I wrote a fic. I have no idea where to put it, so I put it here.
Title: The Doctor's Guide to a Successful Rebellion or The Master's Guide to Ending Poisonous Relationships
Rating: PG-13 for an F bomb, and some dirty jokes.
Fandom: Blake's 7 and Doctor Who
Summary: The Master needs the Doctor's help. The Doctor saves yet another universe. Business as usual.
Notes: Thanks to janice_lester and linda_joyce for looking over this. This fic just came out. I dunno where it came from, but there you are.
“You’ve got to help me,” The Master said, his face taking up the entirety of a view screen in the TARDIS that the Doctor hadn’t even known existed until three seconds previously.
“You’re dead,” the Doctor said. It was just his luck that something like this would happen to him. One minute it was a flying bus, the next minute it was the Master…
“Obviously I’m not dead,” the Master said, “but you’ve really got to help me.”
“Is this a trap?” the Doctor asked, spinning about in a state of obvious confusion. “Am I being punked? Is the Ashton Kutcher android about to come in here and laugh at me?”
“No! Now pay attention to me, damn it,” the Master said. “As you can see, I am not dead. And I thought that I would inform you of my un-death by surprising you. What better surprise is there for someone than to try to take over the world? So, I managed to install a corrupt, totalitarian government and I was about to swan in and of course do the whole, use Earth as a staging ground for intergalactic and then spatial-temporal conquest, that whole thing, when I got a bit greedy.”
“Have I gone mad?” the Doctor asked, sonicing himself with the sonic screwdriver in an attempt to diagnose his heretofore unknown insanity.
“I met this woman. And I knew you would hate her, and she was really something, so of course I got a bit greedy. Oh, she was lovely. Oh, she was amoral. Oh, she was completely fucking insane. But it all went pear-shaped. She took my TARDIS-“
“YOU HAVE A TARDIS?” the Doctor shrieked, molesting his hair with his hands in a very strenuous fashion. “What? What?”
“And now she’s got me locked up in a basement, and she’s the president, and oh, God, the things she does to me, Doctor! I mean, you know how it is. Love at first sight, and then the next thing you know there are papercuts on your cock-“
“WHAT?!” the Doctor shouted to the unjust universe, his face, by now, a newly invented shade of purple.
“And you really need to help me. I’m calling in a favour. I’m sure there’s one time I didn’t kill you. OH! Yes, quite recently. Back when you were a shriveled up old-man puppet, I didn’t kill you! So, obviously, you owe me a favour.”
The Doctor stared at him, his face a mixture of horror and confusion, for several minutes. Finally, gathering what was left of his wits, the Doctor said, “Serves you right.”
“What? You can’t do this to me! You’re full of kindness and joy. It’s your duty as an annoyingly moral swot to save me!”
“I’m done. Through. Serves you bloody right,” the Doctor said, searching for a way to turn his new view screen off.
“But it’s a totalitarian government! People are suffering!”
“That’s your problem. Besides, it’s not like the galaxy is incapable of saving itself sometimes. It’ll all balance out,” the Doctor said, in a way that clearly indicated that he was on the verge of a mental breakdown at the unreality of this whole situation, and that he needed a serious drink.
“But that’s just it! The rebels! They’re useless! They’re a bunch of clueless criminals with a stolen alien spaceship and a box that talks!”
“Oh dear,” the Doctor said. That didn’t sound promising at all.
“Eh? Eh?” the Master coaxed, raising his eyebrows and grinning maniacally. “I know you love this sort of rubbish!”
“Alright, alright,” the Doctor said reluctantly.
“Great! Now the woman who’s holding me captive is called Servalan. But the bloke you’ll be looking for is named Blake…”
***
Nobody had believed Vila when he said that a blue box had suddenly appeared on the flight deck of the Liberator during his watch. Indeed, he’d gotten several snorts of disgust when he’d run out to tell the rest of the crew, and Cally had even tried to sedate him.
It was with great triumph that he showed the rest of the crew the strange blue box. He grinned with self-satisfaction, but resisted the urge to shout, “I told you so,” at an exceedingly loud volume.
Blake nibbled a finger as he looked at the big blue box.
“Well, what does Orac have to say about this?” he finally asked.
“Orac says that the anomaly appeared in the midst of some sort of spatio-temporal rift,” Avon replied.
Vila thought that this was an unnecessarily fancy way of saying, “Appeared out of fucking nowhere.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Cally asked, pointing one of the Liberator’s guns at it just to be sure.
“What do you think it is?” Jenna asked.
“Could it be booby-trapped?” Gan asked.
None of these questions were answered, because just at that moment, the door of the big blue box opened up, and out popped a man.
“Hello, I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor said, sticking his hand out for a nice friendly shake. “And you must be Blake.”
Blake wiped the excess spittle from his well-chewed fingers, and shook the Doctor’s hand.
“Now, I’m afraid I don’t know everyone else, so let’s go around the room and tell each other our names, our hobbies, and our favourite colour,” the Doctor said grinning broadly. “You can start.”
