Recent titles in the Doctor Who series:

WISHING WELL

Trevor Baxendale

THE PIRATE LOOP

Simon Guerrier

PEACEMAKER

James Swallow

MARTHA IN THE MIRROR

Justin Richards

SNOWGLOBE 7

Mike Tucker

THE MANY HANDS

Dale Smith

GHOSTS OF INDIA

Mark Morris

SHINING DARKNESS

Mark Michalowski

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

Published in 2008 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing. Ebury Publishing is a

division of the Random House Group Ltd.

© Simon Messingham, 2008

Simon Messingham has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work in

accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

Doctor Who is a BBC Wales production for BBC One Executive Producers: Russell T

Davies and Julie Gardner Series Producer: Phil Collinson

Original series broadcast on BBC Television. Format © BBC 1963. ‘Doctor Who’,

‘TARDIS’ and the Doctor Who logo are trademarks of the British Broadcasting Corporation

and are used under licence.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,

recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

The Random House Group Ltd Reg. No. 954009.

Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found

at www.randomhouse.co.uk.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 846 07558 0

The Random House Group Limited supports the Forest Stewardship

Council (FSC), the leading international forest certification organisation. All our titles that

are printed on Greenpeace approved FSC certified paper carry the FSC logo. Our paper

procurement policy can be found at www.rbooks.co.uk/environment

Series Consultant: Justin Richards

Project Editor: Steve Tribe

Cover design by Lee Binding © BBC 2008

Typeset in Albertina and Deviant Strain

Printed and bound in Germany by GGP Media GmbH

This book is dedicated, with love,

to Ralph Scott and Oscar Daniel

and their terrific Mum.

You will be told: Planet 1 is real.

Planet 1 is real just as any other planet is real: an actual

world orbiting an actual sun in an actual bona fide solar

system.

Planet 1. The planet where technology got so advanced

its ruler is in every material sense all-powerful. The planet

where the very molecules of the air can be sculpted into

whatever you desire. Oh, it’s real, all right. You will be

told.

However, should you ask where, should you demand

specific coordinates, you will be told Planet 1 is, well, it’s

in the spatial wastes ... past the Outer Rim ... at the back

of beyond ... Oh, look, it’s just ... out there! And that’s all

you’ll get.

In fact, so hard to find is Planet 1 that many

civilisations have gone full circle and now consider the

whole planet a myth. Life in the galaxy is hard and such

myths are generated easily. Planet 1 is simply too good to

be true. People want it to be true, so they believe it is true,

which unfortunately does not make it actually true.

Therefore, you will be told: Planet 1 is not real.

Sebastiene would not have it any other way.

Sebastiene is a collector. He is also a charmer, a thief,

your best friend, a Level 20 Rogue, the most beautiful

creature you have ever seen, a player of games, a man you

would lay down your life for, and a murderer.

Over the centuries, an unnaturally long time if you stop

to think about it for one who seems so young, Sebastiene

has ruled Planet 1. He has everything a sentient creature

might possibly desire but he wants more. Not gold or

treasure or any currency. He does not need money. Why

would Sebastiene want money?

Now, any planet rumoured to groan with the most

powerful technology ever amassed is going to be

attractive to a certain type of individual. The type who

would prefer Sebastiene to step down; to make way. And

now we see what Sebastiene craves instead of money. He

wants you to come and find him. If you covet what is his,

if you can find the place, Planet 1 is there. All you have to

do is take it from him.

If rumours are to be believed, there are those who have

found Planet 1. Unfortunately, rumours are all you get, for

despite the hundreds who have made this claim and

headed into space, none has ever returned. Perhaps they

perished in the wastes of deep space, perhaps they did not.

And you never know, perhaps they found Sebastiene.

Then again, just occasionally, some are invited.

‘The good news: Earth,’ said the Doctor.

Donna winced as the klaxon started up again. The

TARDIS rang with the sound. A tooth-drilling, eardrum-

shattering siren guaranteed to send the listener clinically

insane after ten seconds. She gripped the console to stop

the sound sweeping her away. ‘And?’ she growled.

The Doctor beamed a great big smile. ‘That’s a distress

signal! We get to help, again.’ He pulled on a great woolly

coat. ‘It’s weird. Your lot shouldn’t be able to send a

distress signal like that. Not in this time frame. Not this

kind of distress signal.’

‘What kind of distress signal?’

‘The loud annoying distress signal.’ He consulted a

reading on the TARDIS console, whistling as if he

couldn’t hear a thing.

Donna nodded. ‘Turn it off!’

The Doctor frowned. ‘What did you say?’

‘Turn. It. Off!’

‘Eh?’

Donna bared her teeth. ‘I said: Turn—’

‘Hold on. I’ll turn it off.’ He stabbed a button and the

noise stopped. ‘What did you say?’

The console room startled Donna with its sudden

silence. She shouted anyway. ‘Doctor! I’ll kill you!’

‘What? What did I do?’ He stood half and half out of

his bulky coat, a picture of bruised innocence.

Donna thumped the door controls and stormed out. The

Doctor listened. There was an expectant pause. The

Doctor tried to hide his smile as he heard Donna scream.

‘Oh yeah,’ he shouted. ‘The bad news: Antarctica.’

‘Snow!’ said Donna. ‘You did this to me on that Ood

planet. We’ve done snow. What is it you’ve got against

tropical? My nose is turning red.’

The Doctor bounded over the snow. ‘Donna, your nose

turns red at the drop of a cat. Going red is your nose’s first

and greatest talent.’

‘Some people would tire of being so rude. They would

run out of steam, get bored, but don’t you give in to them.

You crack on.’

He seemed fascinated by the snow. ‘They say the Inuit

have fifty words for this.’

‘I’ve got a few myself,’ Donna muttered. Then she saw

it. She scrabbled over a drift and there it was. Down a

gentle snowy slope about a mile ahead: a vast ice sheet

spread out to the horizon like a gigantic skating rink. Two

tracked vehicles were parked over a particularly dark

patch of ice. Men, nothing but smudges in the distance,

stood in a ring, their arms outstretched. They had planted

flags, marking the boundaries of the dark patch.

‘What is that?’ asked Donna. ‘That’s a buried

spaceship, isn’t it?’

‘They found something,’ said the Doctor. ‘Under the

ice.’

Excited, he put one hand over his mouth and pointed

with the other. White powder puffed up around him as he

stamped his feet with excitement. ‘Look. Snow-Cats.

Tracked vehicles. Oh, brilliant. I love Snow-Cats.’

‘You love everything. So it’s a mission to dig up a

crashed flying saucer.’

‘I love missions to dig up a crashed flying saucer!’

‘I thought you might.’

The Doctor jumped up and down. ‘Let’s get involved.’

The TARDIS waited, as it had waited so many times

before. It hummed to itself, feeling the cold Antarctic

snow dropping and settling onto its casing. The TARDIS

was very good at waiting.

This time, however, it didn’t wait as long as it might

have expected. About ten metres from the front door, the

dropping snow suddenly shot apart in all directions,

leaving a man-shaped hole in the air. A figure filled that

hole, and it was a figure the TARDIS would have

recognised: handsome angular face, dark friendly eyes,

straight hair.

The man shivered in his shabby suit. He danced up and

down to pump warmth into his plimsolled feet.

He watched the Doctor and Donna trudging through

drifts towards the doomed expedition. Smiling, he thought

of what waited for them there. Bit scary, if truth be told.

Next, he held up a large metal key and kissed it. He

was ever so excited. ‘The TARDIS! I can’t believe it!’ He

punched air then clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle

his giggles. He cast wild glances towards the Doctor and

Donna to check they weren’t looking back.

He held up the key. ‘Moment of truth,’ he told it.

The man walked to the TARDIS, unlocked the door and

stepped inside.

The door closed.

Despite the howl of the polar wind, the voice was still

just about audible from outside. It was the voice of the

happiest man on the planet.

‘Oh. My. God. I’m actually standing in the console

room. Yes!’

Sixty seconds later, the TARDIS disappeared.

Sebastiene had long resigned himself to the fact that, in

all modesty, he was the most insanely beautiful man in the

universe. His present face was made up of superlatives:

the bluest eyes, the finest golden head of hair and the

whitest of sharp teeth. He had a perfectly central aquiline

nose and full lips. His body was toned to perfection with

sword practice and he had added a small duelling scar on

his right cheek, but that was just for show. He glanced in

the mirror once more to make sure, and to prepare the

right expression to greet his guests.

‘Damn me if I don’t look fine today,’ he announced to

his reflection. He snapped his fingers. The doors of his

chamber flew open and in rushed Sebastiene’s dressing

retinue: six wigged and powdered robots all designed to

fit their master into various specific articles of clothing.

His personal Butler robot followed close behind.

The Butler was a big chap. At three metres tall, he was

a really big chap. Sebastiene designed all his high-ranking

servants big. An ironic metaphor about life and power or

something, he was certain.

Sebastiene currently had a fondness for the design of

noble European houses of eighteenth-century Earth. He

liked the dashing uniforms with their tight decorated

military blouses, dangling swords and spurs. He liked the

long black moustaches and so made all his servants grow

them. He had even remodelled his home to resemble a

romantic Ruritanian castle – on a size and scale that could

never have existed on Earth, but in his sensibility bigger

was definitely, and always, better.

Sebastiene examined today’s uniform. Scarlet tunic,

tight cherry-picker trousers, long gleaming boots, gold

inlaid sword belt. ‘The best yet,’ he said to his Butler.

‘Most fitting for a special day like today. My compliments

to the tailor.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ came the reply.

‘Now, let me gaze at my realm.’ Sebastiene jumped

over the huge four-poster bed and thumped against the

window.

Down in his immense cobbled courtyard, his servants –

his robots in their silk colour-coded liveries – prepared the

horse-drawn coaches for the hunters. He was ready.

A molecular air-screen shimmered. A picture formed in

the air. His Supervisor robot, speaking from the control

room deep in the Chateau’s heart. The Supervisor bowed.

This robot was another biggie like the Butler but rather

more soberly dressed. Sebastiene liked to see his

command staff in functional Napoleonic blue, with

chunky gold buttons and huge tricorn hats. Gave the place

an efficient military feel.

‘Speak, Supervisor,’ said Sebastiene.

‘My master. The starships are dropping from orbit and

requesting permission to land. Except Commissar

Weimark, who is demanding permission.’

‘Open the force fields,’ said Sebastiene. ‘Let the

hunters descend.’

There was a whoosh of inrushing molecules and the

air-screen closed.

The Chateau, Sebastiene’s home on Planet 1, was suitably

over the top. The architecture may have originated in

eighteenth-century Europe, but the sheer scale would have

been beyond the richest of its kings.

Sebastiene’s palace stretched from horizon to horizon,

far too overwhelming for the human mind to take in. The

intricate chiselling of the stone ramparts, the rich colours

of the stained glass, the carvings on the hanging wooden

eaves, might have been pleasing on their own but piled

together they just made you feel sick. Not that Sebastiene

cared. He could never go too fancy.

However, the WOW factor was the view from the air.

Sebastiene’s face, gigantic, staring right at you as your

shuttle dropped straight into his mouth. The Chateau had

been constructed in the image of its master. Like

Sebastiene himself, the castle was big, beautiful and

absolutely crazy. Awe-inspiring was the idea. He was big

on awe, and so far Sebastiene had never been

disappointed.

The twelve shuttles touched down in a clearing in the

Chateau gardens. Their occupants were ferried by ornate

horse-drawn carriages past the stone gates and into

Sebastiene’s courtyard. The carriages contained, without

the knowledge of those within, sophisticated sensor

devices which secretly and thoroughly scanned their body

chemistry, DNA and electro-kinetic auras.

Sebastiene had arranged for the morning to be misty, to

set off the Chateau’s landscaped gardens. Fir tree forests

pierced cloud in the far mountains.

The horses pulled up at marble steps leading to gigantic

jewel-studded oak doors. The hunters emerged warily,

sizing up the Palace. Sebastiene sensed their tension,

almost smelled it. Like them he thrived on heightened

sensations; the rising of the hairs on the back of the neck.

He lived for it.

Time to greet his guests. He didn’t need to check the

list; he knew them all well enough. Wondering whether

any would be stupid enough to try and kill him,

Sebastiene strode magnificently into the state room.

To construct the exact conference table he wanted,

Sebastiene had grown and then destroyed a rainforest of

mahogany. The grain of the wood had to be perfect, a

demand which on average used up forty tree trunks per

centimetre of table. The process resulted in tremendous

environmental waste. No matter, the effect was

magnificent. The table gleamed in the sunlight, which

Sebastiene had arranged to shine through the jewelled

windows at a forty-degree angle.

The hunters sat around the table, all twelve feeling

clumsy and uncomfortable; already in a foul mood, which

Sebastiene drank in as he entered.

‘My friends!’ he yelled, waving his silk handkerchief.

‘Welcome to Planet 1!’

He studied their faces. The awe was satisfactory. ‘Yes,’

he continued. ‘I am Sebastiene.’ He took a bow.

One end of the vast room shimmered and the air

molecules solidified to define a screen and a picture: him

taking his seat. Crossing elegant legs, Sebastiene snapped

his fingers and the screen disappeared.

‘The Endangered Dangerous Species Society,’ he said.

‘All gathered together on my little planet. Esteemed

members, I am honoured.’

A babble of argument erupted from the assembled

company. Sebastiene raised his hand to silence them. ‘No,

no, my friends. No need to pretend; not here. Your

identities are a secret; you have my word. Don’t ask me

how I came by your membership list; I just did.’

The hunters sniffed, waiting for the catch, the trap. But

all knew better than to try anything now.

‘The Society for Endangered Dangerous Species. Does

what it says on the tin. Except that tin doesn’t say that

you’re the ones who make them endangered.’

They were hooked. Of course they were or they would

never have come. The hunters were a diverse bunch –

humans, ab-humans, un-humans and a giant insect.

‘Membership is simple: you must provide a trophy.

Evidence of a kill. Head, horns or Welsh, it doesn’t matter.

The species must be endangered and dangerous to human

life. Not politically correct but awfully fun. I believe the

Endangered Dangerous Species Society is responsible for

the elimination of over three hundred rare breeds, as well

as being on the wanted list of every security force in the

civilised galaxy.’ Sebastiene laughed. ‘I’m so excited!

Aren’t you?’

At last, one of the hunters overcame the awe and stood

up. He had a grey, bloodless face with hooded purple eyes.

The man was incredibly thin, over two metres tall and

dressed in a long leather coat. ‘Sebastiene,’ he said in an

emotionless voice. ‘What is this Society of which you

speak? I do not have time to indulge fantasy. Your

flippancy is ...’ he searched for the word, ‘irresponsible.’

‘Commissar Weimark.’ Sebastiene looked at the grey

face. ‘The Cleanser of Beriagrad. If memory serves, your

ticket into the club was the antlers of an Irradiate

Grinderstag. A species now extinct, thanks to you.’

If the Commissar was shocked, he managed not to

show it. He was too good for that. ‘I will have no part of

this childish game.’

‘Oh, it’s a game, Commissar,’ said Sebastiene, ‘but

there’s nothing childish about it. Don’t make that mistake.’

He stared unblinking at Weimark. ‘Now, sit down.’

A chill seemed to run through the room. Weimark sat. A

single bead of perspiration ran down his slack face. He

turned away.

‘Enough!’ bellowed Brutus – the augmented Simian.

He thumped the table with impressive force, splintering

the perfect wood. ‘If such a Society did exist, which it

doesn’t, why would you be interested? As you know so

much about us, you know there can only be twelve

members.’ He looked around at his colleagues and bared

his yellow teeth in a gorilla smile. ‘The only twelve

members there have ever been. What animal is left for us

to hunt? We have taken them all!’ He laughed and plonked

himself back onto his seat.

Sebastiene smiled his smile, the one he used to charm

galactic emperors and rich widows alike. Inwardly, he was

marvelling at the Simian’s sheer stupidity. It wasn’t every

day one came across stupidity like that. Quite touching

really.

Sebastiene put his spurred feet on the jewelled table. ‘I

have a trophy for you. The ultimate trophy. You won’t get

better than him. I think you’ll find it worth your while.’

He waved a hand and a molecular screen flashed up a

3-D portrait of a smiling, intense young humanoid male.

A third hunter, or rather huntress, hooded and

anonymous in her Carpalian veils, raised a long-nailed

finger and pointed to the floating portrait. ‘I know that

face. Who?’

‘He, my friends, is my trophy. He is the most

dangerous life form in the universe. The last Time Lord.

You all know him, in one form or another, as the Doctor.’

Sebastiene looked around the table at the Endangered

Dangerous Species Society. ‘I think we’re in for one hell

of a safari.’

Six men were cramming equipment into their cramped

Snow-Cats. One man filmed the others with a camcorder.

The triangular flags blew horizontal in the wicked

Antarctic wind. The cameraman lowered the camcorder

and dropped his furry parka hood to look in disbelief at

the approaching strangers. His beard was lined with frost.

‘Who the hell are you?’ The man’s voice floated away

in the cruel icy wind, as Donna and the Doctor reached

him. ‘How did you get here?’

Donna pulled her coat collar up round her frozen face.

The Doctor flashed a black wallet. ‘We’re the rescue team.

You know, for the distress signal.’

The man nodded. Donna realised he hadn’t heard a

word but the psychic paper had done its usual trick. Now

the other men stopped to look at the new arrivals.

‘I’m Dan Petroullis,’ said the cameraman. ‘Snowcap

Geologist. I detected the sub-strata energy field that

alerted us to the find.’

Donna shrugged. ‘Good for you, Dan.’

‘You just missed Colonel Barclay! He’s already gone

back to Snowcap!’ Dan Petroullis pointed a thick gloved

hand off somewhere to the horizon. ‘He wanted to have a

go at the specimen as soon as he could.’

‘Snowcap?’ asked Donna.

‘Antarctic Space Tracking station. Must be 1986, or is

that the year 2000? Specimen? What do you mean,

specimen?’ The Doctor looked at Donna. His eyes were

wide. ‘Oh dear,’ he said.

She looked back at him. ‘What?’

Petroullis poked the Doctor’s shoulder. ‘You know; the

animal in the ice block. We dug it out twelve hours ago.

It’s OK,’ he said. ‘As soon as they get it into the lab,

they’re gonna start the thermal melt.’

‘Right,’ said the Doctor.

Petroullis smiled through his icy beard. ‘Some find,

huh? Scientific discovery of the century. Soon get

whatever’s in there thawed out.’ He gave the Doctor a

thumbs-up and kept grinning. ‘Can’t wait to see what it

looks like.’

‘I think we’d better get to your base as soon as is

humanly possible,’ said the Doctor.

The Doctor’s impish face looked down from the air-

screen. He smirked as if taunting the hunters, daring them

on.

The voices were a burble of noise but they all said the

same thing.

‘Did he say the Doctor?’

‘Look, he’s not real...’

‘Do me a favour...’

‘Oh come on,’ Sebastiene interrupted. ‘Surely

somebody wants a pop. I offer you the finest trophy in the

universe and you babble like frightened children.’

Now there was silence. The hunters looked at him. Yes,

Sebastiene realised, they were afraid.

At last, one found the courage to speak. Inevitably, it

was Commissar Weimark. ‘Sebastiene,’ he said, ‘this is

folly. The Doctor is a myth...’

