, as far away from the Doctor and the boys’ mother and the link device will allow, and distracts the children with stories. Like the Doctor, he’s very good at talking.
Meanwhile, the Doctor checks the baby is breathing and then turns his attention to the young woman. “What on Earth were you doing that for?”
She doesn’t answer, just sobs and shakes in return.
Trying a new tactic, the Doctor asks, “What’s your name?”
She takes a deep breath, tries to compose herself, and then answers croakily, “Ashra.”
The Doctor kneels down beside her, still holding the baby.
“Ashra, is this your son?”
She nods, still weeping. “Yes. They all are.”
“So why were you trying to kill them?”
Her voice is so shaky he can hardly understand her. “I was just trying … to spare them. I didn’t want them to suffer.”
“Why would they suffer?”
Ashra gives him a very unpleasant look, taking in his crisp brown suit and warm coat. “Your lot … they’re going to abandon us.”
“I don’t have a “lot.” Honest. I’m not from around here. My lot’s just me - well, me … and him.” He gestures over his shoulder at the Master. “Tell me what’s happening.”
She takes a deep breath and finally seems to calm, just a little. “We were supposed to leave, on one of the last ships. Us, and all the others …”
“What others?”
“The ones who aren’t Citizens. The last remaining Citizens have been ordered to take us with them when they leave. The Global Council left two years ago, and they left enough power to fuel the last few private ships, for the Citizens, on condition they took us as passengers.”
“So why are you here? What’s the problem?”
“They haven’t got enough power. The sun … the radiation’s done something to it, and they’re running out. They’re going to leave us behind …” Her voice trails off into hysteria again.
“So you were going to end their lives?” His voice is more gentle now, understanding her terrible situation.
“Don’t you see?” She starts to weep again. “Once the last ships leave, their lives are over! They’ll be murdered by the others … we’re all on our own - they haven’t even got a father to protect them. And even if they don’t, they’ll either starve to death or the radiation’ll get them! I can’t let that happen. I can’t … I can’t …”
“Now, stop. Listen to me. I … I mean, we … we’re not going to let that happen. We’re not going to let you get stuck here. Do you understand me?”
“No! What can you do?”
“Wait and see. Just stay here - and look after them - until we get back.” He jumps up and turns to the Master, who stands as well. They start to head back up the stairs, the Master going first, and at the last minute he turns back to the sobbing woman.
“Ashra? Trust me. We’ll be back soon.”
***
The Doctor and the Master are striding down the street, side by side. “Did you catch any of that?”
“Most of it. The rich ones are going to go, and leave the poor to butcher each other, starve, or burn. Isn’t the human race wonderful?”
The Doctor chooses to ignore that. “But we’re not going to let that happen.”
“And how exactly are we going to do that? Pack the nice little family into your TARDIS and drop them off on a nice little colony?”
The Doctor stops and looks at the Master, apparently impressed. “We could do that, I suppose. Yes, we could. But that would only help one family. All the others will be left.”
“So, we have to find out what’s wrong with the ships, wrong with the power, and fix it, so they can all set off happily together?”
The Doctor raises his eyebrows, impressed again. “Yeah. That’s about right.” He starts to walk away again, but the Master puts a hand on his arm, holding him back.
“What?”
“Oh, you’re so naïve. So sweet. What makes you think there’s anything wrong with the power? Isn’t it just as likely that the rich and powerful have decided they don’t want the lower classes living alongside them in their new homes?”
The Doctor wants to shake his head, wants to laugh at the very idea. But the more logical part of his brain knows the Master has raised a very good point.
“Well, let’s go and find out.” Together, they stride away down the street, towards a great glass tower rising into the sky. Shuttles are humming around it, landing and taking off from the top, bringing the last humans from all over the Earth to this central point, ready for the final departure.
***
The chaos increases as they reach the tower. Swarming around the base are hundreds of people. These are the rich ones, the important people, who would not leave their home planet until the last possible moment. The colonies are remote outposts in their minds; places where the human race are merely tenants, rather than the rightful owners. They are inflated with the sense of their own importance, and, knowing what awaits, the Doctor looks at them in pity.
The Master looks at them in mild disgust.
The Doctor flashes the psychic paper at the security guard on the door, and enters the lift with the Master at his side. In one smooth movement, he reaches inside the Doctor’s jacket and retrieves the wallet holding the paper. “So who exactly are we supposed to be?” He examines it with interest. “Dr. John Smith, chief genetic engineer with the …” He pauses. “ … the previous year’s evacuation program.” He grins sideways at the Doctor. “Got left behind, did you?”
The Doctor grins back.
The Master looks back at the paper. “And I am …”
“ - never mind!” The Doctor shouts suddenly, trying to grab the wallet out of the Master’s hands. But the Master is every bit as quick as he is, and turns away, holding it out of reach.
“ … your partner?”
Finally, using his height advantage, the Doctor grabs the wallet back from the Master and stuffs it back into his pocket. “Don’t look like that. Scientific partner, I meant. Research partner.”
The Master raises an eyebrow. “I just bet you did.”
The Doctor busies himself with putting away the paper, and straightening out his jacket.
“Your mind was … elsewhere when you handed that over, wasn’t it? And … aww,” He tilts his head in mock fondness. “You’re blushing again.” He moves closer to the Doctor, close enough to feel the heat from his body. “Tell me, does anyone else make you blush like that?”
“Stop it.” He fidgets slightly as the Master’s hands brush against his legs, but he doesn’t push them away. “Stop it … not here …”
The Master doesn’t take the message. He moves even closer and his hands reach higher. “What’s wrong with here? Isn’t doing it in a lift supposed to be … sexy? Dangerous?”
Continuing to squirm, the Doctor gasps, “I think you’re danger enough.”
“And tell me, if I were to start something now … would you stop me? Would you try?” His hands are constantly moving, knowing exactly where to touch, how firmly and how gently. He is whispering directly into the Doctor’s ear, his soft breath warming his skin, and …
DING!
The bell of the lift cuts sharply into the private little world they have created for themselves. The Doctor jumps a foot and struggles to get his hearts back under control. The Master merely stands back, drops his hands to his sides, and smiles, apparently relaxed.
“Good afternoon!” The well-dressed woman outside the lift bids them politely.
“G … goo … good …” Slightly unbelievably, the Doctor is stammering; he, one of the best talkers in the universe. He can still feel the imprints on his body where the Master’s hands recently were, and the skin behind his ear is still warm.
“Good afternoon,” the Master says brightly. “Do excuse my partner. It’s been a very long day.” Imperceptibly, he turns and winks at the Doctor, who groans inwardly, and follows the Master out of the lift.