“Erm,” Vila began, staring at the Doctor’s finger pointing at him. “My name’s Vila Restal, I like stealing, and my favourite colour is yel-“
“Vila!” Avon hissed.
“Oi! Wait your turn,” the Doctor said, but then he grinned. “Alright, I guess you can go since you’re so eager.”
If looks could kill, the Doctor would no longer be in this body.
“Er, or not,” the Doctor said. “Let’s move on-“
“Sorry,” Blake said, holding up a hand, “but why are you here?”
“Oh. OH! Right. Well, I’m going to help you take down the Federation and restore democracy, freedom , and dignity to the people.”
“Oh,” Blake said, disappointed that he couldn’t think of anything more terribly stirring than that to say.
“But why?”
“As a sort of favour to a friend of mine. He’s found himself in a bit of a bad spot with your new President, and he’s just not sure how to break it off.”
“Your friend is Het Restram?” Avon asked, smirking.
In the din that followed, the Doctor learned that Het Restram was, in no uncertain terms, a traitor, a man-whore, an amoral sexual deviant, a complete lunatic, a shit-gobbling delusional twat, a complete train-wreck, an evil genius, a diabolical mastermind, a sex slave, and apparently, a bit of a fox.
The Doctor wasn’t impressed with their leadership abilities, but he had to hand it to them; their vocabulary was first-rate.
“Right, yeah. That’s about the sum of it.” The Doctor nodded.
“And he is your friend?” Cally asked, training her gun away from the box, and towards the Doctor. “And we should trust you?”
“Well, uh,” the Doctor started, then got distracted. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be slightly telepathic would you?”
Yes, Cally replied in the Doctor’s mind. However, her mental tone was rather stern, and her gun was still pointed at him.
“Yes, well, anyway,” the Doctor said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not exactly friends with him. Look, it’s complicated.”
“And you’re going to stop Servalan?” Avon asked, his voice dripping with doubt as he exercised his duties as the Liberator’s chief cynicism officer.
“I do this sort of thing all the time. Shouldn’t be too hard. I can take her down in five words. No, four. No, no. Three. Definitely three.”
***
Somewhere across the universe, the Master, alias Het Restram, sat pleasantly next to President Servalan at a state dinner, in front of hundreds of holo-cameras. As Servalan rattled off a rather complicated order for the courses that were to be prepared, he smiled and waved enthusiastically.
“And for desert, the tiramisu. Oh, I’ve forgotten to order the drinks. I’ll have the white wine, and he’ll have-“
The Master cut in, unexpectedly, leaned over Servalan, smiled at all the cameras, and said the three words he’d been instructed to say, “I’d like tea.”
***
“Anyway, all that should be taken care of by now. All that’s left is for you lot to storm in, fight the good fight, and lead Earth into a new era of peace, prosperity, and general freedom.”
“Really?” Gan asked.
“No, not really, you idiot,” Avon shot back. “This is some kind of trick.”
“Ask your computers if you don’t believe me,” the Doctor replied, skipping past the group of them to see how comfortable their flight couches were in comparison with his.
Avon glared at the Doctor, but took Orac’s key out of his pocket, strode over to the machine, and put it in.
“Orac, what is the state of Servalan’s presidency at this moment?”
“That question is not sufficiently specific. However, I will endeavor to inform you that at this moment, Servalan’s presidency is exceedingly tenuous. Following her inability to curtail her lover at a state event, the entire Federation government’s efficacy is being questioned. This, coupled with the previous success of the terrorist known as Roj Blake, has led to wide-scale revolts. Popular fervor has caused groups of citizens to take over the food and water supplies to ensure that they are free of suppressants. The domes have been opened by force, the restrictions on interplanetary and planetary travel have been forcibly lifted and-“
But no one really heard the rest, because the Doctor, who wasn’t nearly as nice as Vila, had smugly said,
“I told you so,” and Blake had broken into what could only be termed an, “I did it!” dance.
***
In the snack room of the Liberator, as the erstwhile freedom fighters ate snacks, three different groups were plotting.
“I suppose the first important thing is to initiate democratic elections,” Blake said thoughtfully, watching the Doctor who was inexplicably dipping chips into marmalade.
“Oh, yes,” the Doctor agreed. “’Course you’ll also want to make sure the new leader isn’t a lunatic. That’s pretty important too, in my experience. “
“But now everyone can be free. No more suppressants. And they’re opening up the domes! I think fresh air will do most people a world of good.”
“Yes, I’m pathologically inclined to dislike stifling undemocratic dome-based societies,” the Doctor said.
Across the room, in a dark corner, Avon was picking Vila’s head.
“So, do you think you could break into the Doctor’s teleporting box?”
“’Course I could!” Vila said, smacking his lips as he popped another cashew into his mouth. “I can get into anything, me. But I don’t work for free.”
“You don’t work at all, usually,” Avon huffed. “Look, assuming Blake’s a man of his word, I get the Liberator. Which means I get the treasure room. How would you like half of that treasure?”
“Of course you’d probably need someone to pilot the Liberator,” Jenna said, sitting down between Vila and Avon with a devious grin on her face.