‘Let me assure you, the Doctor is very real. Oh he was

quiet for a while, the flame of his memory fanned only by

obscure cults, but now the universe rings once more with

his deeds. Every child in the galaxy has heard of the

Doctor.’

Sebastiene stood. He walked round the perfect table.

This was the sell. ‘Should you succeed, you will succeed

where hundreds, thousands of others have failed. The

Endangered Dangerous Species Society will live in

eternity.’

‘And if we fail?’ rasped a metallic voice. The

Semblance of Draxyx, speaking from its armoured

carapace.

‘If you fail then I get to hunt you,’ Sebastiene replied.

‘Come on, there are twelve of you. Surely someone can

bag him. Fair game?’

He blinked, and the air-screen changed picture to a

digital map: areas divided by fizzing blue lines. ‘Hunting

Zones, one for each of you, tailored to your individual

chosen environments. You just have to wait. The Doctor

will land at random in one of your zones. From then it’s

up to you. Should a hunter miss and survive, Planet 1 will

transmat the Doctor to another random zone and we start

again. If the Doctor is killed, I will return the remaining

hunters to your home planets, with considerable

compensation for your time and effort, of course.’

Brutus let out a bellow of such raw rage that the whole

room was silenced. Even Sebastiene was surprised. The

Simian hurled his chair away and beat his chest. ‘Enough!

I will have no part of this madness. The Doctor cannot be

vanquished by mortal hand. This is written in our holiest

book. I will leave now.’ He pointed a giant gloved fist at

Sebastiene. ‘Do not try to stop me, powdered fop.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Sebastiene.

Brutus stomped to the back of the conference room.

Gilt-framed double doors opened as he approached.

Determined to have the last word, the Simian turned and

sneered at his fellow hunters. ‘The Doctor? He will kill

you all—’

Sebastiene pointed. A lance of bright light flashed from

his hand and with a loud pop incinerated Brutus. The soft

sunlight caught the ashes drifting to the floor.

‘Impressive,’ said the Carpalian Witch. ‘But you did

say you wouldn’t dream of stopping him.’

‘Oops.’ Sebastiene looked coolly at his hand. ‘Anyone

else bursting to go?’

No one was.

They reached Snowcap Base three hours later. A low red

sun was hanging in the air, threatening to drop under the

horizon. At the Doctor’s urging, the Snow-Cats had

charged crazily and dangerously over the snow. Donna’s

head was sore from the rattling and banging as the tracked

vehicle bumped over the uneven terrain. The four

scientists inside were hot in their parkas, and irritated at

having their unique scientific find hijacked by a madman.

‘What were you thinking?’ the Doctor whined. ‘You

don’t just thaw aliens out of ice blocks!’

‘Why not?’ asked a scientist. ‘It’s been frozen for

twenty thousand years.’

‘That makes it worse!’

‘How do you know it’s an alien, anyway?’ asked

another.

‘What’s it gonna do?’ asked the third.

The Snow-Cat lurched and they all tumbled forward.

‘What’s that noise?’ asked the driver.

Snowcap Base didn’t seem much to Donna. Just some

chimneys sticking out of the snowy ground and a couple

of sheds, although the Doctor insisted it would look a lot

better underground.

Men were screaming. Donna could hear the sound as

she emerged from the Snow-Cat.

Gunfire and panic seeped out of the chimneys.

She saw a crude rope and plank gangway leading past

the chimneys to what looked like a closed submarine

hatch. The Doctor and the team shuffled along the

gangway’s wooden boards as the wind whipped snow

around them.

‘Security squad to laboratory area immediately!’ a

frightened electronic voice wafted up. ‘Immediately! The

specimen has broken loose! Repeat: it’s loose!’ And then

Donna heard a roar, a sound so awful and alien she didn’t

need the Antarctic to freeze her blood.

The Doctor looked at Donna. She saw the excitement

in his eyes. He leaped to open the hatch but she caught his

arm. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t.’ She looked round for

help but Petroullis and his chums were just standing in the

snow, stunned.

The Doctor freed his arm. ‘I’ve got to. You can’t let an

expedition full of people this dumb try and sort things out

on their own.’

At last, a shifty human raised his hand. ‘I say,’ he spoke in

a nasal English tone. His buck teeth protruded beneath a

sweaty moustache.

‘You may speak, Lord Percy,’ said Sebastiene. ‘And in

case you think I might be fooled by your oh-so English

dithering, I might remind everyone that you are the man

responsible for bagging the last of the Stellar Raptors. So I

won’t take the trouble to be. Fooled, that is. Please,

proceed.’

Flustered by such a candid description of his character,

Lord Percy spluttered. ‘How are we supposed to find the

Doctor? I mean, how are we supposed to track down a

bounder who can travel anywhere in time and space?

Assuming that he’s really real, if you see what I mean.’

‘You don’t. I have already found him for you. All you

have to do is catch him.’

Weimark sneered. ‘How will you bring him here? Even

the mighty Sebastiene couldn’t—’

‘He will be here, Commissar. The Doctor has a

weakness. He, unlike you, cares about people. And please,

never tell me what I can and can’t do.’

‘Proof would be nice,’ said the Carpalian Witch. ‘Not

necessary. Just nice.’

‘Oh well.’ Sebastiene stifled a yawn. ‘If you insist.’

He clicked his gloved fingers.

An awful noise rang round the conference room. A

noise like a barrel organ with emphysema. For those

hunters who knew, terror crawled up their faces.

An object faded into the room: a battered blue box with

a light on its roof. Before the hunters could react, a door in

the box opened and a man leaped out.

‘Ta da!’ The Doctor winked. ‘All right?’

The Doctor and Donna ran through the freezing tunnels.

Snowcap’s emergency lights were flashing intermittently

and there was a strong smell of smoke. Gunfire kept going

off somewhere in the maze. More gunfire, then an alien

roar, then the gunfire stopped.

‘There’s something wrong, Donna,’ said the Doctor.

‘You’re not kidding.’ She was out of breath.

Underground, Snowcap was hotter than hell. ‘That thing’s

killing everybody.’

The Doctor paused in his run. ‘I mean: the distress

signal.’

‘Forget that! They’re dying down here.’

The roar came again and Donna tried not to fall to her

knees in terror. ‘We’ve got to help them.’

An explosion boomed ahead. The Doctor sniffed. ‘That

sounds like a laboratory blowing up.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘The smell.’

A figure ran at them out of the gloom. A man, a very

frightened man in a green uniform caked in slime and

blood. He didn’t even see the Doctor and Donna until they

grabbed his arms. ‘Bullets won’t stop it!’ He struggled, his

eyes panicked and unfocused. ‘We’re all going to die!’

‘Mate!’ Donna yelled. ‘Where are the others?’

The man still didn’t see her. He seemed to answer a

completely different question. ‘It’s out. Growing... the

scientists said... growing. It just sucked them in...’

‘Where’s the Colonel?’ asked the Doctor. The man only

shivered so the Doctor shook him. ‘Come on, soldier!

Where’s your commanding officer?’

The soldier shook his head. ‘When the alarm was

raised, the Colonel took a squad into the labs. They never

came out. I think it grows every time it takes one. We have

to leave. We have to leave now!’

And with those words he shook himself free. He ran for

the hatch, and that was the last Donna saw of him.

Something big, loud and hungry lurched into the

corridor.

‘OK, run,’ said the Doctor and Donna did.

Two hours later, the Doctor went missing. He had gone

into the lab on his own and she hadn’t seen him since.

Now Donna ran with the rest of the survivors. As she ran,

she caught the occasional glimpse of the creature they had

released: a tentacled nightmare that wrapped men up and

stung the life out of them before sucking them into itself.

Bullets made no mark, just glopped into its green fleshy

skin. Of the Doctor, she could find nothing. If he was

supposed to be sorting the situation, he wasn’t doing a

very good job.

The lights were destroyed. So was the heating. In the

ruins of an old control room, with the last of the survivors

sealing up the doors for a hopeless last stand, Donna felt

the temperature drop with a purpose. Her breath steamed

out. The monster had destroyed the emergency generator.

Now, if it didn’t kill them, the Antarctic weather would.

She heard a shout.

‘Donna!’

The Doctor? Where?

The creature slammed against the barricade. White-

faced men held fast, yelling out as they soaked up the

blows. The metal door bulged like soap.

‘Doctor?’ Donna looked around the ruined room, stuck

for a way out. ‘Where are you when I need you?’

‘Down here!’

She looked and saw him waggle his fingers at her. He

was lying under a metal grille in an air duct in the torn

floor.

‘Doctor!’

The Doctor grinned. ‘That’s me.’

She sighed with relief. Of course. He had a plan. He

always did. She squatted and yanked the grille open.

Behind her, the door crunched open an inch. A squelchy

tentacle squeezed into the gap. The screaming and firing

began again.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ said the Doctor, eyeing the

fracas. ‘Get in.’

Relieved, Donna lowered herself. ‘Wait a minute,’ she

said.

The Doctor had already inched along the duct. ‘We

don’t have a minute,’ came his muffled voice.

‘What about the Snowcap people? That thing’s gonna

get all of them.’

He shook his head and shrugged. ‘Yeah, I know. We

did everything we could.’

‘That can’t be right.’ She looked at the Doctor. ‘This

ain’t Pompeii. We don’t just leave them. There isn’t some

“we can’t muck about with history” thing.’

He appeared to consider her words. ‘You’re right. Hold

on. I’ve got this machine that has the measure of the

monster. I’ll give it to you.’

She heard the sound of metal being torn apart. ‘Help!

Help us!’ yelled a desperate voice.

‘What machine?’ she asked. ‘We have to hurry!’

The Doctor was as irritatingly cool as ever. ‘A sonic

field generator. Lure the monster in and bam, trapped in a

sound field. Got it right here; in my hand.’

Donna thought for a second. ‘Sounds good. What do

you want me to do?’

‘Just grab it and press the button.’

The Doctor wriggled, eventually pushing her way what

looked to Donna like a small bracelet. ‘That should sort

everything out.’

Donna smiled. ‘I knew you could do it. You always

do.’

He looked coy. ‘Yeah...’

Donna grabbed the bracelet off him, pressed the button,

and everything in her world went dark.

The Society for Endangered Dangerous Species lost its

head. As one, the members panicked. Some were already

fleeing for the exit.

Sebastiene smiled. ‘Settle down,’ he said. ‘Settle down

and I’ll tell you all about it.’

Had any hunters in the room remained level-headed

enough to realise, they would have noticed something odd

about this Doctor standing in front of them. He was as

handsome as they had heard. He watched them with his

famous casual curiosity with the eyes that never missed a

thing. That was all to be expected.

What the more informed hunters might have spotted

was that despite these obvious character traits, there was

something rather insubstantial about this Doctor. Where

was the enthusiasm? Where was the love of life?

‘He’s not the Doctor,’ said Sebastiene, making it

obvious.

‘Aww, you’ve ruined it. OK, I’m not the real Doctor,’

said the Doctor.

‘His name is Baris and he’s the Doctor’s number one

fan.’

The Doctor nodded in confirmation. ‘My name is Baris

and I’m the Doctor’s number one fan.’

The Society members returned to the table and reached

for the refreshments. Fright made them thirsty.

‘I found this one on Proxima,’ said Sebastiene. ‘Baris

has spent most of his life devoted to the Doctor and his

travels, plugged into the Neural Net with a skull-dock,

linked up with other like-minded fanatics, trawling

through the galaxy for news of his presence. They’re

everywhere and so many. However, even among the

Doctor’s enthusiasts, Baris is numero uno.’

The Doctor, or at least the man who looked like the

Doctor, nodded. ‘Who wouldn’t want to be the Doctor?’

he said. ‘Especially when you looked like me.’

Sebastiene smiled indulgently. ‘Yes Baris. Don’t speak

now, not when I’m explaining. Be a good boy and sit.’

Baris turned white and obeyed. ‘Sorry.’

The hunters noticed. Sebastiene had wanted them to.

He started again.

‘Lots of civilisations can create doubles. Any old Tom,

Dick or Harry with a spare robot or plastic surgeon seems

to be able to knock out a Doctor replica. I fancy Planet 1’s

surgical techniques go a little bit further. I can duplicate

any life form exactly, including DNA. Finding someone to

put up with the pain is the hard bit.’

Baris thumped the right side of his chest. ‘It wasn’t fun

having that second heart fitted, I can tell you.’

Sebastiene shrugged. ‘Well, it wasn’t fun for you.’ He

smiled his lovely smile at the memory. ‘Stand up.’

Baris obeyed instantly. A small robotic probe flew into

the room. It looked like a flying metal pen. A light flicked

on at its tip and played over Baris’s body. On the air-

screen, the hunters watched the scan proceed. ‘A perfect

match,’ said Sebastiene.

Commissar Weimark pointed at Baris. ‘What is this

foolishness? Why would you need such an exact

duplicate?’

‘Show them,’ said Sebastiene.

Baris held up a key. ‘This is the key to his TARDIS.

Rumour has it that none can use the key unless he lets

them. Until now.’

‘And where did you get the key?’

‘Never you mind. If he wants his TARDIS back, he’s

going to have to come to Planet 1 and get it. Luckily,

we’ve left a handy transmat open for him to use.’

Lord Percy raised a hesitant arm. ‘I say...’ he

stammered. ‘Call me suspicious, but who’s to say this is

the real... whatdyacallit TARDIS machine thingummy?

Who’s to say we’ll be chasing the real Doctor? I mean,

you could just be having us on, couldn’t you?’

Sebastiene looked almost impressed. ‘Good point, Lord

Percy. Well, for a start, the TARDIS is dimensionally

transcendental. Go and have a look, I don’t mind.’

Baris couldn’t help himself. ‘And that is technology

only the Time Lords ever mastered.’ He seemed terribly

pleased by this, like he had made a point.

‘Although Planet 1 is working on that technology,’ said

Sebastiene and gave Baris a look that made it clear he had

said the wrong thing again. ‘Now we have the TARDIS it

won’t take us long. Oh and there’s something else.’

The Doctor’s air-screen portraits were replaced by a

new image. A dark room: very plain. Inside the room, a

red-haired woman lay asleep on a bed. ‘Tell them, Baris.’

Baris couldn’t help but look smug. ‘I kidnapped his

travelling companion. Say hello to Donna Noble.’

The creature was close but not too close. The Doctor

looked up from the sonic field generator he was

constructing from damaged parts of the air-conditioning

system. Snowcap’s heating had failed twenty minutes

earlier, and the air had turned from furnace to freezing

cold. Although there was roaring, the thawed alien didn’t

seem to be coming his way just yet. He flashed his sonic

screwdriver at some components and was pleased to hear

a low hum kick in. ‘Now we’re cooking with gas,’ he

whispered.

Ice shifted behind him. ‘Donna?’ Somewhere in the

distance another man screamed and died.

The Doctor had not had much of a chance to see the

creature and, with the bit of his brain not building a sonic

field generator, he was running through the various life

forms he had ever encountered to find one to match up

with this beastie. So far, nothing seemed familiar – it

wasn’t a Gappa, Ice Warrior or anything he could recall

that related to cold climates.

‘There’s something not right here,’ he said aloud. ‘It’s

all way too... B-movie.’

He waited for Donna to respond but remembered they

had been separated.

The Doctor felt the air move, like an unfamiliar breeze

had blown in: some flavour that didn’t belong in the

Antarctic. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

A man stepped out of thin air. A very familiar man.

The Doctor stood up. ‘Now that shouldn’t happen,’ he

said. ‘What are you doing here? I mean, what am I doing

there?’

The familiar man smiled and raised a very nasty-

looking bleepy stick. He pointed the stick straight at the

Doctor.

The meeting long over, Sebastiene and Baris watched the

hunters transmat to their zones.

The control room in which they stood did not look like

a control room. For a start, there weren’t any controls.

There weren’t any consoles or computer banks or

monitors either. Instead, huge gold busts of Sebastiene

looked down from gigantic plinths onto a spacious marble

chequerboard floor. The floor was full of robots. These

robots seemed more to be dancing than working. One

would wiggle a perfectly manicured hand in a certain

gesture, and an air-screen popped into existence right in

front of its nose. More hand waving as the robot

completed its task and then the air-screen popped into

nothingness again.

‘I’m still impressed,’ said Baris. ‘No skull-docks, no

memory banks, no machinery. No solid-state matter at all.

Just wave and up comes a menu.’

‘Of course,’ muttered the Supervisor robot as it

stomped by. ‘Intelligent Molecular Technology is the most

advanced technology in the universe.’ The giant creature

towered over the quaking Baris.

Baris squeaked back: ‘As I say: I’m impressed.’

‘Hmph!’ The Supervisor grunted and stomped away.

Sebastiene waved a hand and a bed-sized throne

shimmered into existence. ‘I find I am pleased,’ he

announced. ‘The long years of planning are over. At last a

real game. You know, some of those hunters in that silly

society were almost impressive.’

‘I do suggest full surveillance, my lord,’ said Baris.

‘Permanent. You won’t believe how tricky he can be. Lots

of people have underestimated him, and they always pay

for it.’

Sebastiene yawned and waved up a bunch of grapes.

He plucked fruit from the vine and ate. ‘So how does it

feel, Baris? Was it worth the pain, the long months? Now

you have outwitted him, is he still your hero?’

Baris’s Doctor face flushed with colour. ‘The Doctor

was... smaller than I expected.’

Sebastiene seemed pleased with the response. ‘And so

perishes the first myth of hero worship. Baris, they’re

always smaller. There aren’t any heroes. Only winners.’

Baris nodded, impatient. ‘So, you’re going to give me

the TARDIS. And the companion? When?’

‘In time, Baris, in time. Oh you’re a needy little thing,

aren’t you? You played your part very well. I didn’t think

you had it in you. The Doctor is on his way, his girl is safe

and secure and we have the TARDIS.’

‘Thanks.’ Baris smiled a ‘very pleased with himself’

smile.

‘And now I’m wondering: what’s the point of you?’

Sebastiene dropped the grapes to the floor. He dabbed his

chin with his handkerchief. ‘Oops.’

The smile leaked from Baris’s face. ‘I... I didn’t mean.

Please...’

Sebastiene rose and squeezed the imposter’s shoulder.

A perfectly manicured hand: soft and powdered. ‘A joke.’

Baris swallowed.

‘I do need you, Baris. To monitor the Doctor. You’re

right, of course. I shouldn’t allow myself the luxury of

overconfidence.’

‘Yes, Lord.’

‘Night and day. Don’t take your eyes off him.’

‘We have detected the Doctor,’ said one of the robots.

‘He has arrived in the Oroobian Jungle Zone.’ A large

central air-screen revealed a steaming hot jungle.

‘What a depressing hole,’ said Sebastiene. ‘What sort

of self-respecting hunter would live here?’

‘The zone is matched to—’ a robot began.

‘Oh it doesn’t matter,’ Sebastiene interrupted. He

studied the quiet, dreary jungle. ‘Ding ding,’ he sang

tunelessly. ‘Round One.’

Lord Percy plucked the fat cigar from his mouth and

raised his glass. He was on the verge of sipping when he

stopped and glared. A hot writhing fly had plopped into

the champagne and was furiously trying to swim its way

out. Bally creature must have been tempted by the sweet

aroma. Lord Percy knew only too well what awful

diseases these jungle flies carried. Even robot copies of

jungle flies.

‘Absolute swine!’ he bellowed and hurled the glass

against the nearest tree. ‘Wallah! More champers and on

the double!’