Avon sighed in an eternally put-upon manner, “Right, we each will get one-third of the treasure room. But I get to keep the teleporting box. Deal?”
“Deal,” Vila and Jenna said in unison.
Meanwhile, Cally and Gan sat in the middle of the room, eating sticks of broccoli, and judging everyone.
***
In short order, it became all obvious that, so to speak, it was all over except for the crying. And so, it was decided, after some encouragement from the Doctor, that they were all going to go to Earth, go down-planet, find Servalan, and fix all that was wrong in the universe
Servalan, having holed herself up in her presidential mansion, and figuring that some splinter group or another would be out to get her shortly, decided that it was time to make good her escape.
“Right, while I’ve managed to figure out how to use it for evil, I haven’t a clue how to use your TARDIS for travel purposes, and I think that it’s time we go,” said Servalan to the Master, as she lounged on an ottoman while a rather vicious sounding gun battle went on outside.
“Er, I’m not going,” the Master said. “And also, I don’t love you. Never did. And also, we’re breaking up. You’re a bit too mad for my tastes.”
“Oh,” Servalan said, rather amused. “Did you think I loved you?”
“Yes?” the Master said, but it was more a question than anything. He was, however, pretty fantastic, and had every reason to believe that most people loved him.
“Well, you are thick. Anyway, it’s a bit of a shame, but I suppose I have to kill you,” Servalan said, drawing her hold-out laser from an improbable pocket.
“Ah, see I knew you’d do that, so I replaced the battery pack with a dud,” the Master said cheerfully.
“But I knew you’d do that, which is why I replaced the batteries before I thought about killing you,” Servalan replied icily.
“But I knew you’d do THAT, which is why I sabotaged the gun.”
“You’re probably bluffing,” Servalan said, and shot him, before walking out of the room, and seeing if she could figure out the TARDIS on her own.
The Master tried to regenerate as quietly as possible so as not to attract attention.
***
Meanwhile, having teleported down to Earth, and having run ahead in an attempt to be cool and get there before everybody, Avon tripped over thin air, skidded partway down a corridor, took a bit of skin off his palm, and managed to squeak in an undignified manner while doing it.
Looking around quickly to make sure no one had witnessed any of this, he discovered, much to his horror, that not only had someone witnessed the whole thing, they were pointing a gun at him.
“Hello, Avon,” Servalan said with a smile, “Or should I say, ‘Goodbye, Avon,’?”
Servalan pulled the trigger on her gun. However, the sabotage that the Master had wreaked on her weapon, while heretofore supposed imaginary, suddenly kicked into effect, and instead of resulting in a dead Avon, the slight clicking sound that the gun made, and the puff of smoke that it produced only caused Avon to laugh and draw his own weapon.
“Technological malfunction,” Avon laughed, and then, feeling magnanimous, offered, “Any last words?”
“WAIT!” shouted two voices.
The Doctor and Blake had both managed to catch up with him, and were running down the corridor.
“We have to take her into custody and give her a trial in front of a jury of her peers so that she can face true justice!” Blake yelled.
“Plus, killing is morally wrong, and if you do that you’re only stooping to her level!” the Doctor added.
Although the Doctor and Blake seemed well on their way to winning the gold in synchronized self-righteousness, before anything else could happen, a man suddenly appeared behind Servalan and shot her in the back of the head.
“Moral dilemma solved!” he said.
“Master?” the Doctor asked. “You look…different.”
“Yes, well, my dearly departed, dearly beloved got a bit shooty at the last minute. Luckily, I’d neglected to mention the whole regeneration thing.”
The Master turned from the Doctor, who was glaring at him sternly, to Blake, who was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, and finally settled on Avon, saying, “Women. Am I right?”
Avon, having no idea how to respond to this, settled on a non-committal, and hopefully appropriately butch, grunt.
“Is she really dead?” Blake asked.
“God, I hope so,” the Master said, “And believe me when I say, I checked everywhere for pocket watches. But no, she looks pretty dead.”
“We’re going to have a talk about this,” the Doctor said, “But it’d be best if we got out of here.”
“No, wait!” the Master said, “My TARDIS.”
“Your what?” Blake asked.
“His teleporting box,” the Doctor offered helpfully, before pointing at Avon, “and don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’ve been looking at mine. But we’d best go get it.”
They took off, the Master leading the way, stopping them in front of a large metal door.
“It’s through here,” the Master said.
“It’s locked,” Blake noted, “I knew we should’ve made Vila come along.”
“We don’t need Vila,” Avon said, a little annoyed, “I have my laser probe and-“
“Laser?” the Doctor asked, disgusted, “Sonic! Sonic screwdriver’ll do the trick.”
The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver, and the door popped open in short order.
Inside, what was apparently a TARDIS was hooked up to an incomprehensible mass of machinery.
“Oh, I’d forgotten,” the Master said. “Look, it’s sort of evil and complicated, and if you’ll just help me switch it off-“
“No,” the Doctor said, shaking his head and then nodding at Blake.
Blake unsheathed his weapon and fired at the Master’s TARDIS. It exploded rather spectacularly.
“You’re blowing up my TARDIS!” the Master hollered.
“Wait,” Avon said. “Is that something we could’ve used?”
“The whole thing is going to explode and kill us all,” the Master said bellowed with barely suppressed rage, “and I’m stranded!”
“We have a teleport, you know,” Blake said, clipping a bracelet onto the Master, before speaking into his own. “Cally, bring us up.”
“You’ve stranded me here!” the Master shouted at no one in particular as his atoms were slowly disassembled, and then reassembled on board the Liberator.
“Master,” the Doctor said, once aboard the Liberator again, and you could tell he was serious, because he was using his serious voice, “after all that’s gone on, I expect this should be a lesson to you. Which is why I’m stranding you here, where I’m sure President Blake-“
“President Blake?” Blake asked from where he was standing with the rest of the Liberator’s crew, all judiciously pretending not to be listening to the conversation.
“Oh, give it up,” the Master said annoyed, “it’s bound to happen. The people’ll vote for anyone these days.”
“Where President Blake can keep an eye on you! And, I dunno, can’t you, for me, just be less evil?”
“I-“ the Master started.
“I didn’t say not evil. I understand you can’t just stop being evil. But can’t you just be run-of-the-mill, normal evil again? The sort of evil that spits in someone’s coffee and tells them it’s sugar? Come on, I know you’ve got it in you. “
The Master gritted his teeth, fumed and huffed, but finally mumbled, “Oh, alright.”
“Terrific!” the Doctor said, clapping his hands together, “Then let’s celebrate.”
“Excellent suggestion,” Vila said. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“Er, Blake,” Avon said. “Do you think I could have a word with you? About the Liberator-“
“What about it?” Blake interrupted rather brusquely.
“Well, it was just that I was under the assumption that once this whole rebellion business was done, that we had an agreement that I would get the Liberator…” Avon trailed off as he noted the look of horror on Blake’s face.
“I couldn’t possibly do that now,” Blake said rather fervently, “I mean, in a sense, we’re just beginning! The funds in the treasure room would be an invaluable resource to any new government. And I’m sure there will still be some Federation hold-outs. No doubt, piracy will go up, so it wouldn’t be unwise to have someone patrolling the galaxy in a ship such as the Liberator. Jenna, maybe.”
“That sounds terrific,” Jenna said, cozying up to Blake, before shooting an aside to Avon. “Deal’s off.”
“Vila!” Avon sputtered, hoping for some back-up, despite this sudden, yet inevitable betrayal.
Vila shrugged. “That’s some tough luck, but I’m used to losing. You’ve just got to roll with the punches, mate.”
Avon stormed off to his own quarters, leaving the Doctor chattering away about universal pardons, and promising Gan a farm and something called a mule, and assuring Cally that he’d be able to end her exile from Auron.
***
Vila timed it very carefully. After the crew had celebrated, save for Avon, who had left to sulk in his quarters, and the Master, who had disappeared partway through (“He does that sometimes,” the Doctor said. “I wouldn’t worry about it unless the cabin starts to depressurize…”), Vila waited until the exact moment when everyone was drunk enough not to notice, carefully bumped into the Doctor, and palmed his sonic screwdriver.
Then, faking drunkenness he stumbled off under the pretense of having to be sick. Standing with his back against the wall in a side corridor, he carefully examined his prize.
“I’m gonna have to ask for you to give that back,” the Doctor said.
Vila jumped, and stuffed the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket, “What makes you think I took anything?”
“Houdini himself taught me sleight-of-hand,” the Doctor bragged.
“Who?” Vila asked.
“Never mind. Hey; everyone in there was spouting off about how great their future was going to be, and I didn’t hear you talking much. What are your plans?”
“Ah, me? Nothing much really. Bit of stealing,” he took the sonic out of his pocket and placed it in the Doctor’s outstretched hand. “Bit of hiding. The usual.”
“Ah,” the Doctor said, scratching the back of his neck. “What are your thoughts on travelling?”
“Why?” Vila asked.
“I just, you know. Wondered if you might want to come travel with me. We could go anywhere in time and space. ‘S pretty neat really. Lots of new people to steal from, too.”
“You want to travel with me?” Vila asked, completely gobsmacked. “But you can’t, really. I’m a pain. Everyone agrees.”
“I think you’re wonderful,” the Doctor said eagerly. “Plus, you’ve made the best Adrenaline and Soma Daiquiri I’ve ever had. The only one, actually, but still, it’s damned good!”
“Really?” Vila asked, still skeptical, but throwing caution to the wind. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”
“Terrific!” the Doctor said, grabbing Vila’s elbow and dragging him along, “Come on, I’ll show you the TARDIS.”
***
Meanwhile, Avon sulked mightily. He sat alone in his quarters, glaring at the wall, thinking up scheme after improbable scheme to destroy Blake.
He was quite cross when his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“What do you want?” Avon snapped as he opened the door.
The man on the other side was the one he recognized as the Master. The Master smiled a grim sort of grin, revealing far more teeth than was strictly necessary, or for that matter, strictly comforting.