Lord Percy was in a cheerful mood. The Doctor had

appeared in his zone first. The hunt was going to be over

very quickly. ‘Likely to spoil the game for everyone else,’

he said, chuckling. Lord Percy puffed on his cigar again.

‘What a shame.’

Somewhere in the distance his Rhinon Beaters were

thrashing the jungle for the Doctor. The sun was high in

the sky and the zone was boiling hot. Some people

believed Lord Percy found the green forested hills and

tropical sky stimulating, but they were wrong. Only one

thing stimulated Lord Percy, and that was the kill. He

enjoyed being a member of the Society; proud to belong

to such a distinguished club.

Still, a chap had to admire Sebastiene’s handiwork.

Planet 1’s terraformers had nailed the Oroobian landscape,

including the flies. And that awful stink of lemons. Just

like home. Jolly clever.

Even the Levantines seemed real; the braying, moronic

giant beasts of burden on which he rode. Levantines were

like Earth elephants, only stupider. Lord Percy liked

stupid, dumb animals. They never learned. He kicked the

Levantine he was riding. The beast responded with a

satisfactory bleat of pain.

‘Serve you right,’ Lord Percy sniggered.

Loud bangs boomed in the humid air. Lord Percy

grabbed his Levantine’s rubbery ears and stood up in his

howdah. Up country, smoke rose in spirals. That was the

signal. His chaps had cornered his prey. ‘About time too.’

Yes, today was to be a good day.

‘Bearer!’ he bellowed. ‘Forget the champagne. Too

bally slow.’ He whacked the Levantine’s head with his

cane to get it moving. ‘I’ll thrash you later. We’ve got the

blighter!’

The Doctor was sure he had found inventive ways to

escape from more perilous situations than this, but for the

life of him he couldn’t remember any.

He was running along a jungle river pursued by large

stocky aliens with big horns sprouting from their faces

where noses ought to have been. Huge green trees hung

down over the river, close enough to lash him with their

heavy fleshy leaves. The air was humid and squeezed the

breath from his lungs.

As the beast men howled behind him, the Doctor

changed tack and scrambled up a boggy bank. Heavier,

larger creatures were following the rhinoceros men. He

was being hunted.

He forced himself to concentrate. Branches snapped

behind him. Concentrate!

He was the Doctor. Donna was in trouble, and he had

to find her.

A good thought. A useful thought. A thought that kept

coming at him, like waves on a beach.

He was the Doctor. Donna was in trouble, and he had

to find her.

If only he could think. The Doctor tried to fight past the

exhaustion, the panic and the heat to reach into his past.

He couldn’t remember anything. Nothing! Certainly not

travelling to a hot jungle. Where was the TARDIS?

The Doctor stumbled over a fallen tree. He yelled as he

rolled down an incline and into a sunny clearing. He lay in

the bright light, chest heaving. If only he could catch his

breath, the rest would surely come back to him.

He was the Doctor. Donna was in trouble, and he had

to find her.

A man was waiting for him in the clearing. Behind the

man, a big leathery creature that looked like a stupid

elephant raised its trunk and hooted. The man was dressed

in jungle fatigues and had a cigar clenched in his gap-

toothed grinning mouth.

‘I say, hello,’ said the man and raised a large gun. ‘Hold

still now.’

So after all Sebastiene’s fine talk, the Doctor was going

to be taken more easily than a pot-bellied Dimsloth. Lord

Percy was almost disappointed.

‘Wait,’ said the Doctor. ‘Something’s wrong.’

‘We’ll discuss that later, old chap.’ Lord Percy squinted

down the barrel.

The Doctor fell to his knees, blinking in fear.

Lord Percy smiled. He imagined his entrance into

Sebastiene’s gigantic state room and throwing the

Doctor’s lifeless body onto that fancy table. The look on

that arrogant puppy’s face? Priceless.

‘Don’t you worry, old chap, this won’t hurt a bit.

Actually, it probably will. But not for long.’

There was a shimmer of light, wind rustled through the

jungle leaves, and the Doctor faded from view.

Lord Percy blinked. Something cold and scary began

crawling in his mind. In the sunlit clearing, right in front

of his eyes, there was a big hole full of nothing where the

Doctor had once knelt.

Impossibly, his quarry had escaped.

‘Oh, corks,’ said Lord Percy as he felt the warmth of a

transmat beam envelop him. His jungle faded away.

Sebastiene leaped from his throne. All around the

control room, robots were shaking their gorgeous sculpted

heads in disbelief.

‘He disappeared!’ Baris shrieked. He waved his hands

at the air-screen in front of him. The screen shimmered

and popped into nothingness, just as the Doctor had done.

Baris looked guiltily at Sebastiene, as if he had touched

something he shouldn’t.

Sebastiene was too busy realising he was shocked to

notice. The emotion was unfamiliar, but he recognised the

symptoms from long ago. Conflict and surprise triggered

the release of certain chemicals in his augmented body;

which in turn upped his heart and respiratory rates. These

changes were perceived by his conscious self as

excitement and fear. Yes, he was shocked.

The Doctor had disappeared, and Sebastiene did not

know how he had managed it. ‘Transmat,’ Sebastiene

whispered. ‘He used the transmat.’

‘Impossible, my master,’ said the Supervisor robot.

‘There is no access. He couldn’t transmat.’

‘Shut up. I don’t want “he couldn’t transmat”. He

transmatted, you moron. Use your eyes.’ Sebastiene

scratched his perfect chin. He felt his heart slowing, his

breathing returning to a steady rhythm. ‘So, Baris, how

did he do it?’

Baris shrugged. ‘A method we didn’t anticipate.’

‘Really?’ Sebastiene cooed. ‘And here was me,

thinking you were an idiot.’

Baris quivered. ‘An accomplice then?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Perhaps he had help. One of the other hunters? You

know, snatching him away from the opposition to bag the

prize.’

Sebastiene was going to say something rude then

changed his mind. ‘Impossible. They lack the technology.

Anyway, how would they know where he was? They’re

not monitoring anyone. There’s no one in orbit. Is there?’

The Supervisor shook his head.

‘Maybe someone here isn’t who they say they are,’ said

Baris. ‘Someone in the Chateau.’ He cringed, as if

expecting a lightning bolt any second. ‘And you do have

an awful lot of servants.’

Sebastiene turned to his Supervisor and beckoned him

forward. The Supervisor obeyed.

‘Bow down,’ Sebastiene ordered. Again, the Supervisor

obeyed and Sebastiene punched the robot’s head out of its

neck socket. The oversized servant staggered, then

uttered, ‘Thank you, my master,’ before wiggling its head

back on straight and picking up its tricorn hat.

Sebastiene slumped back onto his throne. He had a

thought. ‘Oh, did I lose my temper?’

‘Yes, my master,’ replied the Butler.

‘It’s been so long. One forgets.’ He waved his hand at

the servant. ‘I’ve skinned my knuckles; look. There’s

blood and everything.’ He held the hand up – watching as

the bio-nanos in his bloodstream repaired the broken skin.

In seconds, he was healed.

‘Planet 1 has only one master,’ said Sebastiene. ‘Can

only have one master. All my robots have absolute loyalty

burned into their little brains. To me. Try attacking me if

you don’t believe me. If they have a fault, it’s that the

little darlings can be over-protective to the point of idiocy.

There is absolutely no way that a Planet 1 robot can go

against that fundamental programming.’ He looked Baris

in the eye. ‘So find out what really happened.’

‘Immediately,’ said Baris, summoning up the courage

to add: ‘There is one other thing.’

‘Pray enlighten me.’

‘If the Doctor could transmat once, couldn’t he just do

it again?’

A very nasty thought was growing in Sebastiene’s

mind. A thought so improbable, so monstrous he could

barely contemplate its existence. Baris looked at the floor.

‘He’s breached the IMT security protocols,’ said

Sebastiene. ‘Him or someone helping him. He can access

Planet 1 technology.’

Baris nodded.

Sebastiene thought. He thought some more. He turned

to his Supervisor. ‘Shut down the IMT,’ he said.

The vast control room went quiet. Robots stopped to

look.

‘My master,’ said the Supervisor, ‘Baris is wrong. What

he is suggesting is impossible.’

The Supervisor winced, knowing what Sebastiene

thought of servants who talked back.

‘You heard me,’ Sebastiene insisted. ‘The transmat was

operated; we do all agree on that, do we not? How vulgar

if he were able to use the same trick twice. All molecular

transmissions are to be spiked. Forget digital, we’ll go

analogue.’

If a robot could look sick, the Supervisor was that

robot. ‘My programming requires to me to ask, my master.

I must have confirmation you are sure you want to

neutralise all Intelligent Molecular Technology? Are you

absolutely one hundred per cent sure?’

Sebastiene lay back in his throne and contemplated the

highly decorative ceiling. He was calm, or at least seemed

so. ‘Planet 1 can easily handle the changeover. Just do it.’

The Supervisor nodded to the operator robots. They

opened air-screens and began work. ‘The changeover will

take time, my master. Planet 1 will have to drop to

maintenance mode for...’ he clicked his neck as his brain

sifted through the calculations, ‘... two hours and forty-

seven minutes. There will be minimal robot activity

during that time.’

‘I can live with that.’ Sebastiene continued to examine

the ceiling. ‘Do you good to do some real work for a

change. Activate the underground monorail network and

mobilise robot maintenance crews. Don’t let the standards

slip now. You never know, it might even be fun. Baris?’

Surprised to be addressed, Baris shook himself to

attention. ‘Lord Sebastiene?’

‘Theories?’

Baris bit his lip. ‘I should have guessed something was

up. The Doctor got trapped so easily. It didn’t seem like

him.’ The duplicate gave a sick smile. ‘You think this two-

hour changeover is a good idea? I mean, it sounds like the

Chateau will be vulnerable at that time. What if the Doctor

transmatted here?’

‘He couldn’t. And all my ideas are good.’

‘Yes, but what if he did?’

‘The Doctor didn’t transmat here. Even he couldn’t

bypass those security force-field protocols.’

Baris breathed deeply, gathering his courage together.

‘Yes. But what if he did?’

Sebastiene spoke calmly. ‘Planet 1 would have detected

him. Wouldn’t do for anyone to come here and start

sabotaging my planet. No, my guess is he, or someone,

just pressed shuffle and automatically fast-forwarded him

to the next hunting zone. That would be the most efficient,

easiest way to escape.’

‘He’s probably gone to look for his companion,’ said

Baris. ‘He tends to do that. Perhaps she knows

something.’

Sebastiene felt a surge of panic as he realised that, at

last, someone had got one over on him. The Doctor had

bested him at the first attempt, and they all knew it.

‘Lord Sebastiene?’ asked Baris.

‘The companion is safe. Only I am to know where.’

Sebastiene realised he looked shaken. He glanced up at

one of his statues to remind himself of the correct

expression; the expression that gave nothing away.

‘Leave Donna Noble to me,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, you

have priority in the Chateau.’

‘The robots won’t like that. They don’t like me.’

‘They don’t like anyone, Baris. I programmed them

that way. Live with it.’ He sniffed. ‘I’m going to bed.

Assam tea and caviar in the morning,’ he ordered. ‘Oh,

and wake me up when Lord Percy is prepared. I want a

little word with him.’

Sebastiene waved a hand and transmatted away.

The Butler showed Baris to his bed-chamber. The

Doctor’s double was not unduly surprised to see that the

room was a monument to poor taste. He winced at the vast

bed: a football field of lace, all in a tasteful shade of bright

sunshine yellow. ‘Nice,’ he said.

‘It’s perfect,’ said the Butler. ‘A masterpiece of design

and comfort.’ The robot was genuinely pleased with the

room.

‘You know, I love the way Sebastiene calls you

“robots”,’ said Baris. ‘Seems wrong somehow. You know,

too generic. Not “servitors” or “droids” or anything. Just

“robots”. Some artificial persons would consider that an

insult but it’s good to see you rivet-heads are totally cool

with the word.’

Huge hands enveloped Baris’s neck and lifted him into

the air. Two oversized eyes blazed at him. ‘You think

you’re so smart,’ said the Butler.

Baris struggled but couldn’t shift the steel fingers.

‘What did I say?’

The Butler smelled of pomade and grease. Its

moustache was so big and furry Baris thought it was going

to leap off its face and attack him. The giant hands

squeezed. ‘I don’t like humans, and I especially don’t like

you. My master is the sweetest, most loving genius who

ever existed, and I will do anything to keep you away

from him. There’s something about you, Baris. Something

wrong. I know.’

‘You’re out of your mind!’

‘No I’m not,’ said the Butler. ‘I don’t like you

wandering round the Chateau doing whatever you please.

Until the Doctor is caught and we’re back to normal, I’ll

be watching you. All the time. And when you make your

move, which you will, I’ll be there.’

‘What move? There is no move!’

The Butler threw Baris on to the bed. ‘And when the

time comes, I’m going to squeeze your head until your

eyes pop out. Good night. Sweet dreams.’

And with that, the Butler flounced away.

Baris glared after him, rubbing his sore neck. After a

few minutes, he lay back on the impossibly comfortable

sheets and closed his eyes. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you,

Butler.’

The jungle was gone; now he was in an oven. All right, a

desert but it was as hot as an oven.

The Doctor lay back and breathed deeply. The air tasted

of hot bricks. He heard no sound but the rustle of sand

swirling in a baking wind. Granules stung his face and

hands. Already his body was caked in sweat. Water was

evaporating from him at an alarming rate.

Aching in the heat, he turned over and stood up.

Definitely a desert. The land was flat and broken only by

some distant flat-topped hills. There was nothing here but

red dust.

He wondered why that gap-toothed man had tried to

kill him. Part of him thought he knew the reason but he

just couldn’t remember it. What was going on?

Even the scorching light from the twin suns seemed

heavy. When the Doctor tried to stand, he felt he was

pushing through treacle. He realised it wasn’t going to

take long before he was absolutely exhausted. Even with

the two hearts, this barren place was going to push him to

the limits. He had to find Donna. He had to keep going.

Wearily, he stumbled towards the nearest hill. There

might be some shelter there, some shadow to give him a

moment’s rest and time to come up with a plan. He was

here for a reason, he guessed that. So who was going to

try and kill him next?

Next morning, Baris was back in the control room,

annoying the servants. He was watching the operator

robot overseeing the IMT changeover.

The Supervisor paced the control room behind him,

footsteps ringing on the marble floor, trembling with

helpless rage at Baris’s interference.

‘Why don’t you go and do something useful?’ it

sneered. ‘Like throw yourself off the ramparts.’ It loomed

over Baris’s shoulder.

Baris sagged. ‘What is it with you lot? Talk about

feeling welcome. I’m just doing what Sebastiene ordered

me to. If you’re not going to stop me, get lost.’

‘Oh no, Baris,’ it said. ‘I’m keeping my eye on you.’

‘Change the record. That’s what the Butler said. You

robots are so... mechanical.’

‘Sixty per cent cloud saturation,’ said the operator

robot, interrupting the argument. Baris and the Supervisor

turned to look.

‘And what does that mean?’ asked Baris.

‘Satellites are cloud-seeding the atmosphere with

negative ion-particles...’

‘Don’t tell him!’ snapped the Supervisor.

‘Mr Supervisor,’ said Baris, ‘why don’t you go and do

something less boring instead? I’ll call you if I need you.’

He returned to the operator robot. ‘What’s the score? I

mean: the seed status?’

Conscious that the Supervisor was on the verge of

tremendous violence, the operator robot spoke in a small

voice. ‘Energy transference is no longer reliable. Transmat

effectiveness is already down to thirty per cent. By

morning, it’ll be less than five. We’re six hours away from

changeover.’

‘From now on, no one’s going anywhere,’ said the

Supervisor. ‘Including you.’

Baris ignored the comment. ‘And the Doctor? He was

the last one to use the transmat, wasn’t he?’

The operator robot coughed. ‘Well, no. The master

used it to send... Ow!’ The robot flinched as the

Supervisor slapped its head.

Baris nodded, amused. ‘Of course: the companion.’

‘No,’ said the Supervisor evasively. ‘No, not the

companion. Someone else entirely...’ It looked at Baris;

unable to conceal the lie behind its bland face.

Baris returned an equally bland expression. ‘I’m only

interested in the Doctor. You must have picked him up by

now. Where is he? Tell me, or I’ll tell Sebastiene you—’

The Supervisor pointed a perfectly manicured finger at

the air-screen. ‘There. The Flux Savannah.’

‘The what-a-hoo?’

The Supervisor blinked; consulting its memory bank.

‘The Arcturan. Semblance of Draxyx.’

Baris clapped the Supervisor on its large, muscular

back. ‘Thank you, chaps, splendid effort.’

‘Is that it?’ asked the Supervisor. ‘What are you going

to do now?’

Baris was already halfway out of the door. He turned

back, leaned forward and pinched the Supervisor’s nose.

‘Probably best if you keep that out,’ he smiled.

‘I’ll report this outrage!’ snapped the Supervisor.

‘Baris!’

But Baris had already gone.

Planet 1 changed over.

Across the globe, silos opened, warehouse doors rolled

up and long disused monorail stations flickered into

electric life. Automated airfields raised atmosphere craft

into launch positions. After many decades, factories began

to make real things again.

Clouds spread from the polar zones; clouds seeded with

particles generated in orbiting satellite stations. The

clouds moved quickly through the troposphere, igniting

storms wherever they thickened. Electricity buzzed and

forks of lightning crashed down, pouring energy into

specially constructed reservoirs.

The robots bustled. Millions of them: churned out of

their storage containers and gathering in legions across the

surface of Planet 1. They swarmed above, on and below

ground. Planet 1 had never been so busy, well not for the

sixty-nine years since Sebastiene had last bothered to test

these support functions. The robots worked tirelessly in

the wind and the rain. Like armies of ants, they unblocked

concealed entrances and raised gigantic communication

masts across rain-lashed muddy plains. Beneath the

oceans, robots activated oceanic thermal power units to

drive unthinkably powerful fusion motors. They worked

without pause, and if one robot malfunctioned due to

systems failure, accident or plain old wear and tear,

another two leaped into the breach to take its place. The

work gangs were on a deadline; the clock was ticking.

All this to capture one man. Robots didn’t have

opinions but if they did, they must have hoped he was

worth the effort.

The clock ticked and ran down. Lights winked out into

darkness across the planet, from the poles to the equator.

The robots stopped where they stood. The great roaring

whirl of labour ceased.

Planet 1 rebooted.

Only the hermetic bubbles of the hunting zones were

spared. The hunters were oblivious to the planet’s

business. They did not notice the switchover from

molecular to physical in the command patterns of the

robots designed to look like natives of their respective

planets. These were kept functioning. Oblivious, the

hunters just got on with their lives. And waited.

At last the Doctor had what he needed: peace and quiet.

He wiggled his hand to activate an air-screen. Nothing.

Just the dark of his over-heated, over-designed bedroom.

‘Finally,’ he said.

Apart from anything else he was tired of pretending to

sleep. He tiptoed to the door, opened it and poked his head

out. ‘Let’s go for a wander,’ he said to himself.

‘Now then, now then, boys and girls,’ he said aloud.

His words echoed round the empty halls. Robots stood

where they had been halted, frozen in mid-step, carrying

trays, walking, fixing. Their eyes flickered with dim

internal lights as their brains sat on standby.

Mustn’t get too confident, the Doctor thought.

Sebastiene wouldn’t be stupid enough to turn them all off.