“Hello,” the Master said. “I was just wondering; what are your thoughts on normal, everyday sorts of evil?”
Rating: PG-13 for an F bomb, and some dirty jokes.
Fandom: Blake's 7 and Doctor Who
Summary: The Master needs the Doctor's help. The Doctor saves yet another universe. Business as usual.
Notes: Thanks to janice_lester and linda_joyce for looking over this. This fic just came out. I dunno where it came from, but there you are.
“You’ve got to help me,” The Master said, his face taking up the entirety of a view screen in the TARDIS that the Doctor hadn’t even known existed until three seconds previously.
“You’re dead,” the Doctor said. It was just his luck that something like this would happen to him. One minute it was a flying bus, the next minute it was the Master…
“Obviously I’m not dead,” the Master said, “but you’ve really got to help me.”
“Is this a trap?” the Doctor asked, spinning about in a state of obvious confusion. “Am I being punked? Is the Ashton Kutcher android about to come in here and laugh at me?”
“No! Now pay attention to me, damn it,” the Master said. “As you can see, I am not dead. And I thought that I would inform you of my un-death by surprising you. What better surprise is there for someone than to try to take over the world? So, I managed to install a corrupt, totalitarian government and I was about to swan in and of course do the whole, use Earth as a staging ground for intergalactic and then spatial-temporal conquest, that whole thing, when I got a bit greedy.”
“Have I gone mad?” the Doctor asked, sonicing himself with the sonic screwdriver in an attempt to diagnose his heretofore unknown insanity.
“I met this woman. And I knew you would hate her, and she was really something, so of course I got a bit greedy. Oh, she was lovely. Oh, she was amoral. Oh, she was completely fucking insane. But it all went pear-shaped. She took my TARDIS-“
“YOU HAVE A TARDIS?” the Doctor shrieked, molesting his hair with his hands in a very strenuous fashion. “What? What?”
“And now she’s got me locked up in a basement, and she’s the president, and oh, God, the things she does to me, Doctor! I mean, you know how it is. Love at first sight, and then the next thing you know there are papercuts on your cock-“
“WHAT?!” the Doctor shouted to the unjust universe, his face, by now, a newly invented shade of purple.
“And you really need to help me. I’m calling in a favour. I’m sure there’s one time I didn’t kill you. OH! Yes, quite recently. Back when you were a shriveled up old-man puppet, I didn’t kill you! So, obviously, you owe me a favour.”
The Doctor stared at him, his face a mixture of horror and confusion, for several minutes. Finally, gathering what was left of his wits, the Doctor said, “Serves you right.”
“What? You can’t do this to me! You’re full of kindness and joy. It’s your duty as an annoyingly moral swot to save me!”
“I’m done. Through. Serves you bloody right,” the Doctor said, searching for a way to turn his new view screen off.
“But it’s a totalitarian government! People are suffering!”
“That’s your problem. Besides, it’s not like the galaxy is incapable of saving itself sometimes. It’ll all balance out,” the Doctor said, in a way that clearly indicated that he was on the verge of a mental breakdown at the unreality of this whole situation, and that he needed a serious drink.
“But that’s just it! The rebels! They’re useless! They’re a bunch of clueless criminals with a stolen alien spaceship and a box that talks!”
“Oh dear,” the Doctor said. That didn’t sound promising at all.
“Eh? Eh?” the Master coaxed, raising his eyebrows and grinning maniacally. “I know you love this sort of rubbish!”
“Alright, alright,” the Doctor said reluctantly.
“Great! Now the woman who’s holding me captive is called Servalan. But the bloke you’ll be looking for is named Blake…”
***
Nobody had believed Vila when he said that a blue box had suddenly appeared on the flight deck of the Liberator during his watch. Indeed, he’d gotten several snorts of disgust when he’d run out to tell the rest of the crew, and Cally had even tried to sedate him.
It was with great triumph that he showed the rest of the crew the strange blue box. He grinned with self-satisfaction, but resisted the urge to shout, “I told you so,” at an exceedingly loud volume.
Blake nibbled a finger as he looked at the big blue box.
“Well, what does Orac have to say about this?” he finally asked.
“Orac says that the anomaly appeared in the midst of some sort of spatio-temporal rift,” Avon replied.
Vila thought that this was an unnecessarily fancy way of saying, “Appeared out of fucking nowhere.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Cally asked, pointing one of the Liberator’s guns at it just to be sure.
“What do you think it is?” Jenna asked.
“Could it be booby-trapped?” Gan asked.
None of these questions were answered, because just at that moment, the door of the big blue box opened up, and out popped a man.
“Hello, I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor said, sticking his hand out for a nice friendly shake. “And you must be Blake.”
Blake wiped the excess spittle from his well-chewed fingers, and shook the Doctor’s hand.
“Now, I’m afraid I don’t know everyone else, so let’s go around the room and tell each other our names, our hobbies, and our favourite colour,” the Doctor said grinning broadly. “You can start.”
“Erm,” Vila began, staring at the Doctor’s finger pointing at him. “My name’s Vila Restal, I like stealing, and my favourite colour is yel-“
“Vila!” Avon hissed.
“Oi! Wait your turn,” the Doctor said, but then he grinned. “Alright, I guess you can go since you’re so eager.”
If looks could kill, the Doctor would no longer be in this body.
“Er, or not,” the Doctor said. “Let’s move on-“
“Sorry,” Blake said, holding up a hand, “but why are you here?”
“Oh. OH! Right. Well, I’m going to help you take down the Federation and restore democracy, freedom , and dignity to the people.”
“Oh,” Blake said, disappointed that he couldn’t think of anything more terribly stirring than that to say.
“But why?”
“As a sort of favour to a friend of mine. He’s found himself in a bit of a bad spot with your new President, and he’s just not sure how to break it off.”
“Your friend is Het Restram?” Avon asked, smirking.
In the din that followed, the Doctor learned that Het Restram was, in no uncertain terms, a traitor, a man-whore, an amoral sexual deviant, a complete lunatic, a shit-gobbling delusional twat, a complete train-wreck, an evil genius, a diabolical mastermind, a sex slave, and apparently, a bit of a fox.
The Doctor wasn’t impressed with their leadership abilities, but he had to hand it to them; their vocabulary was first-rate.
“Right, yeah. That’s about the sum of it.” The Doctor nodded.
“And he is your friend?” Cally asked, training her gun away from the box, and towards the Doctor. “And we should trust you?”
“Well, uh,” the Doctor started, then got distracted. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be slightly telepathic would you?”
Yes, Cally replied in the Doctor’s mind. However, her mental tone was rather stern, and her gun was still pointed at him.
“Yes, well, anyway,” the Doctor said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not exactly friends with him. Look, it’s complicated.”
“And you’re going to stop Servalan?” Avon asked, his voice dripping with doubt as he exercised his duties as the Liberator’s chief cynicism officer.
“I do this sort of thing all the time. Shouldn’t be too hard. I can take her down in five words. No, four. No, no. Three. Definitely three.”
***
Somewhere across the universe, the Master, alias Het Restram, sat pleasantly next to President Servalan at a state dinner, in front of hundreds of holo-cameras. As Servalan rattled off a rather complicated order for the courses that were to be prepared, he smiled and waved enthusiastically.
“And for desert, the tiramisu. Oh, I’ve forgotten to order the drinks. I’ll have the white wine, and he’ll have-“
The Master cut in, unexpectedly, leaned over Servalan, smiled at all the cameras, and said the three words he’d been instructed to say, “I’d like tea.”
***
“Anyway, all that should be taken care of by now. All that’s left is for you lot to storm in, fight the good fight, and lead Earth into a new era of peace, prosperity, and general freedom.”
“Really?” Gan asked.
“No, not really, you idiot,” Avon shot back. “This is some kind of trick.”
“Ask your computers if you don’t believe me,” the Doctor replied, skipping past the group of them to see how comfortable their flight couches were in comparison with his.
Avon glared at the Doctor, but took Orac’s key out of his pocket, strode over to the machine, and put it in.
“Orac, what is the state of Servalan’s presidency at this moment?”
“That question is not sufficiently specific. However, I will endeavor to inform you that at this moment, Servalan’s presidency is exceedingly tenuous. Following her inability to curtail her lover at a state event, the entire Federation government’s efficacy is being questioned. This, coupled with the previous success of the terrorist known as Roj Blake, has led to wide-scale revolts. Popular fervor has caused groups of citizens to take over the food and water supplies to ensure that they are free of suppressants. The domes have been opened by force, the restrictions on interplanetary and planetary travel have been forcibly lifted and-“
But no one really heard the rest, because the Doctor, who wasn’t nearly as nice as Vila, had smugly said,
“I told you so,” and Blake had broken into what could only be termed an, “I did it!” dance.
***
In the snack room of the Liberator, as the erstwhile freedom fighters ate snacks, three different groups were plotting.
“I suppose the first important thing is to initiate democratic elections,” Blake said thoughtfully, watching the Doctor who was inexplicably dipping chips into marmalade.
“Oh, yes,” the Doctor agreed. “’Course you’ll also want to make sure the new leader isn’t a lunatic. That’s pretty important too, in my experience. “
“But now everyone can be free. No more suppressants. And they’re opening up the domes! I think fresh air will do most people a world of good.”
“Yes, I’m pathologically inclined to dislike stifling undemocratic dome-based societies,” the Doctor said.
Across the room, in a dark corner, Avon was picking Vila’s head.
“So, do you think you could break into the Doctor’s teleporting box?”
“’Course I could!” Vila said, smacking his lips as he popped another cashew into his mouth. “I can get into anything, me. But I don’t work for free.”
“You don’t work at all, usually,” Avon huffed. “Look, assuming Blake’s a man of his word, I get the Liberator. Which means I get the treasure room. How would you like half of that treasure?”
“Of course you’d probably need someone to pilot the Liberator,” Jenna said, sitting down between Vila and Avon with a devious grin on her face.
Avon sighed in an eternally put-upon manner, “Right, we each will get one-third of the treasure room. But I get to keep the teleporting box. Deal?”