Some will still be operational.

The Doctor looked up at one of the huge marble busts

of Sebastiene stuck up everywhere all over the Chateau.

The pouting bronze face regarded him. The Doctor took

that as a cue and addressed it.

‘So what’s my big plan, clever clogs?’

The face did not move.

‘All right, I’ll tell you. Locate Donna. Although, of

course, you will have made that the hardest thing in the

world. Don’t leave much to chance, do you? In fact, I

wonder if you already know about me being him here and

him being me out there?’

Still, the perfect metal face gave nothing away.

The Doctor shook his head. ‘Nah. If you were that

clever, Sebastiene, old son, I wouldn’t even have got this

far. Time to go on the attack.’ The Doctor bared his teeth

and smiled. ‘Grr.’

Baris had made a fatal mistake. In fact, in the corridor at

Snowcap Base, he had made THE fatal mistake.

The Doctor didn’t blame his double; clearly Baris was

young and naive and not used to having Time Lords at his

mercy. Rather than simply using the beepy stick he was

pointing at the Doctor, Baris had chosen to boast. He

chose to gloat. About The Plan.

Baris wasted precious time bigging up The Plan and of

course stressing his own importance in The Plan’s

inevitable success. And if you did the gloating thing with

the Doctor, you were going to come last.

So the Doctor heard about Sebastiene and the hunters

with their dumb wager. He heard about Planet 1 and its

awesome store of power. He heard how they wanted him

to pursue Donna and the TARDIS.

Funnily enough, after all that, the real surprise to the

Doctor was Baris himself.

The Doctor knew he had fans; he just didn’t know he

had so many. Thousands of them plugged into their skull-

docks, scouring the galaxy for news, rumours, even

sightings. Baris was a fan; in fact, he was generally

considered the biggest, which is why Sebastiene had

tracked him down and made him an offer he couldn’t

refuse. Baris had been offered the chance to become the

Doctor; companion, TARDIS and all.

‘Which is sad,’ the Doctor told Baris. ‘The best way for

you to be like me, would be for you –’ and here he looked

at his duplicate, ‘to be Baris. To be the best Baris Baris

could be.’

The Doctor had guessed right. Beneath the remodelled

face, the eyes of a little boy stared out. A little boy who

spent too long in his bedroom. For the first time, Baris

looked unsure of himself. The beepy stick wavered.

In the distance, the creature sent to Earth by Sebastiene

roared and killed again. The Doctor made his move.

He skidded into the control room. The stalled robots were

staring as if transfixed by what they saw. The room had

filled around them. The chequerboard squares in the floor

had opened and raised up solid skull-dock terminals; all

busy uploading data. The Doctor inspected the new

machines. ‘Virtual Reality interfaces, subatomic memory.’

He picked up a neoprene glove with glowing cables

running from the fingers. Next he picked up a neoprene

cap; a pair of large goggles hanging off it. ‘You are

joking,’ he laughed. ‘What’s this: The Lawnmower Man?’

He stared into the barely lit eyes of an operator robot.

He had started internally to call the robot servants

Freddies, on account of their ridiculous moustaches.

‘I’ve landed in 1985! No more Intelligent Molecular

whatsit then, Seb, old mate. Sorry to mess up your planet.’

The Doctor wondered where the Supervisor might be.

Probably getting special Supervisor programming in a

special Supervisor’s room. Maybe he was getting his

ridiculous moustache trimmed. Funny, the Doctor

expected Sebastiene to keep that particular Freddie active

as a safeguard.

Surely somebody was suspicious. The Doctor couldn’t

believe he had been lucky enough to fool them all, all of

the time. Plucking Baris from Lord Percy’s gun sights had

been almost suicidal. They had even seen him do it. They

just didn’t know they had.

Thankfully, Sebastiene hadn’t bothered to protect the

transmat program; why would he feel the need to? The

transmat had been programmed for a prearranged random

shuffle. The Doctor just pressed the button earlier than

planned. The hard part had been making it look like

someone else had pressed it. Even now, he wasn’t

absolutely certain the command could not be traced back

to him.

More important was getting Sebastiene to turn off the

IMT. Not easy. However, the ruler of Planet 1 was as

suspicious as the Doctor had hoped. Sebastiene would

rather lose the technology than share it.

So now the Doctor had some room. He could work

without getting blown to atoms by a pointy finger. Easy.

Yeah, easy.

‘Well,’ he said to himself, ‘easy apart from finding

Donna, helping Baris escape the galaxy’s best hunters

while at the same time staying undetected by a suspicious

all-powerful loony and his planet of deadly robots. Not

forgetting to zip back to Earth asap to stop a super absorby

creature laying waste to the human race. Nothing to it.’

‘Right, Doctor!’ he bellowed. ‘Oops. Talking to myself.

You see, man like me needs an audience. I need Donna.

Which could be my downfall. What if Sebastiene has

cameras and microphones and motion trackers running as

a back-up to his back-up?’

The Doctor looked around. They could be any size, any

shape...

‘Nah, even he can’t work that fast. Or can he? Never

mind. Prioritise. That’s the name of the game. Doctor...’

He looked at his bare wrist. ‘You have one hour and forty-

two Earth minutes...’

He shoved a Freddie out of the way and sat down at

one of the gleaming new consoles. Luckily, he wasn’t

after anything tricky and the basic systems were up and

running. He picked up a thin cable. ‘Skull-dock? No

thanks. Never liked the idea of sticking needles into my

head. Hat and glove it is.’

Pulling the goggles on, he powered up the computer

terminal. Big shiny command icons floated in front of his

eyes.

‘Ah, how sweet,’ he cooed. ‘But never mind retro. How

do I get Baris out of the next zone? Especially as, more

than likely, this time I’m going to be watched...’

He looked up and stared at the ornate panelled ceiling,

slipping his mind out of gear so a brilliant idea would

creep up on him.

Thirty-eight minutes later it did.

He worked the computer quickly, suppressing a giggle.

‘Get out of that, Sebastiene.’

Now the hard part. The really tricky bit.

He shuddered. Had something moved behind him? He

lifted the goggles and the real world returned.

The Freddies with their glowing eyes seemed to know

what he was up to. Their stillness was unnerving. The

Doctor had the most extraordinary feeling that every time

he went into the Planet 1 VR mode, they all took a step

forward. They were just pretending. Soon they would

have their hands round his neck.

He took a deep breath, removed the cap and glove,

stood up and faced them.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘If you’re going to rush me, don’t play

games, just do it.’

He gave them a stern look. The Freddies didn’t move.

‘So shut up then,’ he said. ‘I’m going to ignore you. I have

enough trouble from real threats; haven’t got time for

imaginary ones.’

He put all the gear back on. Talking helped him

concentrate. He tried to put on his brainy specs. They

banged against the plastic goggles. Tutting, he put the

brainy specs back in his pocket.

‘Think it through, Doctor. If you were Sebastiene,

where would you put Donna so I couldn’t find her?’

He clicked his fingers. ‘It’s not hard to find a map...

The hard part is not looking like you’re finding a map...’

New icons swam into view.

‘Yes!’ yelled the Doctor. ‘Result!’

Baris was in the control room accessing a Planet 1

computer interface terminal. He wasn’t even using the

skull-dock. It was like he wanted to be caught.

The Supervisor was delighted. The robot was watching

on a hidden monitor. It had kept itself out of the way for

just such an opportunity. It watched for five joyous

minutes, savouring each one; then ran to tell its master the

good news.

Sebastiene was using the downtime to practice his

swordplay. He was in his gymnasium hacking at a couple

of old battery-powered robots when the Supervisor rushed

in.

‘Halt,’ Sebastiene ordered and the two robots lowered

their swords. A final precise slash from Sebastiene’s sabre

and one of them was cut in half. Its head and torso

clattered to the ground.

‘Put your top back on,’ Sebastiene told it.

‘Fanks mrr lorrd...’ The robot legs walked away.

Sebastiene waved. When an air-screen did not appear,

he remembered. No IMT. ‘Towel!’ he bellowed. His

Butler stepped out from the shadows and handed him the

warm, scented cloth.

The smirking Supervisor came forward with the news.

Sebastiene wiped himself down and walked to the

gymnasium wall. He pressed a button and the wood

panelling opened to reveal a computer screen. On that

screen: the Doctor’s duplicate sat goggled and gloved,

busy in his virtual world.

The Butler and the Supervisor exchanged looks. Even

without seeing them, Sebastiene could sense their grins.

‘Whatever he’s doing,’ said the Butler. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘Who cares what you like?’ Sebastiene replied. ‘When

did you start feeling entitled to an opinion? All the same,

when did he get so smart with computers?’

The Supervisor snorted in triumph; an unpleasant

sound. ‘He was connected to the mainframe when the

Doctor transmatted. It’s possible...’

‘What’s possible? That he transmatted the Doctor

himself? Never. He might have been a techie in his

previous life but there’s no way Baris could understand

the Planet 1 transmat protocols then obliterate all traces.

They’re complicated – with safeguards and failsafes and

clever... firewall... type security gizmos.’

‘I’ll have him arrested, my master. Some torture will

get the truth...’

‘Are you trying to get yourself disconnected?’

Sebastiene snapped. ‘I’ve given Baris free rein.’

The Supervisor gave up. He bowed. ‘As you wish, my

master.’

Sebastiene looked at Baris waggling his fingers at the

terminal.

‘On the other hand. Wouldn’t hurt to check.’ He looked

to his Butler. ‘Where’s the harm?’

The Doctor had just made it back to bed when Planet 1

completed its reboot. There was a distinctive hum and the

candles by his four-poster flickered. He closed his eyes for

the cameras and pretended to sleep.

The door crashed open. ‘Oi,’ said the Butler. ‘Outside

now.’

‘If I didn’t know better,’ said Sebastiene, ‘I would have

said you were the real Doctor and poor old Baris was out

there being hunted.’

‘Really?’ said the Doctor. Sebastiene’s eyes never

dropped from looking straight at him. ‘Why would you

say that?’

They were taking tea in a huge formal garden. There

was quite a party.

Somehow, Sebastiene had turned night into bright

sunny day. Robot aristocrats in frock-coats and high white

wigs were being terribly witty to each other. Beautiful

snooty women in puffed out low-cut dresses hid their

mouths behind fans as fancy-jacketed bucks tried to

impress. Dogs draped in ludicrous silk bows yapped and

played around the carefully sculpted bushes. A string

quintet played Boccherini in a garish wooden bandstand.

Sebastiene’s face was everywhere: on the dog drapes,

the carefully cut hedges, even the statue in the ornamental

fountain.

‘You should have seen the place before I arrived,’

Sebastiene said. ‘No sense of style.’

At last, he lowered his eyes. He winced and waved a

handkerchief at the Doctor’s jacket and sneakers. ‘You

really must try and join in. I mean, really. I know you’re

the big fan and everything, but clothes, man, clothes.

Have some style. I mean, look at me!’ Sebastiene pointed

to his own pink, gold-braided blouse.

‘I apologise. Let me change immediately,’ the Doctor

leaped from his seat.

‘Oh, sit down, for heaven’s sake. Honestly.’ Sebastiene

snapped his fingers for a servant. ‘More tea and hurry up.

Look, Baris, old chap, I know my robots can be a little

difficult but you’ve done a jolly fine job with this Doctor-

monitoring thing. With all respect, when I found you on

Proxima I thought you were a right charlie.’

The Doctor forced himself to look relaxed as he tried to

comprehend Sebastiene’s mood. Was this all flummery?

Did he know the truth?

Butler Freddie set down a tea service on a silver tray,

tiny in the robot’s huge hands. ‘Shall I be mother?’ it

snarled at the Doctor.

‘Now now, Butler,’ said Sebastiene. ‘You boys play

nice.’

Butler Freddie tried to smile, it really did but that big-

toothed grimace didn’t convince a fly.

‘Yes, my master.’

‘Now go away, like a good boy.’

‘Yes, my master.’

Sebastiene poured milk and tea into the gilt-lined

porcelain cups. ‘Of course there’s no getting around it,’ he

said absently. ‘If one applies logic, you have to be the real

Doctor.’

The Doctor froze.

How would Baris react? Run in screaming terror was

tempting but not necessarily productive. Keep going; keep

going right to the end.

‘Why... why would you say that?’ he asked.

‘Oh, you know,’ said Sebastiene, and using a delicate

pair of tongs dropped two sugar lumps into the cup.

‘Deduction. Someone had to operate the transmat.’ He

smiled and offered the Doctor the cup. ‘It wasn’t me, and

you are the only other organic life form in the Chateau.

Sugar?’

‘No, thank you,’ the Doctor croaked. ‘Too sweet.’

Sebastiene held the cup absolutely still. The Doctor

was aware of the noise of the party around him, the

warmth of the summer’s day, the scent of the bushes.

None of it real. Perhaps Sebastiene could control Time

too. Because Time seemed to have stopped.

‘No such thing,’ said Sebastiene at last. He lowered the

cup. ‘As too sweet, I mean. Shall we hunt?’

He sipped his tea. ‘Armourer!’

A previously unnoticed weaselly robot came bowing

and scraping to the table. He held two wooden boxes.

Sebastiene took one box, opened it and showed off the

ancient pistol within, nestled comfortably as it was in

purest purple velvet. ‘1788 French flintlock with inlaid

silver handle. Crude but looks good.’ He tossed the box

into the Doctor’s lap. The Doctor picked the weapon out

as clumsily as he dared.

Sebastiene watched him. ‘I’ve hunted down every

single worthwhile prize in the universe,’ he said. ‘Lured

them here; given them every chance. Not just animals

either. Or those poor old dumb species that silly Society

prides itself on wiping from the face of the universe. You

try snaring a Dalek, or an Osiran.’

Sebastiene leaned back in his chair, looking into the

distance. ‘Such a long time ago. Chap loses the instincts.

Gets rusty; starts to miss obvious clues.’ He sighed. ‘I’m

too long out of the game.’

He opened the other box and removed the second

pistol. He flung the box away. The Doctor looked up to

see the weapon aimed straight at him. Sebastiene grinned.

‘The only real test would be if I shot you and you

changed shape. You know, like the Time Lords were

supposed to. What were you doing with that computer last

night?’

The Doctor stared into the black cylinder. Indeed the

gun was crude but at this range cruelly effective. ‘I was

trying to find out who had operated the transmat. I thought

the switchover might throw up an anomaly.’

‘Did you really?’

‘I... I... thought that... but I was wrong... maybe I’m too

stupid, but I couldn’t really operate the computer... You

did say I could use the control room. It was just a

thought...’

Sebastiene pulled the trigger. The Doctor flinched.

The gun’s hammer clicked. No blast, no shot. Empty.

Sebastiene whispered, ‘Bang.’

The Doctor again wondered what Baris would do and

decided yes, this time he probably would panic. He

shrieked and dropped his gun. ‘P-please Sebastiene...

look... what can I do... ?’

‘Oh forget it. If there is a traitor, I’ll find him. You want

my real opinion? I think the Doctor’s playing us along,

trying to get me to think he’s stupid.’ Sebastiene tapped

his fine nose. ‘I think there’s a big plan.’ He nodded,

mock-serious.

The Doctor pretended to recover. He clutched his chest

and sat down. He allowed his breathing to slow until he

was able to speak again. ‘That does fit the profile,’ he

said. ‘Perhaps the companion... yes, perhaps the

companion. You know, I could...’

Sebastiene was already shaking his head. ‘No, Baris.

Not the companion. She’s mine.’

‘What... what are you going to do with her?’

Sebastiene dropped the pistol, clapped his hands and

announced, ‘Bored! Let me show you my pride and joy!’

He looked up as if expecting something to happen.

‘Ah, keep forgetting. We’ll do it the old fashioned way.

Shanks’s Pony. We walk!’

They returned to the Chateau. Sebastiene led the Doctor at

great pace through the marble halls. The Butler followed

daintily behind.

‘Where are we going?’ asked the Doctor.

‘Oh you’ll love it,’ Sebastiene replied as he marched to

a pair of large doors. Two robots bowed and opened them.

The Doctor followed, as did the Butler.

‘Not you,’ Sebastiene snarled at his slave, who bowed

ungraciously and scurried off.

‘In here,’ he waved for the Doctor to follow. ‘If

memory serves.’

Clearly memory did serve.

The room was vast, even by the standards of the

Chateau. Dark too. The Doctor could not tell what was

floor, what was wall; in fact, what was anything. The lack

of reference points gave the room a sickly feel, like

standing on a ship in a storm. After the garden he felt

exposed. The only illumination came from tight shafts of

artificial sunlight beamed down from the unseen ceiling

like pencils. Inside each beam of light was a creature,

perfectly still; some human but most not.

The Doctor understood the room’s function. He was

inside a trophy cabinet.

‘Walk with me,’ said Sebastiene.

The Doctor followed but stopped as Sebastiene froze.

‘I forget,’ he said. ‘You’re not the Doctor with all his

broad-minded experience of the universe. Careful, Baris, I

should warn you that this room may well blow your tiny,

sheltered mind.’

He grabbed the Doctor’s hand and led on. Clearly, this

was to be a guided tour.

They passed creatures with scales, with fur, with

feathers, with nothing at all. There was a gigantic

armoured insect as big as an oil tanker which the Doctor

recognised as a formic-acid-spraying Mmtefl Beast. There

was an two-and-a-half-metre-tall cat creature caught in the

act of pouncing.

‘Beserkat Feline from the planet Florinux,’ said

Sebastiene and walked by without stopping. ‘Easy meat.’

They passed a passive Raston Warrior Robot, which the

Doctor was certain was watching him from its smooth

silver face. There was a Wirrn here and a Collective of

Hive Rasps there. There were Omplets and Podropeds,

horned Candellax and bio-mechanical Nominate

Devourers. There were... well, there were too many for the

Doctor to be bothered to count.

‘I fancy I possess the largest collection in the galaxy,’

said Sebastiene after half an hour’s walk. ‘I have every

kind of predator here, from Aords to Zzorg Numerates. If

it’s dangerous, I’ve bagged it.’

‘And you captured them all yourself?’ said the Doctor.

‘Captured and killed. Don’t worry, Baris, they’re all

dead.’

‘Heads on the clubroom wall...’

Suddenly, the Doctor felt sick. How could anyone get

pleasure out of surrounding themselves with corpses,

whatever species they might be?

For once, Sebastiene seemed genuinely excited. ‘I like

lures best. I love it when a target falls into a trap of its

own making; when it can’t help itself. For example, that

Hasarian Renderer –’ Sebastiene pointed to a vicious-

looking, toothy amphibian – ‘I convinced her I was her

mother.’

The Doctor nodded. ‘The only thing the Hasarian is

frightened of... the big queen.’

‘Led her a merry dance. She was cautious, oh yes. Took

me two weeks, up and down the canals of Hasaris, but she

believed me in the end. Got her suckling and BANG!’

Sebastiene clapped his hands and sent a chilling series of

echoes around the endless space. He smiled at the Doctor,

who saw Sebastiene’s teeth gleam in the pale light. ‘You

could say: I’m like a Terran angler fish.’

‘The ones that grow fishing lines out of their heads?’

The Doctor sniffed. ‘Not very pretty though, are they,

your angler fish? Wouldn’t have been my first choice of

metaphor but then again –’

The teeth stopped gleaming. ‘Why, Baris,’ said

Sebastiene. ‘Well done you. You’re developing his talent

for the obnoxious. You’re becoming more like the real

Doctor every day.’

Although he kept a neutral expression, the Doctor

mentally ticked himself off. Stop being clever. You’re not

supposed to be you.

‘Which coincidentally brings me to the reason you’re

in the Trophy Room,’ Sebastiene squeezed the Doctor’s

hand. ‘A room into which you are the first organic being

ever to step. After me, of course.’

‘Oh yes?’

Sebastiene walked to a new exhibit. ‘This specimen

I’m sure you’ll find particularly interesting. Come on, he

won’t bite.’

With a gnawing feeling growing in the pit of his

stomach, the Doctor walked to the trophy. ‘The latest

addition,’ and the Doctor saw a gap-toothed grinning

human. He held a cigar in one still hand, a glass of

champagne in the other. ‘Say hello to Lord Percy.’

The Doctor decided to look appropriately scared again.

‘Sebastiene...’ he mumbled, ‘I...’

‘I thought he might amuse you. Bit of fun. Before we

get down to work.’

‘What do you mean, work?’

There was a chuckle from the dark. Butler Freddie had

got here ahead of them. And if Butler Freddie was

chuckling, this was going to be bad. Sebastiene clapped

his perfect hands again and more shafts of light flicked

down from the impossibly distant roof. This time the

beam illuminated not a specimen but a leather couch.

‘If you please...’ said Sebastiene.

The Doctor backed away. ‘Now look. What’s going

on?’

Butler Freddie giggled again.

‘Come on,’ said Sebastiene. His voice was soft and

purring. He made out that sitting on the couch would be

fun. ‘Play the game.’

‘What do you want from me?’ asked the Doctor. He

wondered whether now would be a good time to run.

Would Baris run? Would he act anything like this? It was

so difficult to pull off a good impersonation on the

strength of one brief meeting. And there was always that

nagging feeling that Sebastiene had seen through him all

the time.

‘This won’t hurt a bit,’ said Sebastiene. ‘But the Doctor

did escape. I’m sure you’re just who you say you are, but

let’s bung you through the scanner to be certain, eh?’

‘I am Baris. You know I am.’

Sebastiene, for once, looked sincere. ‘What you should

know about me, Baris, is that I am incapable of taking

anything at face value.’

Butler Freddie pointed and laughed. ‘He’s scared.’

The Doctor decided to give in. He had to see this

deception through.

‘Actually I’m not scared,’ he snapped. ‘Big-hands.’

Butler Freddie stopped laughing. ‘Get on the scanner or

I throw you on.’

‘Fine.’ The Doctor sauntered under the light beam to

the couch. A smiling Sebastiene watched him all the way.

‘No worries,’ said the Doctor. ‘I don’t mind. In fact, I’d

like to be scanned. Great. I think scanning’s a really good

idea. Let’s confirm my identity. It would make me feel a

lot better, oh yeah. Scan me. Fine. Everybody’s going

scanning. Scanning USA.’

‘Stop babbling and get on,’ snarled Butler Freddie.

Something metal snaked out from the couch and

wrapped itself around his arm. The Doctor jerked back but

the metal strap held firm. ‘Intelligent handcuffs,’ said the

still-smiling Sebastiene. ‘My idea.’

Another strap spewed out from the couch and encircled

the Doctor’s body. More followed. Their strength was

surprising as they lifted him from the ground and lowered

him onto the couch.

A bulky machine descended from the overhead

darkness. As it approached, large stainless-steel

implements extended out from the main body. Electronic

lights flickered. The Doctor fancied he could even hear

the sound of a dentist’s drill.

‘Sebastiene,’ he moaned.

‘Just a little toy to see who’s who,’ said Sebastiene.

‘DNA checker, Psyche-profiler, even a little gizmo that

checks how many hearts. Oh, and when I said it wouldn’t

hurt, that was a little porky pie...’

The machine started to hum.

Two hours later, the Butler lifted the Doctor out of the

chair. The Doctor’s face was white, ashen even, but he

was still conscious. He glared but said nothing.

‘Had to check, you understand?’ said Sebastiene. ‘No

hard feelings?’

Trying to speak, the Doctor realised his mouth had

gone numb. He pushed the Butler off and forced himself

to stand.

Sebastiene blew at the nails on his right hand. He had

been filing them throughout the process. ‘Now let’s get

back to the game. Baris, you stick to keeping an eye on

the Doctor. Don’t let any robot stop you. You’re the only

one I’m sure of. Everything he does, you do. I want you to

become the Doctor.’

Donna made a decision. She was going to get out of

Bracknell.

Quite how she had travelled from an Antarctic Base to

an Exquisite Traveller Hotel on the Reading roundabout

was beyond her. Whatever the explanation, the time had

come to get active.

Donna had been at the hotel for a day now, staying in

Room 218. The weirdest thing was that although she often

heard people talking in the corridor outside, when she

opened her door there was never anyone there; just a

snaky horrible carpet, closed doors and silence. Also,

when she was upstairs she often heard guests downstairs

but whenever she went to look there was never anyone

around.

The lobby was always deserted, except for Sadie, the

smiling, perma-tanned receptionist who was always

behind her desk. Donna was not warming to Sadie, who

was too quick to offer a helping hand.

Too quick because, despite being terribly eager, Sadie

never did any helping. She just came up with excuses. The

public telephones had been taken out just last week;

mobile reception was too weak to get a signal; the wi-fi

was temporarily on the blink.

Donna could never get anywhere. Sadie was

apologetic, but the result was the same. Of course, Donna

could have just walked out, but the Doctor had left her

that note. He had left the note with Sadie who, for one so

useless at everything else, always knew exactly where to

find it. The note was simple and in the Doctor’s

handwriting. Maddeningly, it just said: ‘Wait for me.’

Who was paying for her room? He was.

The restaurant was always empty. Last night’s excuse

was that it was just closing, although Sadie did Donna ‘a

favour’ and managed to fit her in.

The ‘Anchor Suite’, as the restaurant was called, was

deserted, although two young bland waitresses were

clearing up the plates from what seemed to have been a

banquet. There must have been a hundred people in here.

How could they have got out without Donna seeing any of

them?

When she asked, one of the waitresses replied that

Donna had just missed the other guests, who had all ‘gone

for a night out’. Donna gave up and sat and stared at some

photos of ships and tried to figure out what ships had to do

with Bracknell. Her meal was carried to her table. Roast

pork, roast potatoes and veg. Hotel food. Pensioner food.

Last night had been dull. Even for Bracknell the hotel

was dull. Donna had gone down to the Castle Bar (‘try our

delicious cocktails’) but it never opened, not for delicious

cocktails or anything else. It just stood in the dark; quiet

and unmanned. Staff shortages, Sadie said.

At this point, Donna let rip. She gave the smiley cow

an earful. Sadie smiled through the whole rant and could

only apologise. No, the manager was away at the moment.

Sadie was left in charge and she was only the receptionist.

After banging her head on the reception desk, Donna

announced she was going for a walk despite the fact that

the sun had set and the day’s incessant rain had still not

stopped. She asked for a brolly but, of course, the hotel

had lost them all. ‘Normally we’re chock-a-block,’ smiled

Sadie. ‘The day trip, I expect. Not your lucky day is it,

madam?’

Donna looked out at that dark, drizzly night then

decided to go to sleep. Maybe the Doctor would turn up in

the morning.

When she got back to her room, the telly was on the

blink. What a surprise. Without the energy for any more

complaining, she flopped onto the bed.

Trouble was, at eight o’clock in the evening she wasn’t

sleepy. She stared up at the badly artexed white ceiling. At

eight thirty she decided to blame the Doctor for

everything. That sent her to sleep.

Next morning was breakfast in the Anchor Suite.

Alone. Once again, she had just missed the other guests –

they had apparently gone to a nearby shopping village.

Back this evening.

Well, today Donna had had enough. Even Bracknell

was better than this.

She started in her room. Donna squinted through her

smeary window to see what she always saw: rain and

another wing of the hotel just the same as this one. She

could hear a distant rumble of traffic, the source of which

she had not yet been able to locate.

No people.

Donna nodded to her reflection in the glass, watching it

distort as the rain streamed down the outside pane. She

sighed. ‘Time to...’ she said and then stopped talking.

‘Time to hit the road’, she was going to say, then had

the strange thought that someone was listening. Someone

listening on headphones for something important she

might give away. Something creaked in the bathroom.

Maybe he, whoever he was, was in there, listening away,

keeping himself quiet; a human earwig.

She felt her heart beat. She could of course just open

the door. Open the bathroom door and see that there was

no human earwig in there listening to her. Just open it like

she had opened it five minutes ago. No big deal.

Except, she already knew she wasn’t going to open the

door. Not in a million years.

She started to wonder just how real this hotel actually

was. She started to wonder just why she was here. Some

part of her mind, a very important part, was starting to

slip. She had to leave. Leave now.

‘Time to... look at yourself in a window.’ She winced at

how that sounded and ran out of Room 218.

Two minutes later she was hiding behind a fire door,

peering into the lobby. Halfway down the stairs she had

heard a vacuum cleaner start up in the corridor she had

just left. Donna knew that if she went back up, the

corridor would be empty again. Leave. Leave now.

Donna creaked the fire door open. In the lobby,

decrepit ferns sat in pots, bad RnB music played. No

Sadie. Excellent.

Outside, rain was sweeping across the hotel car park.

The wind threw itself at her as she ran outside.

No fanfare, no klaxons. Just a stiff breeze and the

knowledge that to avoid suspicion she had come out

without a coat.

The car park was full of cars. Every space was taken.

There was still no one about.

‘Hello?’ she yelled, surprising herself. Her voice fell

flat in the rain. ‘Hello!’

There had to be someone. She was shocked at how

much she had been hoping.

Donna looked back into the hotel. Nothing. No

movement.

‘Just go,’ she made herself say. Then louder: ‘Just to

the shops! Won’t be long!’

She sniffed and waited for a reply. ‘All right, then!

Here I am, going to the shops!’

The road led up a hill. Not a steep hill, but enough to

hide the traffic she heard moving just on the other side.

That way to civilisation.

Donna started walking.

The road was longer than she had first thought. Must be

the hill. She looked back to see the Exquisite Traveller

sitting snugly in its place, looking like all the other

Exquisite Travellers she had ever seen. Except there was

still no one about. She tried to remember how she had got

here. She couldn’t, simple as that.

Donna started to run. The traffic noise was louder now.

She was nearly there.

She raced up the hill, reached the top and stopped. The

road ended at a T-junction. Straight ahead, a line of trees

blocked a long ploughed wet field, which stretched on to

another line of trees in the distance. There was a right turn

and a left turn but nothing forward. No road signs and,

strangely enough, the traffic sounds were now on either

side.

‘This can’t be right,’ said Donna.

Still the rain dropped. The roads curved out of sight in

both directions.

‘There has to be a way out.’ Her voice was getting

strained.

Donna was aware that wherever she was it wasn’t an

Exquisite Traveller Hotel off a roundabout in Bracknell.

But then again, she had really known that for ages.

‘You don’t beat me,’ she growled. She raised her head

and looked at the sky. A satisfying anger burned through

her. ‘You don’t beat me! Whoever you are! I’ll find a way

out!’

She turned right and marched along the road. There

was an exit and, come hell or high water, Donna was

going to find it.

Night had fallen again when Sadie the receptionist heard a

noise outside. She walked out into the rain to find a

soaked, wide-eyed Donna in the car park, screaming and

begging for the Doctor. She was on all fours and covered

in mud like she had fallen over in a field. Sadie put a coat

around the girl and brought her back inside.

The Savannah was harsh country. Two suns sucked

moisture from the air and baked the ground hard as

diamond. Nothing lived in the Savannah except Suckweed

and Soresox, the first a giant cactus with buried spines

that waited for its once-in-a-hundred-years prey to walk

over it, the second a scaly crocodile that looked like a

rock. Both could survive without water for cosmological

amounts of time.

Indeed, the Savannah was a deadly place, unless of

course you had your mechanised armoured Carapace to

carry you round. The exalted biological remains of the

Arcturan noble called Draxyx wore one such device and

he loved it here.

In fact, the Semblance of Draxyx had himself a great

Carapace, with specially designed six wheel drive,

telescopic eyes that could see in nineteen different

spectrums and a Hurt Limb equipped with a poisonous

sting accurate up to two kilometres.

The Semblance loved the Flux Savannah. He loved its

stark brutal simplicity. When he was hunting, his prey of

choice would be dropped into this environment and he

would chase round after it, wearing it down until finally it

could run no more. Sometimes the prey would last for

days; slogging on in agony, refusing to give up. The

Semblance would perch in a gully or on a flat hilltop and

suck on his moisture straw; telescopic eyes zoomed in on

his quarry’s plight.

Only when the light of resistance had totally gone out

would the Semblance take pity on the poor creature and

move in for the coup de grâce.

That was the moment the Semblance relished – when

the quarry knew its only relief was death. When he stung

his prey, it loved him for it.

The Semblance was very excited about the Doctor.

Although the Time Lord was of course known on

Arcturus, there was very little hard information. What was

not in doubt was that he was a very dangerous animal. The

Semblance knew to be wary.

Once he had detected the Doctor’s DNA signature, the

Semblance projected his likely path. The Carapace

computer flagged up a suitable killing ground: a shadowed

gully between two rocky mesas; one of the few possible

shelters in the blindingly bright desert. The Semblance

motored to the gully and used his Excavator Limbs to dig

a hole. He then sat in the hole, covered his Carapace in

dust and waited.

In case he really was as dangerous as the legends

claimed, the plan was to hit the Doctor with a paralysing

sting and then see what happened. Not so much fun but

hopefully there could still be some chasing and wearing

down and despair. The Semblance switched his Carapace

to stealth mode. The quarry was heading for the shadowy

gully, right on schedule.

When the Doctor appeared in visual range and

appeared to be nothing but a ragged, exhausted human in

a torn suit white with dust, the Semblance was

disappointed. Sebastiene’s big talk had unsettled the

Society, even him. What a letdown. Suddenly bored, the

Semblance decided to kill his prey immediately.

The Doctor stumbled towards the trap. The Semblance

armed his Hurt Limb. Poison hissed through its fleximetal

joints. A thought command unhooded the sting. As the

Semblance giggled, the Carapace wheels began to turn in

the dust.

And stuck there.

An alarm thought triggered in the Semblance’s brain.

His Carapace wouldn’t move.

The Doctor was closing; there wasn’t much time.

Snarling, the Semblance revved harder. What was

happening?

Something crunched into the wheels. A Suckweed!

The Semblance cursed. Of all the bad luck! He had

been caught in the same trap he had set for the Doctor. But

how could the weed have tracked him? The Semblance

used screening sprays to stay undetectable.

Something else landed with a thump on the windscreen

bubble. Cold, crystal eyes gazed in. Baked jaws opened to

reveal a mass of stone teeth. The Semblance shivered in

fear. A Soresox!

This couldn’t be happening. A Suckweed and a Soresox

together! Unheard of.

The Semblance, sweaty in his pickling juices, activated

the Carapace charger. A quick powerful burst should do

the trick.

A blast of electricity shook the Soresox but did not

dislodge the beast. Mineral drool dropped onto the

windscreen bubble from a wide, wide smile. At the edge

of his perception, the Semblance saw the Doctor walk

right past and through the gully. They were all so well

camouflaged he hadn’t noticed a thing.

The next thought that came to the Arcturan was that

both the Suckweed and the Soresox were actually

Sebastiene’s robots but as soon as he remembered that, he

had other things to worry about.

‘Enlighten me,’ said Sebastiene.

‘The Doctor tricked the robots,’ the Supervisor replied.

It looked about to wet itself. The robot quivered; towering

over the seated Sebastiene. ‘The on-site robots. He

activated their Priority Override command.’

‘The robots cannot be reprogrammed.’ Sebastiene

spoke in a monotone, stating a fact. He returned to his

lunch; a vast lunch covering a whole banqueting table, all

to himself.

‘He didn’t need to reprogram. The Suckweed and

Soresox robots received input identifying the Arcturan as

a Class 1 threat.’

Sebastiene spat out half a roasted quail. ‘Class 1? Me?

You mean, they thought the Semblance was in the process

of attacking me? Despite all the evidence of their senses?

That’s...’ he searched for the word and found one he didn’t

want to say, ‘brilliant!’

‘They had to attack to protect you; couldn’t help

themselves. In fact, they couldn’t do anything else.’

‘And just how could the Doctor make this happen?’

The Supervisor slumped. ‘Assuming it isn’t Baris...’

‘Which it isn’t...’

‘In theory, activating the Priority Override would not

be hard. He would just need to know the robot

transmission codes. Now we’re no longer using IMT, all

he had to do was look them up on a database. Assuming

he had access to a terminal, of course.’

Sebastiene stood up, wiped his chin, and overturned the

banqueting table. He spent a satisfying few minutes

hurling food around. Silver plates rattled on the marble

floor. The Supervisor stood still as his master raged.

At last, Sebastiene was calm again. He looked at the

Supervisor. ‘Get out of my sight. Find out.’

The Supervisor turned and trotted from the room,

grateful still to be functioning.

The cold ruins stank of death. The shell hole was damp;

full of bent iron and thick, grey slush. Overhead he could

see a dark sky smothered by smoke. The only light came

from the occasional orange flare falling from the clouds.

Gunfire sounded tinny in the freezing fog. There was a

war on.

The Doctor, or rather Baris who believed himself to be

the Doctor, shuffled under a fallen concrete slab and

shivered.

Any normal man would have been terrified at the

prospect of being dumped in the war-torn wreckage of an

alien city in a punishing winter, with no food, weaponry or

means of survival. Luckily, thought Baris, he was the

Doctor and he was no normal man. He was the Doctor,

and he had to find Donna.

Cold though. His teeth chattered and his hearts pumped

to keep the blood supply moving. Would have been handy

to have a little bit more clothing than an old blazer,

plimsolls and a skinny tie. Even the sonic screwdriver,

with which he obviously could have warmed up snow or

something, was missing. He must have dropped it

somewhere.

Stone chinked over the lip of the crater. Baris stayed

still, pressing himself into the wet shadows. He looked up

to see the skeleton of a burned-out factory etched black in

light from a flare. Figures were moving in front of it,

breath streaming from their mouths. They were hunched

and bulky in ragged furs. Even from below, Baris could

sense their hopelessness, their hunger. One whispered to

another, a starved sound, thin and wispy. He didn’t

recognise the language but it sounded harsh and merciless.

He didn’t want to be spotted by these people. The figures

moved slowly but carefully, long rifles ready, used to

these ruins.

Baris had the strangest thought that if they found him,

they would eat him. Abruptly, they were gone.

He pressed his fingers into the snowy, frozen rubble.

Sweat turned to ice on his forehead. Baris forced himself

to take a deep breath. He needed to shake off this strange

paralysis that afflicted him. He had to work out who was

sending him to these strange, deadly places. And why.

‘Come on, Doctor,’ he said to himself. ‘You’re better

than this.’

And overriding everything, he had to find Donna.

Commissar Weimark had almost forgotten he wasn’t at

home. He was so busy interrogating promising traitors

that he hardly knew where the time went. As for

Sebastiene and his wager, that all seemed a long time ago.

When the radio crackled, Weimark assumed the

message was from his superiors; those cowards bunkered

behind the lines at headquarters. Only Sebastiene’s voice

caused him to pause in his work.

Weimark straightened up from the reorientation chair.