“Deal,” Vila and Jenna said in unison.
Meanwhile, Cally and Gan sat in the middle of the room, eating sticks of broccoli, and judging everyone.
***
In short order, it became all obvious that, so to speak, it was all over except for the crying. And so, it was decided, after some encouragement from the Doctor, that they were all going to go to Earth, go down-planet, find Servalan, and fix all that was wrong in the universe
Servalan, having holed herself up in her presidential mansion, and figuring that some splinter group or another would be out to get her shortly, decided that it was time to make good her escape.
“Right, while I’ve managed to figure out how to use it for evil, I haven’t a clue how to use your TARDIS for travel purposes, and I think that it’s time we go,” said Servalan to the Master, as she lounged on an ottoman while a rather vicious sounding gun battle went on outside.
“Er, I’m not going,” the Master said. “And also, I don’t love you. Never did. And also, we’re breaking up. You’re a bit too mad for my tastes.”
“Oh,” Servalan said, rather amused. “Did you think I loved you?”
“Yes?” the Master said, but it was more a question than anything. He was, however, pretty fantastic, and had every reason to believe that most people loved him.
“Well, you are thick. Anyway, it’s a bit of a shame, but I suppose I have to kill you,” Servalan said, drawing her hold-out laser from an improbable pocket.
“Ah, see I knew you’d do that, so I replaced the battery pack with a dud,” the Master said cheerfully.
“But I knew you’d do that, which is why I replaced the batteries before I thought about killing you,” Servalan replied icily.
“But I knew you’d do THAT, which is why I sabotaged the gun.”
“You’re probably bluffing,” Servalan said, and shot him, before walking out of the room, and seeing if she could figure out the TARDIS on her own.
The Master tried to regenerate as quietly as possible so as not to attract attention.
***
Meanwhile, having teleported down to Earth, and having run ahead in an attempt to be cool and get there before everybody, Avon tripped over thin air, skidded partway down a corridor, took a bit of skin off his palm, and managed to squeak in an undignified manner while doing it.
Looking around quickly to make sure no one had witnessed any of this, he discovered, much to his horror, that not only had someone witnessed the whole thing, they were pointing a gun at him.
“Hello, Avon,” Servalan said with a smile, “Or should I say, ‘Goodbye, Avon,’?”
Servalan pulled the trigger on her gun. However, the sabotage that the Master had wreaked on her weapon, while heretofore supposed imaginary, suddenly kicked into effect, and instead of resulting in a dead Avon, the slight clicking sound that the gun made, and the puff of smoke that it produced only caused Avon to laugh and draw his own weapon.
“Technological malfunction,” Avon laughed, and then, feeling magnanimous, offered, “Any last words?”
“WAIT!” shouted two voices.
The Doctor and Blake had both managed to catch up with him, and were running down the corridor.
“We have to take her into custody and give her a trial in front of a jury of her peers so that she can face true justice!” Blake yelled.
“Plus, killing is morally wrong, and if you do that you’re only stooping to her level!” the Doctor added.
Although the Doctor and Blake seemed well on their way to winning the gold in synchronized self-righteousness, before anything else could happen, a man suddenly appeared behind Servalan and shot her in the back of the head.
“Moral dilemma solved!” he said.
“Master?” the Doctor asked. “You look…different.”
“Yes, well, my dearly departed, dearly beloved got a bit shooty at the last minute. Luckily, I’d neglected to mention the whole regeneration thing.”
The Master turned from the Doctor, who was glaring at him sternly, to Blake, who was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, and finally settled on Avon, saying, “Women. Am I right?”
Avon, having no idea how to respond to this, settled on a non-committal, and hopefully appropriately butch, grunt.
“Is she really dead?” Blake asked.
“God, I hope so,” the Master said, “And believe me when I say, I checked everywhere for pocket watches. But no, she looks pretty dead.”
“We’re going to have a talk about this,” the Doctor said, “But it’d be best if we got out of here.”
“No, wait!” the Master said, “My TARDIS.”
“Your what?” Blake asked.
“His teleporting box,” the Doctor offered helpfully, before pointing at Avon, “and don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’ve been looking at mine. But we’d best go get it.”
They took off, the Master leading the way, stopping them in front of a large metal door.
“It’s through here,” the Master said.
“It’s locked,” Blake noted, “I knew we should’ve made Vila come along.”
“We don’t need Vila,” Avon said, a little annoyed, “I have my laser probe and-“
“Laser?” the Doctor asked, disgusted, “Sonic! Sonic screwdriver’ll do the trick.”
The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver, and the door popped open in short order.
Inside, what was apparently a TARDIS was hooked up to an incomprehensible mass of machinery.
“Oh, I’d forgotten,” the Master said. “Look, it’s sort of evil and complicated, and if you’ll just help me switch it off-“
“No,” the Doctor said, shaking his head and then nodding at Blake.
Blake unsheathed his weapon and fired at the Master’s TARDIS. It exploded rather spectacularly.
“You’re blowing up my TARDIS!” the Master hollered.