His client slumped. That man could wait. He had Society

work.

Out of the bunker, Weimark sniffed and smelled cordite

and ozone. The night air was cold and crisp. Indeed now

he remembered, the planetary re-creation was amazing.

‘I need my heavy weapons pack, dust coat and boots,’

he ordered. His number two, Sub-Commissar Franz,

clicked his heels and scampered back inside.

Rather: a robotic copy of his number two. Never be

fooled, thought Weimark.

A missile whistled over the cityscape like a comet.

Commissar Weimark read nothing into the phenomenon.

He did not believe in omens.

‘The Doctor, then,’ said Franz upon his return.

‘Indeed,’ Weimark replied. He wondered how much of

a memory Sebastiene had imprinted into this duplicate. ‘I

think we are not the first. I have been here a long time.

The Doctor must have bettered at least one.’

‘Should be a challenge.’

Weimark did not like talking to this robot. It was one

thing to use them as servants, another to hear it address

one with such familiarity.

‘Let us not confuse the hunt with sport,’ he told the

robot. ‘Sebastiene expects us to lose.’

‘Sebastiene is indeed mighty.’ Franz’s fat face was

expressionless. He handed Weimark his equipment.

‘The Doctor isn’t exactly a novice either,’ Weimark

snapped. ‘He’ll be ready for me.’

‘You know him?’

‘By reputation only. He once landed on our planet.

Damn near ended the war in half an hour. No one could

work out how he had reprogrammed our battle computers

to shut themselves down like that. He had half the Eastern

Mark army after him and still came through. Oh, he’s

good.’

The Commissar hauled his tight black boots and dust

coat over his body armour. The regular troops in

Beriagrad received no such luxuries, only the Special

Executive. The Blood Hounds.

Finally, Franz passed Weimark his weapons kit. The

Commissar stripped and assembled his 8.25-millimetre

sniper rifle. The case contained an impressive array of

ammunition, steel tipped to high explosive; also an

infrared heat scanner and HUD night sight. Old friends.

Weimark recalled his greatest triumph: the eighteen-

week hunt for the Western Mark’s Chief Sniper. In the

ruins of Beriagrad, sniping was the most effective method

of waging war. The craft became an art, almost a religion,

calling on the best of men. Snipers became legends, and

Weimark was the greatest of them all. He had never

missed. The Doctor would be the greatest triumph of his

career.

‘You know the reason for my success, Franz robot?’ he

asked.

‘You are prepared for every eventuality, Commissar,’

Franz replied, grinning graciously.

Weimark shoved an ammunition clip into his spare

pistol and fired a high-explosive bullet into the robot’s

brain. There was a loud crump and Franz staggered back,

circuits fizzing and sparking in what was left of its head.

At last, the robot realised it was dead and fell into the

snow.

‘I work alone,’ said the Commissar, blowing the smoke

from the gun and sliding it into its concealed holster.

The hunter went to find the Doctor, not even bothering

to acknowledge the starved soldiers already moving in on

the robot’s body; ready to strip it to cogs and wires.

Night in the Chateau was a lonely, unnerving experience.

The hollow rooms echoed with the slightest noise. The

shadowy statues of its ruler glared from all sides.

Footsteps banged and shuffled and echoed like noisy

breezes. Not that the Butler cared; he was too angry for

that.

The hulking robot entered the moonlit control room.

Unfamiliar green and red function lights gleamed on the

consoles. The Butler didn’t like the lights, or the consoles.

The back-up technology units were all over the Chateau

and that put him in a bad mood. They made the place look

messy.

‘What do you want?’ he snapped at the Supervisor, who

was wired into a skull-dock terminal.

The Supervisor pointed to a computer array. The Butler

produced his own elegant skull-dock cable and plugged

in. Digits and colours flashed past his eyes at vast speed.

‘Do you know how many systems are online at any one

time on Planet 1?’ said the Supervisor. ‘An almost infinite

number.’

‘And? I do have duties to perform...’

‘And with the changeover, virtually impossible to

check.’

‘Yes yes...’

‘He knew that. Virtually impossible. But it’s not

completely impossible. I’ve had two million robots

working on it down in South Continent. Over ten thousand

prime units have burned out in the process.’

‘Don’t bore me with technical details,’ snapped the

Butler. ‘You know I’m on call. What are you talking

about?’

‘A manual operator trace: who used which air-screen

when.’

The Butler’s mood was improving. It could see where

this was leading. ‘Go on...’

‘I’ve back-checked every air-screen operation on

Planet 1 during the time period the Doctor transmatted out

of the Oroobian Jungle Zone. That command came from

an air-screen in this control room. And guess who

activated that air-screen?’

If a robot could wet itself, it would have looked

something like how the Butler was looking now. ‘You’re

kidding?’ it squealed.

‘One hundred per cent sure.’

‘Oh goody,’ said the Butler. They looked at each other.

‘Hurr hurr,’ chuckled the Supervisor.

‘Hurr hurr hurr,’ chuckled the Butler.

‘Hurr hurr hurr hurr,’ they chuckled together.

‘What does a fellow have to do to get some sleep round

here?’ demanded the Doctor.

Butler Freddie scooped him out of bed and tucked him

under an arm.

Upside down, the Doctor smiled. ‘You look happy.

Your lottery number come up?’

Butler Freddie licked its lips. ‘Mm,’ it said. It stomped

out of the bedroom.

As the Doctor was carried along various wood-panelled

corridors and through a multitude of doors, he presumed

the game was up. They must have discovered one of the

million loopholes in his disguise. He was unmasked. Had

to be. Expected, of course, but not so soon. The Doctor

sagged in the robots hands. No point in fighting what he

couldn’t do anything about. Better to use this time to

think.

At last, they reached a room. The Trophy Room. By

now, the Doctor was hanging upside down in Butler

Freddie’s hands. A spotlight blinked on.

‘Morning, Baris,’ came Sebastiene’s cheerful voice.

‘Morning!’ yelled the Doctor, equally cheerful. ‘Excuse

me for not shaking hands. I’m upside down.’

‘Not to worry,’ said Sebastiene. ‘My Supervisor says he

has some news.’

‘How lovely for him. Love a bit of news, me.’

The Doctor was turned right way up and thrown onto

the nastily familiar leather couch. A second spotlight

flicked on right into his face. ‘Ooh, now I’m thinking:

interrogation.’ He raised his hands over his eyes to see

who was in here. ‘Would I be right?’

‘You would,’ came the flat tones of Supervisor Freddie

from the gloom. ‘You would indeed.’

The Doctor heard a horrible flat noise, like a series of

snuffles. ‘Robots laughing,’ he said. ‘Not nice.’

‘You’re a dead man, Baris,’ said Supervisor Freddie.

‘Or whoever you are.’

The Doctor tried to sit up but the flexible cables fired

out from the couch and wrapped themselves around him.

‘Sebastiene,’ he said, ‘we’ve been here, done this.’

Sebastiene walked to the couch. He was wearing a very

fetching velvet smoking jacket and sipping at a small cup

of coffee. ‘Apparently not. My Supervisor believes he has

incontrovertible evidence that you were up to something

naughty in the control room.’

The Doctor tried to think. What had they had found

out? Some discoveries would be worse than others.

Supervisor Freddie loomed into view. Its eyes were big

and bulging. It sang: ‘You operated the transmat... you

operated the transmat...’

OK, the Doctor had to admit, that was worse.

The Supervisor took its time. It intended to draw the

demonstration out. A 3-D holograph projector took

Sebastiene through a very long-winded graphics sequence

consisting mainly of how brilliant Supervisor Freddie had

been in isolating air-screen operations. The Doctor

watched along with the Butler, who was trying to hide its

smirk.

Two minutes in, Sebastiene snapped. ‘Can we get to the

point?’

‘Yes, my master, of course,’ the Supervisor bowed and

put the display into fast-motion.

The holograph fired its way through a coloured light

show of fast-moving lines, flashing every time it hit a

network point. The whole effect was of a digital bullet, the

Supervisor’s detection protocol, streaking along IMT

networking nodes towards its inevitable destination. The

bullet fired through zones, areas, districts, buildings,

rooms into finally into an outline of the Chateau.

‘As you can see,’ said Supervisor Freddie, ‘our tracer

narrows down the operation to the Chateau control room.’

The robot looked at the Doctor. It no longer bothered to

conceal its triumph. ‘The numbers count down to one very

interesting coordinate. And a very interesting operator.

Because at last we come to the air-screen used to save the

Doctor from Lord Percy.’

Despite the cool temperature in the Trophy Room, the

Doctor was uncomfortably hot. He lay back, thinking. The

Supervisor looked at its master for its final revelation. The

digital bullet stopped and flashed red. It had reached its

destination.

‘And now, after days of fantastic effort from a whole

continental mass of dedicated robots, the results are in.

This evidence cannot be challenged. After a long and

painful series of calculations, the air-screen registration is

revealed to be: HGcccc2930-5890.276. Operated...’ It

paused for effect. ‘By Baris.’

The holograph froze, leaving the air-screen number

hanging in the air. The Supervisor, as if exhausted by its

efforts, dropped its head. It waited for its reward.

The Trophy Room was silent. The Supervisor glanced

up, wondering how long before they could get round to

harming the Doctor.

The Butler coughed; the sound echoing round the vast

empty space.

‘You said: HGcccc2930-5890.276?’ asked Sebastiene.

‘Yes, my master. There can be no possible room for

error.’

‘Well,’ Sebastiene continued. ‘That’s not the number on

the screen.’

Suddenly, the Supervisor felt very, very sick. It could

see what was coming. What it had walked into.

‘The number up there is: HGcccc2930-5890.275. And

according to your databanks, that particular air-screen was

operated by you.’

‘I know how he did it, my master, he programmed a

trojan to reset the registration if detected... if you would

allow me to...’

‘Enough!’ Sebastiene’s voice rang round the Trophy

Room. The Supervisor fell silent.

The Supervisor sneaked a look at the Butler but its so-

called friend would not meet its gaze. The Doctor was the

picture of innocence, wrapped in his cables on the couch.

How the Supervisor wanted to pull his arms out. If only it

had checked the program for booby traps; a simple

operation, easily done. In its rush to tell its master, the

Supervisor had failed to keep its discovery safe. And now

it was going to pay.

Sebastiene was grinning like a wolf. ‘Release Baris.’

The metal cables slid away and the man the Supervisor

absolutely knew to be the Doctor sat up.

‘Supervisor, get on the couch,’ said Sebastiene, not

raising his voice.

‘C’est la vie,’ said the Doctor. He almost looked sorry.

Knowing he was doomed, the Supervisor obeyed. The

Butler was watching him now, worried, but not helping.

Not saying anything to stop what must now happen.

The automatic restrainers wound themselves round the

robot and pinned it to the couch. It looked up and saw the

torture machine dropping down. The implements extended

out. The Supervisor knew this machine and understood it

was going to enjoy its work.

Sebastiene coughed, hiding a smile. ‘I’ve always

wanted to say this.’ He looked sternly at the Supervisor.

‘You know the price of failure,’ and he turned theatrically

away.

‘I love you, master,’ said the Supervisor, and meant it.

It really did.

A sound like a dentist’s drill started up. The

interrogation machine went to work.

Sebastiene put his arm round the Doctor and led him out

of the Trophy Room. He shouted over the drill: ‘Let’s get

away from all this racket!’

Once outside, the Doctor allowed some of his pent-up

tension to release itself as anger. ‘Listen, Sebastiene, that

thing scared the life out of me. I’m only trying to help,

and you keep... you keep... my God, what if it had...’

Sebastiene eyed him with amusement. ‘Now now,

Baris. My Supervisor was only doing its job. You have to

expect this kind of thing until we find out what the Doctor

is really up to. I mistrust everybody!’ He laughed, as if

this final sentence was the punch-line of some terrific

joke. ‘Breakfast!’

‘A man as clever as the Doctor has to have some big

overarching plan. I’m absolutely convinced. I mean, he’s

got another ten hunting zones to get through. How is he

going to do that? Make up escape routes one at a time?

Never do it; not even him. There’s a plan. A brilliant plan

and you know, Baris, I’m certain that I’m on the brink of

understanding it.’

Sebastiene looked up from his plate as the pair again

breakfasted in the garden.

‘I feel that the answer is on the tip of my tongue.’

Sebastiene scooped out a grapefruit and gobbled down its

pulpy contents.

‘You mean the answer’s staring you in the face?’ asked

the Doctor, staring Sebastiene in the face.

Sebastiene nodded. ‘I don’t know how he got to the

Supervisor, but he did.’

The Doctor was playing with his food, trying to catch

Sebastiene’s mood. He was still unsure whether the ruler

of Planet 1 was really a psychopathic dandy with

terrifying mood swings, or just looked like one.

‘Why would the Supervisor drop himself in the soup

like that? He seemed convinced I had transmatted the

Doctor.’

Sebastiene pinged his spoon on his bowl. ‘Oh, Baris,

you really are a poor naive fool. The Doctor wants me to

know he got to the Supervisor, one of my oldest and most

trusted servants.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘To rattle me, of course. To make me think he is

everywhere. But I’ve got his measure, oh yes. I’ve got a

little scheme of my own to find out what this big plan

really is. Can’t fail. No, I’m not going to tell you what it

is, Baris. All you need to know is that I shall be going

away for a while. Oh, and I’ve voided your access codes

for the computer network. Don’t worry; my Butler will

log you in whenever you need it. He’ll be keeping an eye

on you. Oh yes, a very careful eye...’

‘Fine,’ the Doctor replied. He pushed his plate away,

not hungry.

Sebastiene dabbed his chin with a napkin. ‘Just to

eliminate you from further suspicion, you understand?

The Doctor is in the Beriagrad Zone with Commissar

Weimark, a most efficient and deadly hunter. Let’s see

him get out of this one.’

Snow began to fall as the weak sun rose over the ruined

city. Thick clouds blotted out the red fingers of light that

had temporarily brought some cheer to this barren ruin.

Baris was running for his life. Again.

He slipped on hidden ice just as a decaying concrete

post by his head burst into fragments. The hunter had

found him once more.

Baris whimpered, brushing shards of concrete from his

face.

This was the second shot. The first had turned his coat

into rags. Baris had been saved only by the sheer amount

of clothing he had wrapped around himself. His body was

so bulky he looked twice his real size, and the bullet had

punctured a non-existent tummy.

He had been in this godforsaken city for two days

before the assassin tracked him down. Two days of

sleeping in frozen shell holes with rats and rubble for

company. All the water was frozen and he had no means

to melt it. He was dying of thirst and knew that even with

a Time Lord’s metabolism he would not last more than

another day.

‘Dammit!’ he yelled and punched the snow. ‘Donna

needs me!’

Breath held, waiting for the next shot from the killer he

couldn’t see, Baris forced himself to get up and run.

Commissar Weimark looked up from his telescopic sight.

Without hurry, he ejected the spent cartridge. For a second

he thought he had hit the Time Lord but no. The figure

crawled into another scar in the city’s ragged foundations.

Weimark cursed. He had been hoping for a clean kill. His

prey’s apparent incompetence was deceptive.

Weimark had picked up the Time Lord’s trail within

hours of starting to look. This ruined city was his helper,

every burned-out building and crater as familiar to him as

the seams in his cold, slack face.

That morning he had been certain. He was not fooled

by a mound of snow and some clumsy rubble. A human

shape twitched in its sleep. Weimark could have walked

up to the Doctor and cut his throat. The idea was tempting,

but somehow Weimark doubted he would succeed that

easily. The Doctor’s reputation preceded him and there

was bound to be a trap; which was why the Commissar

decided to shoot him from long range instead, only to end

up missing. That was what you got for being cautious.

Now his pride was at stake. Commissar Weimark

shouldered his sniper rifle and began to hunt properly.

Barely had Butler Freddie logged him onto the Planet 1

network, barely had the Doctor pulled on his VR gloves

and goggles, when he realised the game was over. Baris

was about to die.

On camera, the Doctor’s hapless double slithered down

a precarious-looking slope into a crater and attempted to

cover himself in snow. Even a child could have found

him.

The Doctor stabbed one of the whirling holographic

icons, and the camera angle changed to the hunter’s point

of view. Commissar Weimark was a dark wraith, flitting

with expert grace over rubble and ruin. He reached the top

of the crater and settled like a shadow to watch Baris’s

panicked attempt to hide.

‘Ah,’ said the Doctor. He watched Weimark watch

Baris. Butler Freddie watched him.

After all his clever work to get rid of the Supervisor,

basically there was no obvious way of rescuing Baris

without being unmasked.

Strike that, there was just no way.

Weimark silently drew the rifle from his back.

The Doctor looked at the floating menu screen for

inspiration. The icons shone in coloured letters:

COMMAND,

OPERATIONS,

TRANSPORT,

SECURITY. Which controls were unsecured? Which

could he get to?

He had no time at all.

Butler Freddie was transfixed by the image on the

screen. ‘Nice to be in at the death, eh, Baris?’

Weimark produced a high-explosive rocket grenade,

which he fitted to the end of his rifle. He was going to

annihilate the entire crater.

For a second, the Doctor wondered why he should

bother. After all, Baris had set him up for this stupid

safari. Wasn’t this poetic justice? There was no earthly

reason to save this ridiculous duplicate.

‘Que sera sera,’ said the Doctor and touched a virtual

command icon. A klaxon screamed out an alarm. The

lights turned red. The robots stopped and stared.

‘Sabotage!’ yelled Butler Freddie. ‘Get away from

there!’

‘Me?’ the Doctor replied and pressed another icon. And

another six icons.

Butler Freddie literally threw him out of his chair. The

gloves and goggles snapped off and flew across the room.

Security robots – cruel-looking noblemen with pencil

moustaches and white stockings – leaped on top of the

Doctor, pinning him to the marble floor.

‘What have you done?’ screamed Butler Freddie.

‘What, little old me?’ said the Doctor from under the

pile of bodies. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure I know myself.’

No good. He was completely spent. Baris came to that

realisation as he saw the glint of the hunter’s rifle. His

pursuer was hiding in the rubble, aiming at him from the

top of the crater. Baris gave up. Let the hunter fire; let him

kill. There was no more.

He was the Doctor, and he had to rescue Donna.

Baris twitched. He jumped up. Stones moved and his

legs slipped out from beneath him. For a moment he was

weightless and then he was tumbling.

In a way he was lucky. Baris dropped eight metres and

fell shoulder first into a huge pool of ice, which shattered

like a bomb. He dropped under.

The water was deep and unbelievably cold. Freezing

mush forced its way down his throat and numbed him

completely. Baris rolled over, clenched in a fist of ice.

Cold pressed his head like a band of metal.

Death here would be welcome; an end to the

exhaustion of the chase.

He was the Doctor, and he had to rescue Donna.

No, Baris thought. I can’t. Not any more. Let me

drown. Stars exploded in his eyes. He sensed his hands

were gripping an iron railing but he felt nothing.

He was the Doctor, and he had to rescue Donna.

A black cloud spread through his body – suffocation. If

he let go of the railing he would drift up into the hunter’s

gun site. He was finished whatever he did.

The water moved beneath him. Baris opened his

numbed eyes and saw a bright, artificial light. Was this

death? The light was moving... until he realised the light

was staying still and he was being pulled; down the plug

hole, down the drain...

Commissar Weimark stood up. The Doctor had to be dead.