“Wait,” Avon said. “Is that something we could’ve used?”
“The whole thing is going to explode and kill us all,” the Master said bellowed with barely suppressed rage, “and I’m stranded!”
“We have a teleport, you know,” Blake said, clipping a bracelet onto the Master, before speaking into his own. “Cally, bring us up.”
“You’ve stranded me here!” the Master shouted at no one in particular as his atoms were slowly disassembled, and then reassembled on board the Liberator.
“Master,” the Doctor said, once aboard the Liberator again, and you could tell he was serious, because he was using his serious voice, “after all that’s gone on, I expect this should be a lesson to you. Which is why I’m stranding you here, where I’m sure President Blake-“
“President Blake?” Blake asked from where he was standing with the rest of the Liberator’s crew, all judiciously pretending not to be listening to the conversation.
“Oh, give it up,” the Master said annoyed, “it’s bound to happen. The people’ll vote for anyone these days.”
“Where President Blake can keep an eye on you! And, I dunno, can’t you, for me, just be less evil?”
“I-“ the Master started.
“I didn’t say not evil. I understand you can’t just stop being evil. But can’t you just be run-of-the-mill, normal evil again? The sort of evil that spits in someone’s coffee and tells them it’s sugar? Come on, I know you’ve got it in you. “
The Master gritted his teeth, fumed and huffed, but finally mumbled, “Oh, alright.”
“Terrific!” the Doctor said, clapping his hands together, “Then let’s celebrate.”
“Excellent suggestion,” Vila said. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“Er, Blake,” Avon said. “Do you think I could have a word with you? About the Liberator-“
“What about it?” Blake interrupted rather brusquely.
“Well, it was just that I was under the assumption that once this whole rebellion business was done, that we had an agreement that I would get the Liberator…” Avon trailed off as he noted the look of horror on Blake’s face.
“I couldn’t possibly do that now,” Blake said rather fervently, “I mean, in a sense, we’re just beginning! The funds in the treasure room would be an invaluable resource to any new government. And I’m sure there will still be some Federation hold-outs. No doubt, piracy will go up, so it wouldn’t be unwise to have someone patrolling the galaxy in a ship such as the Liberator. Jenna, maybe.”
“That sounds terrific,” Jenna said, cozying up to Blake, before shooting an aside to Avon. “Deal’s off.”
“Vila!” Avon sputtered, hoping for some back-up, despite this sudden, yet inevitable betrayal.
Vila shrugged. “That’s some tough luck, but I’m used to losing. You’ve just got to roll with the punches, mate.”
Avon stormed off to his own quarters, leaving the Doctor chattering away about universal pardons, and promising Gan a farm and something called a mule, and assuring Cally that he’d be able to end her exile from Auron.
***
Vila timed it very carefully. After the crew had celebrated, save for Avon, who had left to sulk in his quarters, and the Master, who had disappeared partway through (“He does that sometimes,” the Doctor said. “I wouldn’t worry about it unless the cabin starts to depressurize…”), Vila waited until the exact moment when everyone was drunk enough not to notice, carefully bumped into the Doctor, and palmed his sonic screwdriver.
Then, faking drunkenness he stumbled off under the pretense of having to be sick. Standing with his back against the wall in a side corridor, he carefully examined his prize.
“I’m gonna have to ask for you to give that back,” the Doctor said.
Vila jumped, and stuffed the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket, “What makes you think I took anything?”
“Houdini himself taught me sleight-of-hand,” the Doctor bragged.
“Who?” Vila asked.
“Never mind. Hey; everyone in there was spouting off about how great their future was going to be, and I didn’t hear you talking much. What are your plans?”
“Ah, me? Nothing much really. Bit of stealing,” he took the sonic out of his pocket and placed it in the Doctor’s outstretched hand. “Bit of hiding. The usual.”
“Ah,” the Doctor said, scratching the back of his neck. “What are your thoughts on travelling?”
“Why?” Vila asked.
“I just, you know. Wondered if you might want to come travel with me. We could go anywhere in time and space. ‘S pretty neat really. Lots of new people to steal from, too.”
“You want to travel with me?” Vila asked, completely gobsmacked. “But you can’t, really. I’m a pain. Everyone agrees.”
“I think you’re wonderful,” the Doctor said eagerly. “Plus, you’ve made the best Adrenaline and Soma Daiquiri I’ve ever had. The only one, actually, but still, it’s damned good!”
“Really?” Vila asked, still skeptical, but throwing caution to the wind. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”
“Terrific!” the Doctor said, grabbing Vila’s elbow and dragging him along, “Come on, I’ll show you the TARDIS.”
***
Meanwhile, Avon sulked mightily. He sat alone in his quarters, glaring at the wall, thinking up scheme after improbable scheme to destroy Blake.
He was quite cross when his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“What do you want?” Avon snapped as he opened the door.
The man on the other side was the one he recognized as the Master. The Master smiled a grim sort of grin, revealing far more teeth than was strictly necessary, or for that matter, strictly comforting.
“Hello,” the Master said. “I was just wondering; what are your thoughts on normal, everyday sorts of evil?”