Except... that water-filled crater was probably deep

enough to stay concealed. If a man could hold his breath;

if he could survive the cold...

Weimark knew from experience just how much

punishment a body could take. The Doctor could still be

alive. Therefore he was.

Weimark began to rush down the side of the crater. For

some reason, the water was churning and seemed to be

draining away.

He saw a blurred yellow light in the pool. Instinctively,

Weimark raised his rifle and fired a high-explosive shell

right at it.

The blast was far more powerful than even he

expected. Water, concrete, metal and stone erupted in a

flash and boom of incredible power. He had hit

something, something explosive.

Weimark allowed himself a shout of triumph then

looked up. Debris and water from the huge blast dropped

like hail around him. The ground under his feet shifted

and, as Baris had before, Weimark skidded. The crater was

falling in. He cursed and tried to stay upright. Before he

could regain his balance, the Commissar was buried

beneath a cascade of rubble.

The security robots pinned the Doctor to a wall.

Butler Freddie glared. ‘What did you do?’

‘Your wig’s got all mussed,’ the Doctor replied. ‘You

should powder it more.’

‘Stop this waffle!’

The klaxons ceased. The Control Room was now

unnaturally quiet. Skull-docked Freddies twitched

frantically.

‘Monorail Station Red 552, Beriagrad Zone.

Activated.’

Butler Freddie checked a console. ‘You uncloaked a

supply monorail junction access nodal...’

‘If you mean I opened a door to a hidden train station,

you should just say so...’ the Doctor looked irritated. ‘I

hate technobabble.’

Butler Freddie rubbed his moustache. ‘The Doctor. You

saved him.’

‘No I didn’t!’

‘I saw you!’ The robot was so angry that little sparks of

electricity were spitting from its mouth. ‘You helped the

Doctor escape! Don’t deny it!’

The Doctor grinned. ‘Oh. All right then. But look, I did

it for you just as much as for me.’

‘In what way for me?’

The Doctor tapped his nose. ‘You’ll have to take my

word for it. Top secret. You need Security Clearance

Alpha; yellow, red and ultra-violet level... For your eyes

only. And that. Just go about your business.’ He began to

shout. ‘Move along! There’s nothing to see!’

Butler Freddie thought this through. He nodded,

coming to a decision, and beckoned the two security

Freddies. ‘He’s lying. Kill him.’

The robots pulled jewel-studded revolvers from ornate

belts. They smiled at the Doctor, who raised a finger. ‘Ah,

now wait just a cotton-picking minute. You know the

orders. Remember the Supervisor! You can’t kill me...’ his

voice trailed off and he shifted his eyes to Butler Freddie.

‘Can you?’

Butler Freddie was positively smiling. ‘Actually, yes I

can. Bye-bye.’

The security robots stepped forward.

‘Err,’ said the Doctor.

The security robots aimed their guns.

‘One word,’ said the Doctor to the robots in front of

him. ‘Sebastiene.’

The robotic arms holding the guns twitched.

‘Oh he’s bluffing,’ said Butler Freddie. ‘Kill him.’

There was a pause. Everyone was looking at the

Doctor.

Who started to laugh.

Butler Freddie flinched as the laughter roared out. It

was a deep bass laugh, a fruity laugh, a rather – if truth be

told – unhinged laugh.

‘Bwah ha ha!’ roared the Doctor. ‘He’s got you right

where he wants you. He’s playing you like insects on a

string instrument.’

He saw Butler Freddie was hooked. It didn’t want to

be, but it was hooked. The robot waved the guns away and

sighed. ‘What are you talking about?’

The Doctor wiped his eyes. He shook his head, as if

pitying the robots. He looked positively demonic as he

said: ‘You poor deluded fools. Have you never heard of...

the Doctor Trap?’

Donna heard a vehicle drive down the road that led

nowhere. At last, someone was coming.

‘Doctor,’ she said without thinking. Unwanted tears

swelled in her eyes.

She had thought she would go mad. Three days she had

been here. Three mind-numbing, empty days. Donna had

done some boring temp jobs in her life, but the hotel was a

new definition of dull.

To cope with the boredom, she had taken to eating.

Whatever else the Exquisite Traveller lacked, there was

always plenty of food. Sandwiches, cakes, muffins,

chocolate, whatever, whenever.

Once she had ordered, Donna would lie on her bed and

stare at the ceiling until she heard the knock on the door.

She would get up, open the door and pick up the tray in

the empty corridor. She never saw who delivered the food

but she was getting used to that now. The Doctor was

running up a painful room service charge. Doubly painful;

for when he arrived Donna was going to break his jaw.

She was going to get even for sticking her here in this

living hell. Oh yes, there was more than one bill to settle.

At first she believed the car engine to be another

phantom noise, another little devil put here to torment her.

However, she couldn’t help herself; she got up to look.

She swung herself off the bed, noting how heavy her

stomach felt. She was already out of breath; how long had

it been since she had been on her feet? The ever-present

rain streaked down the window.

Tyres squealed on tarmac and scrunched gravel. A

handbrake creaked, and the engine stopped.

Donna waited. Sticky raspberry jam lined her lips. She

didn’t want to leave her food dream; she wanted to go

back to the nothingness. Best to ignore the sound.

Then car doors were slamming, and a young man was

shouting, ‘Where am I? What is this place?’ Donna

recognised a tremble in the voice. The tremble of barely

controlled hysteria.

‘Damn it,’ she snapped. She should get back to bed; the

sound was a trick. There was nothing to see. Another

phantom noise indeed. More torture.

Donna sagged against the window; cold glass against

her face. She moaned.

Then she saw the man. He ran onto the little square of

grass between her block and the wing opposite. He was

quick and fit and blond, looking around sharply. Looking

for a way out.

Good luck, mate, she thought.

Three other men dressed as hotel porters skidded round

the corner after him. The hunted man ran to a downstairs

windows. He banged his fist on the glass and cursed when

it failed to smash.

The three porters were quickly on him. Five minutes

later, they bundled him away but not without cost to

themselves. The blond man knocked out quite a few

porters’ teeth before he was overpowered and dragged off.

Donna walked into the bathroom and looked in the

mirror. She wiped her mouth and stared her puffy, indolent

eyes down. This was no time to lie in bed waiting for the

Doctor. She had work to do. She was going to find that

young man if it killed her.

There was absolutely no point asking the receptionist.

Sadie would be her usual helpful self and end up no help

at all. Donna knew she would have to hunt the new

prisoner room by room. They, whoever they were,

wouldn’t want Donna and him to get together, which was

as good a reason as any for trying.

She decided to search the opposite wing. Logically,

they would put him as far away from her as they could.

Donna ignored the chat and bustle she heard in all the

parts of the hotel she wasn’t in. Didn’t they tire of

thinking she was fooled? Were they even bothering to

watch her? She crossed the courtyard, into the lobby and

walked up the stairs to the first floor of this identical wing.

‘Hello?’ she called.

‘Who’s that?’ a voice responded. The desperation

convinced her. This was for real.

‘Me!’ she shouted, far too eager. She thought she was

falling for another trick when the man walked out of a

room and looked at her.

Now Donna considered herself a very good judge of

male beauty. This was a subject that had interested her

since, well, let’s say thirteen...

He was without the doubt the most handsome man she

had ever seen. Dare she say it, more handsome even than

the Doctor.

Tall, blond and deeply tanned. He was wearing an

expensive grey suit which barely hid a body that looked

like it saw six hours gym a day.

‘Oh my,’ she couldn’t help saying.

‘Who are you?’ the man asked. He dropped into an

animalistic pose, ready to run or fight. Donna realised she

was blushing.

‘I’m... er... Donna, that is. Noble.’

‘Noble?’

‘That’s my name. I think so anyway. Yeah. Sorry.’

The man smiled. ‘Are you all right?’

Donna nodded, feeling foolish.

He looked round. ‘I’m guessing you’re not one of the...

well, whoever they are.’

‘No, I’m a prisoner too,’ she replied. ‘Assuming you

are... I mean...’

‘Yes, I’m a prisoner. The prisoner, you might say. I

wasn’t expecting anyone else. Listen, do you know where

I might get a cup of tea?’

He was clever. Despite his outward charm, Donna realised

the prisoner had given almost nothing away about himself.

On the other hand, he knew almost everything about her,

including the message from the Doctor.

She was pleased to see he had no fear of Sadie or any

of the other so-called staff. Once in reception he had

winked at Donna then bellowed for tea and cake.

Immediately! He then sat down in the biggest, comfiest

sofa right in the middle of the lobby. Donna followed his

example, giggling.

For the first time ever, she saw Sadie scowl, and that

cheered Donna up considerably. The receptionist skulked

off to the kitchen and returned with a tray brimming with

tea pots, milk and muffins.

‘Careful with that,’ the prisoner ordered, just as Sadie

was lowering the tray.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied the receptionist, much too brightly.

She smiled and tottered back behind the reception desk

and the safety of her office.

‘Might as well enjoy ourselves while we’re here,’ said

the prisoner.

‘Why not?’ Donna said back.

‘So you’re a friend of the Doctor?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I don’t even know your

name.’

The prisoner laughed. ‘Sorry. Pleased to meet you,

Donna. I’m Sebastiene.’

Concrete shifted. The patrol sergeant noted the movement

out of the corner of his eye. He waved his hand and his

squad dived for cover.

Of course, this wasn’t really Beriagrad, and the patrol

sergeant and his squad weren’t real soldiers. They just

thought they were. The moving concrete was real though.

Sergeant Laki had heard the blast ten minutes ago. At

first he had taken it for another downed aircraft. When

you had been in Beriagrad as long as he was programmed

to believe he had, you got able to identify what had blown

up by the type of explosion it made. Helped to tell the

difference between a wreck from which you could salvage

food and ammunition and one that was going to machine

gun you down.

When he looked, Laki saw a hole at the bottom of the

crater that looked like no other hole he had ever seen. The

hole was large and perfectly square and pouring out

smoke.

Laki whistled and his ragged squad of two men and

two women began a careful descent over the loose debris.

Falling snow was covering their tracks as they closed in

on the hole. They were just getting to it when the concrete

shifted.

Laki reasoned that someone had got themselves buried.

Maybe it was an enemy. One of the few perks of

Beriagrad was finding a helpless Western soldier to play

with. Gave you something to do to take your mind off the

horror. Bit of fun.

The concrete moved again. Laki waved at one of his

soldiers to take a look. Could be a booby trap – the

Westerns were cunning – and the sergeant wasn’t going to

be the one who did the poking around.

With understandable reluctance, the nominated private

sneaked up to the rubble. She held her rifle out bayonet

first and jabbed the concrete. She stepped back.

‘Again,’ said Laki.

Swallowing, the private obeyed.

The rubble erupted. A dusty white arm grabbed the

private’s rifle. Instinctively, she stepped back and pulled.

Another arm appeared, this one holding a pistol. The

pistol roared and the robot soldier collapsed. The report of

the weapon echoed across the snowy crater.

Laki’s squad dropped to their knees and aimed. A man

emerged from the rubble. His face was gaunt, white and

expressionless.

The ghost man pointed his smoking pistol straight at

the sergeant. Dark, expressionless eyes gazed into his. ‘Go

on,’ said the ghost. ‘Shoot.’

Laki made a strangled sound in his throat, realising his

squad was aiming rifles at the Eastern Marks’ most senior

political officer.

‘Where is the Doctor?’ asked Commissar Weimark.

‘W-who?’

Weimark holstered his pistol, dusted himself down and

stared down at the ruined entrance. ‘An exit point.’

Weimark paused for thought. ‘The Doctor was allowed to

escape. Sebastiene cheated. Very well. Sergeant, bring

your squad. We’re going after him.’

Surprised but compliant, Laki did as he was told.

‘So what you’re saying,’ said Butler Freddie, ‘is that

getting killed is all part of the Doctor’s plan.’

‘The Doctor Trap,’ said the Doctor. ‘Exactly.’

For want of anywhere better, Butler Freddie had

brought the Doctor to the conference room, with its

mahogany table. The TARDIS stood in the shadows, as if

placed there to taunt the Time Lord.

The robot was agitated, and the Doctor felt it his duty

to make it feel worse. He poured tea and milk into one of

Sebastiene’s priceless cups and stirred vigorously. The

room rang with the annoying metallic chink.

Butler Freddie’s moustache quivered. ‘I don’t

understand.’

‘Of course you don’t. That’s the whole point.’

‘And you’re saying Lord Sebastiene knows about this

Doctor Trap?’

The Doctor gave Butler Freddie a look. ‘Der! He’s the

one who told me about it! Why do you think he let me de-

cloak the monorail station?’

Butler Freddie wanted him dead, it really did. ‘Look...’

it spluttered, trying to find a loophole in the story,

‘there’s... it’s...’

‘Listen, robot. As soon as the Doctor is killed, the trap

is going to spring. Then we’re all in trouble: me, you and

especially Sebastiene. Why do you think he keeps being

caught so easily? Being caught and killed is exactly what

the Doctor wants. It’s logic. You see?’

‘No.’

‘This is way beyond your little megatronic brain. It’s to

do with squishy human stuff. Ask Sebastiene when he gets

back. I don’t mind.’

Butler Freddie nodded. ‘I will. You can be sure of that.’

The Doctor swallowed his tea. ‘Where’s he gone

anyway?’ he asked. ‘Just asking.’

‘I don’t know. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.’

Putting his cup back on the silver tray, the Doctor

leaped up. ‘Anyway, time’s a wasting. I’m sure you’ve got

all sorts of robotic butler duties to be getting on with. And

I’ve got a fiendish Doctor Trap to unravel, so...’

‘Wait,’ said Butler Freddie.

The Doctor slumped. ‘What now?’

Butler Freddie stood. Dark eyes glared. It was thinking

things through.

No, thought the Doctor with regret, this one isn’t as

stupid as it looks.

‘If the Doctor is killed, he is dead,’ said the Butler,

slowly. ‘What sort of trap is that?’

The Doctor smiled yet again. ‘My friend. It isn’t my

place to call you stupid. You’re a robot, it isn’t your fault.’

‘Explain it then. How can the Doctor want to die?’

‘Haven’t you worked it out yet? Whoever is out there

isn’t the Doctor.’

The afternoon passed quickly in a blissful haze of tea and

chat. Sebastiene was charming and handsome and his

story was ever so tragic.

‘I created this world. Well, I fashioned it anyway.

Planet 1. My home.’

Donna smiled. ‘I knew this couldn’t be Bracknell. So

how come you’re trapped with me, then? And how do you

know the Doctor?’

‘Everyone knows the Doctor. I was in trouble. I sent a

message asking him for help. Which is I guess why you’re

here. I am afraid this is going to get complicated.’

Donna looked around. Muzak was creeping round the

lobby; glitzy and tatty like Christmas decorations left up

too long. Donna felt if she heard the Sugababes one more

time she would scream. ‘Anything that stops me

remembering I’m here is fine.’

‘Please don’t blame me for this place,’ said Sebastiene.

‘The planetary terraforming circuits have a telepathic

quality. They use your emotional secretions to model an

analogue environment.’

‘Uh?’

Sebastiene smiled. ‘Don’t worry; I don’t understand

how it works either.’

‘I thought you said you run Planet 1.’

‘No, Planet 1 runs Planet 1. I’m more like a... an ideas

man. A consultant. When I arrived, all the machinery was

already in place. I just figured out how to use it. Use it,

but not understand it.’

‘Sounds like me and Microsoft Excel.’

‘Mm?’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Donna. ‘So where are you from

originally?’

Sebastiene stood up and stretched. ‘Would you believe:

Earth?’

Donna realised she had stopped breathing. Sebastiene’s

stretch was about the most graceful and attractive male

movement she had ever witnessed.

‘Earth 1973, to be exact,’ he was saying. ‘I was a

scientist. Well, a student. I was only twenty, a not very

brilliant undergraduate at Cambridge completely out of his

depth. I volunteered for this little project. There was this

weird meteorite that they wanted investigating. I was to sit

in a lab and squint into an electron microscope and wait

for it to do something. What that might be they never told

me. If anything did happen, I was supposed to run and tell

the experts. Eventually, something did happen. There was

a blinding flash and suddenly here I was, lying in the dust

of an alien planet.’

‘How?’

‘Do you really want to hear the theories? I’ve spent a

long time on them.’

‘I’m guessing I don’t.’

‘You’re right. Anyway, here I was – a million light

years from where I was supposed to be. For a while I just

panicked. The sky was different, all purple and no Moon.

There was only desert and these strange metallic

formations, like gigantic radio antennae. Only they

weren’t radio-wave receivers. They were thought-wave

receivers. Specifically, my thoughts.’

‘How did they get there?’ asked Donna. ‘Who built

them?’

‘I don’t know. The old long-dead civilisation story, I

expect. I remember thinking, if I had to be transported

somewhere, why couldn’t it be a tropical beach in

Mauritius? Next thing I knew, there I was: on a beach:

white sand, clear sea, sunshine.’

‘The antenna things had picked up on that.’

‘Right,’ said Sebastiene. ‘And from then on it was just

a matter of working out how this massive powerhouse of a

planet worked. You may have noticed this physique, this

face?’

Donna could feel herself blushing. ‘Not really. Well, all

right. Yes.’

Sebastiene smiled, his perfect teeth flashing in the low

light. ‘I made it myself. You don’t want to know my

original appearance. Let’s just say: science geek

multiplied by a thousand.’

He looked at the reception desk. Sadie had come out of

hiding and was watching them. Her jewelled fingers were

scratching at the counter, tearing up brochures. She didn’t

seem to know she was doing it.

‘I rather think we’ve run out of time,’ said Sebastiene.

‘Wait,’ Donna snapped. ‘How did it go wrong? How

come you lost it all?’

Sebastiene smiled. ‘Someone came, stole my identity

and took it all off me.’

‘Who?’

‘I don’t know. But now he also calls himself

Sebastiene... and he looks like me. That’s why I put out

the emergency distress call. I hoped the Doctor would

pick it up and find me. The situation here is desperate.

This imposter may well have fooled the Doctor into

thinking he’s me. Planet 1 has become dangerous.’

Through the windows, Donna saw the male porters

standing outside in the rain, not moving. Not for the first

time, Donna noted how smooth and expressionless their

faces were. ‘When did they get here?’ she asked. ‘Who are

they?’

‘Androids,’ said Sebastiene. ‘Constructs. His.’

Donna stood up. She looked around then picked up a

padded chair. ‘If they’re androids,’ she said, ‘we should

fight our way out.’ She raised the chair. It was heavy

enough to do a good job.

‘We can’t,’ Sebastiene replied. ‘This hotel is a

molecular bonded micro-zone. There is no way out.’

‘There has to be a solution.’

‘Yes,’ said Sebastiene. ‘Someone must rescue us.’

The water poured down the station steps and dumped

Baris onto a simple underground platform. Luckily for

him, a train had pulled in. The train was a long featureless

piece of metal: bronze and smooth like a section of pipe.

Baris slammed into its side. The water spread in a thin

gruel across the platform.

Battered and exhausted, shocked and in agony, Baris

scrabbled for a handhold. He barely knew what he was

doing; a primitive instinct for survival all that functioned

in his bruised, frozen, soaked brain. ‘What more...’ he

moaned. ‘What next?’

The train trundled forward, picking up speed. Baris

scrabbled at its smooth sides. If he stayed on the platform,

he was a dead man. This was his only chance. He saw a

bump in the smooth metal some way down the train’s

side. A handle heading his way. Had to be.

Baris instinctively grabbed the handle. The train sped

up. He closed his eyes and started to run. ‘Open the door!’

he yelled. ‘Open the door!’

Aware that the platform was about to run out, he tried

to let go. His hand, however, seemed clamped to the hull.

‘Don’t let me die,’ he pleaded, ‘don’t let me die...’

He felt a force grip him, like gravity or magnetism or

something, and he was swept up and pressed hard against

the metal side.

Then he was in darkness, travelling at a speed he knew

should have been impossible to survive. He should have

been torn from the handle and hurled back down the track.

The train hissed up and down through tunnel after

tunnel, turning unbelievable angles and once even leaving

the monorail track altogether and dropping down into a

lower tunnel. Baris felt very sick but he knew better than

to let go.

Finally, there was light again and the train slowed and

gravity suddenly gripped his body. He weighed a ton. His

arms couldn’t hold on any more. With a yell, he fell.

Onto another platform.

Baris lay spread-eagled. He couldn’t move. He had

been chased without respite from one end of this planet to

the other. Wherever he had ended up would have to wait.

Even his need to find Donna would have to wait. This

floor was hard but safe. The train whooshed off.

A long time later, Baris looked up to see a long metal

bench lining an empty platform. Hardly able to walk, he

crawled to the bench, lay down and fell asleep.

‘Curse him!’ bellowed Commissar Weimark. ‘He has the

luck of the Western devil.’

The featureless train had left the station with the Doctor

clinging to its side. Weimark stared down the tunnel. He

needed to think.

‘What is this place?’ said the sergeant. ‘I’ve never seen

anything like it.’ The android soldiers ran their hands

across the smoothly bored platform walls.

‘Yes you have,’ Weimark replied. ‘You were probably

delivered here.’

Ignoring Laki’s puzzled expression, Weimark tried to

think how he should proceed. ‘The Doctor must have

known about the station. This is treachery.’

Unfortunately, this realisation did not help him catch

the Time Lord. He could hardly walk down the tunnel

after his quarry. Not with 500-kilometre-an-hour trains

coming up behind.

‘We should get back to the city,’ said one of the

soldiers. ‘This is a bad place.’

‘That’s right,’ said the sergeant. ‘Commissar, we should

go.’

Their programming, Weimark realised. They would

react in this way to any breach of the Beriagrad protocol.

Anything the squad could not understand they would

avoid. He had to make them understand. He would need

these robots.

‘I am afraid not,’ he told them. ‘Sergeant. This is a

Western Mark transportation tunnel. We have been aware

of them for some time but chose not to tell the common

soldier. We wished to maintain the pretence of ignorance.

The enemy was not to be alerted. Until the final victorious

assault, of course. You understand?’

The sergeant’s neck clicked strangely. The robot was

making up its small mind. ‘Yes, Commissar,’ it said. ‘A

Western Mark transportation tunnel.’

‘Consider yourself under my command. We have work

to do. You will discuss this mission with no one. You will

not ask questions. Just follow my orders.’

‘Yes, Commissar.’

Weimark heard a hissing noise. A new train was

arriving. Apparently driverless, it sidled up to the platform

and stopped. The Commissar nodded at the vehicle. ‘We

must follow the Doctor.’

‘The doors do not open,’ said one of the privates. ‘How

do we get onto the train?’

Weimark raised his rifle and fired an armour piercing

round into the side. The metal burst inwards. The gunshot

echoed down the tunnel, getting fainter as it travelled.

‘We use our initiative,’ he said. ‘Get on.’

‘I love you, my master,’ said the Butler on the TV screen.

‘Please don’t be angry.’

‘Yeah, all right,’ Sebastiene replied. ‘Let’s not get

gooey.’

The Butler looked almost mournful. Sebastiene was

touched; well he would have been if he hadn’t known he

had programmed the robot to act that way.

‘Baris?’ asked Sebastiene.

‘I’m not clever enough for him.’

Sebastiene leaned back on his bed. ‘You’re worried

about this “Doctor Trap”.’

‘That’s right,’ said the Butler. ‘I’ve thought and thought

but I just can’t understand how it might work. Now the

Doctor’s disappeared into the monorail network. He could

be anywhere. I think this whole Doctor Trap is just a pack

of lies.’

Sebastiene sneered at the screen. ‘You idiot. That’s just

what he wants you to think. Of course there’s a Doctor

Trap. A fiendishly clever trap. He’s not the Doctor for

nothing.’

‘I don’t trust Baris.’

‘I don’t trust anyone,’ Sebastiene replied. ‘That’s why

I’m here instead of there. You think I’m on holiday? You

think I want Baris running round the Chateau poking his

nose in? Look, if it makes you feel better, be assured Baris

will not leave Planet 1 alive.’

The Butler smiled. ‘Yes, that makes me feel a lot better.

Thank you, my master.’

‘But until I get back, you give him enough rope.’

Sebastiene reached to turn the screen off.

‘To hang himself?’ asked the Butler brightly.

Sebastiene sagged. ‘You robots really know how to

ruin the moment, don’t you. Yes: enough rope to hang

himself. Oh... go away.’

He had no idea how long he had been asleep. Time had

lost its meaning here in this monorail station. Baris

guessed some days had passed. Any relief he’d had from

escaping his hunters had long worn off. He needed food,

badly.

He had found water, if you could call it that.

Condensation formed on metal handrails and doors and

although it kept him alive, the liquid tasted foul.

He had tried all the potential exits, all the ways to

escape. The platform was essentially a slightly wider part

of the tunnel with lights and somewhere to sit. No doors,

no ladders.

Baris had thought about grabbing the handle on another

train as it passed through but he knew he lacked the

courage. He had been lucky once with that tactic. Never

again. He was marooned, as surely as on a desert island.

At some point, he was going to have to go into the

tunnel. He was going to have to try and walk out. If he did

that, which would happen when he could no longer stand

the hunger, a train was going to come along and flatten

him.

He tried to think back. After all, he had plenty of time

for reflection. As the Doctor, surely he could expect to

remember a past adventure in which he had escaped a

similar situation. No memories came. His past was a

complete blank.

Well, not complete. For some reason, he was

remembering a totally different life. He could picture a

small housing unit in a conurbation in a sprawling city. He

could remember sitting in a dark, square bedroom. He

remembered being plugged into an i-Dock, scouring the

Galactic Neural Net. He remembered linking to other

minds and searching for information. Searching for news.

News, scraps of information, anything that would numb

the tedium of his everyday boredom.

Where were his real memories? Where was Rose? He

knew the name but couldn’t put a face to her. He knew

they had fought Daleks and Cybermen and even met her

family but he didn’t have any emotional attachment to that

knowledge. How could he have forgotten Rose?

He lay on the bench and tried to relax. Hunger did not

make that attempt difficult. As he closed his eyes, Baris

felt this new memory rising to block out those other

memories. No, not blocking; superimposing. A face: his

own. The face looked at him and spoke. ‘You are the

Doctor,’ it said. ‘Donna is in trouble. You must find her.’

The voice grew louder and louder until he couldn’t hear or

see those initial memories at all. His own voice? His

subconscious encouraging him to resist?

Baris thought about what had happened to his mind. He

thought and thought until finally he thought he knew what

was going on in there. Someone had implanted false

memories. Maybe they used the i-Dock to do it. Someone

was trying to convince him he was someone else.

Someone wanted him to think he wasn’t the Doctor.

Baris sat up. Well, he wasn’t going to let them.

However they attacked his mind he would resist.

‘Time to go, Doctor,’ he said. He would get down that

tunnel and no, a train wouldn’t come along and flatten

him. He refused to allow that possibility.

He heard a familiar whooshing sound and, as if to test

his new determination straight away, a monorail train slid

into the station. If he followed the train out, he would

probably have some time before the next one turned up. If

he was lucky.

Only this train was different from the others. This train

stopped. The metal segments wheezed and groaned as

they cooled. Steam bled from its joints. A door towards

the front fizzed with discharged static electricity and

hissed open.

Baris looked around for cover. There was none.

Whatever was hiding behind that smooth bronze door was

going to step onto the platform and catch him in the open.

No one came out.

The train sat panting, like a dog waiting for its master.

Baris smelled cooked food. He did not need to think

twice; he ran for the open door.

They were beating Sebastiene. Donna would wait

outside his door, which she couldn’t break down no matter

how hard she thumped. The sounds from within, the

muffled cries and the thuds, the mumbled questions and

the defiant replies, left her in tears.

When the sessions ended, when they had had enough,

the door would click open and Sebastiene would stagger

out. Donna would help him down to the lobby, their nest.

Practised now, she dabbed his bruised face with cotton

wool and water scrounged from the Exquisite Traveller’s

meagre first-aid box. Every day he took longer to recover.

‘Why are they doing this?’ she asked.

‘They like it,’ he said back.

‘There must be a reason. There has to be.’

Sebastiene winced and held his jaw. ‘It’s the other

Sebastiene. He comes in with his pals, works me over and

leaves.’

‘Where?’ She tried not to sound hopeful. ‘I mean, if

they’ve got a secret exit we could—’

‘Forget it,’ said Sebastiene. ‘They’re using the

transmat. I thought I had arranged it to be switched off but

—’

‘If we got hold of this man. If I got in the room, put a

gun to his head, held him hostage...’

Sebastiene smiled. ‘It’s a nice idea, but there’s a reason

you can’t get that door open, Donna. There’s a molecular

seal. You couldn’t break it down in a million years. But I

admire your imagination.’

Donna dropped her cotton wool into the bowl. The

water was red now. ‘That’s the best I can do, Sebastiene.

I’m sorry.’

He sat up, wincing as he did so. ‘Listen, you’re

terrific.’

‘I don’t understand why they’re beating you up. If they

wanted to kill you, wouldn’t they have done it by now?’

She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Why bother to send you

here to meet me? They must want something.’

She looked at him. He looked at her. They both spoke

at once. ‘The Doctor.’

That afternoon, Sebastiene decided to take a walk round

the grounds. ‘Sod the rain,’ he said. ‘Let it fall.’ And for

the first time in what seemed like for ever, Donna laughed.

Sadie watched from the reception desk as they linked

arms and stood in the doorway.

‘We’re off,’ said Sebastiene. ‘We’re taking a

constitutional.’

‘A perambulation,’ said Donna.

‘A walk!’

Sadie smiled. ‘Have a nice time,’ she said.

‘Oh Sadie, while we’re out...’

‘Yes, Sebastiene?’

‘Don’t forget to kill yourself. A really excruciating and

hideous death would be ideal.’ He smiled back.

‘Have a nice day,’ said Sadie again, without changing

her expression.

‘Why do they want the Doctor?’ asked Donna. ‘And

why don’t they have a go at me?’

They had reached the road’s first pointless turn. From

here they would be walking in an endless loop. All roads

led to the Exquisite Traveller.

Sebastiene shrugged. ‘Good question.’

‘They must ask you something.’

‘I think he’s worried. Afraid, even. The Doctor has

done something to him.’

‘That sounds familiar.’

‘No, I mean really afraid. Is he really as terrifying as

the stories say?’

Donna remembered her first encounter with the Doctor.

When she had been supposed to be getting married. She

remembered what she said when he asked her to join him.

‘I told him once he needed someone to stop him.’ She

looked at Sebastiene. ‘Yeah, he is that terrifying. Your

invader bloke is right to be worried.’

‘You care about the Doctor very greatly, don’t you?’

Donna nodded. She hadn’t pressed that sore point for a

while.

‘Sometimes I don’t want to,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I

wish I didn’t feel for him. He is big and he is scary, and I

shouldn’t let the way he messes about and pretends to be a

big kid fool me. But I do.’

‘Why? I mean, if you know he’s trying to fool you?’

‘Because I like it. And that’s part of the Scary. I don’t

like what he brings out in me.’

Sebastiene chuckled. The chuckle turned into a cough

as the wounds kicked in. Donna held him up as he

stumbled. ‘You shouldn’t laugh,’ she scolded.

‘I can’t help it,’ he replied. ‘What you say about the

Doctor. It sounds just like what I thought about Planet 1

when I first figured the place out.’

‘Uh?’

‘Without any effort, I just suddenly had access to

massive power. Just me: an ordinary man from Bexley. I

could change my physical structure. I could alter the

geography of an entire planet. I could, quite literally,

create matter out of thin air. Yes, you could say I didn’t

like what it brought out in me. What was possible in my

life had changed. Big time.’

Donna thought about this for a while. ‘That’s it. With

the Doctor... I feel I could get anything I want. But it’s not

quite like that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s... just good. I mean, he can be mischievous and

annoying. But he’s good.’ Donna sensed her face glowing

red. ‘Good in that if there’s bad, he fights it. And this

bloke that’s forced you out, well anyone who can give out

a beating like he gives you, he has to be bad. If Planet 1

can give what you want, the Doctor’s job is to get you to

work out what’s worth wanting.’

She squeezed Sebastiene’s hand. ‘Which is why I have

faith. The Doctor will find us.’

The beatings continued. Donna was beginning to believe

that this other Sebastiene, the imposter, just hit the real

one because he liked it.

Her helplessness in the face of the violence was the real

torture. She pounded on the door but no one ever

answered. They took not a blind bit of notice. Just those

same old rumbling voices and the barked questions.

They were going to kill him.

When he came out, she dressed his wounds. Every

time. Sebastiene remained chirpy, never giving in, but he

was fading away. Each time, he took longer to recover. He

also had information.

Sebastiene lay on a sofa in the reception. The wounds

were starting to look permanent. He needed serious

medical attention and fast.

Donna listened as he croaked out what he had learned.

‘The Doctor is loose,’ he said. ‘He has escaped and is out

and about somewhere on Planet 1. From the level and

intensity of his anger,’ and here Sebastiene rubbed his jaw,

‘I think the imposter has messed up. He totally

underestimated the Doctor.’

‘He wouldn’t be the first,’ said Donna. ‘But don’t you

get it? The Doctor is coming for us. He has to have a

plan.’

‘That’s what I thought.’ Sebastiene looked at her with

those heavily lidded eyes. ‘Are we talking about the

Doctor Trap?’

Because of that, because of what he said, Donna

realised what was going on.

She felt like she had just woken up. Anger flared up

inside her, a quick intense burst of real wild rage. She felt

like blasting off, lashing out.

However, she was learning. If the Doctor had taught

her anything, it was that she could focus her anger and use

it as a weapon. Much more destructive. Let’s hold back a

little, she thought. Let’s wait.

‘Are you all right, Donna?’ asked Sebastiene. ‘You’ve

gone a funny colour.’

‘What do you know about the Doctor Trap?’ she asked

in a shifty little voice. Like he had just said some magic

words.

Beneath his wounded-soldier act he was all smug

relaxation and ease. ‘Almost nothing,’ he said sincerely.

‘Just the words. When they beat me, that’s all they keep

asking. What is the Doctor Trap?’

‘If they’re beating you to find out what it is, wouldn’t it

be better if I didn’t tell you?’

Sebastiene leaned to the teapot, as if to pour himself

another cup. Donna tried not to smile.

‘Hmm,’ he said.

‘No, it’s probably better if I tell you what the Doctor

Trap is,’ she said.

He stopped squirming. Immediately. ‘So there is one?’

‘It might get us out of here, mightn’t it?’ She smiled her

dumbest smile. ‘It might help?’

‘If you’re sure,’ he replied, trying to catch her mood.

Donna looked around, cagey. Her voice dropped to a

whisper.

‘When I first met the Doctor, I was going to get

married, see? To this bloke I really liked, called Lance.

You with me?’

Sebastiene nodded.

‘Lance spent ages chatting me up, being my mate. We

got on really well. Whenever I needed a shoulder to cry

on, there was good old Lance. He seemed too good to be

true. He told me he loved me, yeah, and that we should

get married. Only thing was, the Doctor turned up and

worked out that all the time Lance had been playing this

game with me, tricking me, using me. Why don’t you pour

the tea, Sebastiene?’

Sebastiene seemed to be struggling. He was squirming

again. ‘Yes, sure.’ He sat up and fiddled with the teapot.

‘This... oh what’s the word for my lovely Lance... oh

yeah: scumbag. Well, he was being manipulated by

someone smarter than him, promising him all sorts of

anything, and he fell for it. Like an idiot, you know what I

mean? You all right there, Sebastiene? Hasn’t gone cold,

has it?’

He gave her a wan smile. ‘Cold? I don’t understand.’

‘The tea, Sebastiene, the tea. So ever since then I’ve

learned to become just a little bit suspicious of pretty

young boys who think Donna’s a bit desperate and a bit

thick, and they can do what they want with her. Not being

rude am I?’

‘Donna, what are you saying?’ said Sebastiene. ‘You’re

wrong, listen. They tortured me... in there...’

Donna put on her mock-offended look. ‘Thinking they

can mess me about so they can find out what the Doctor’s

up to. What’s up, Sebastiene? Ain’t we friends any more?’

Only now did Donna realise her voice had been getting

louder.

Sebastiene stopped playing with the tea service and sat

back on his sofa. They stared at each other. For the first

time, Donna could see what was really going on in

Sebastiene’s mind. He wasn’t used to being sussed out,

and he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it.

Sebastiene hurled the tea tray off the table then returned to

stare again. In the distance, Donna saw Sadie step back.

The receptionist was frightened.

‘Why don’t you shut up?’ he whispered.

She refused to be cowed. The best way to handle

bullies was to give it back to them. She hoped.

Donna stood and put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m gonna

tell you exactly what the Doctor Trap is. You want to

know? Do you really want to know? Do you?’

‘Just tell me,’ he snarled. ‘Tell me what the Doctor Trap

is.’

‘It’s a warning, for me to avoid you.’

‘That’s not a trap.’

‘Yes it is. It’s a trap for you. He wanted you to ask me

about the Doctor Trap, so when you said those specific

words to me, I would know you were a scumbag too.’

Donna laughed. ‘The Doctor, he’s brilliant, he is.’

She had him. All he could do was sit and stare. ‘I’m

right,’ she said. ‘I am, aren’t I?’

Sebastiene smiled and, for the first time since she had

met him, Donna was frightened. She realised he probably

wasn’t a very good loser. In fact, he was actually insane.

Very calmly, he said: ‘You know I could kill you instantly.

It would be so easy.’

‘Shut up, I’m sick of listening to you.’

He walked towards the exit. ‘Enjoy the rest of your life

Donna,’ he said. ‘I’ll send someone for you. Soon.’

‘Get back here!’ Donna snapped. She didn’t want to be

left alone, not again, but she was damned if she was going

to let him know that.

Sebastiene waved an idle hand goodbye and walked

into the rain. Donna stared after him. She stared for a long

time, afraid to let her anger go, afraid generally.

With that smug, error-free brain process called hindsight,

Donna worked out she probably could have played that

situation better.

Donna paced the hotel waiting for something nasty to

happen. When nothing did, she wondered whether the

waiting was the vengeance. Perhaps he had just left her

there to rot.

She started to feel sleepy. Really sleepy. Funny what

stress could do to the mind. She felt she ought to be

making plans for whoever he would send, but she just

couldn’t summon the energy. She tried eating, but even

that didn’t work. In the end, she just went to bed.

Delayed shock, she guessed, as she lay back and stared

at the ceiling. Must be why she was so tired. Bit of sleep

and she would be as right as rain. Yeah, bit of sleep, and if

the Doctor finally actually turned up, she would be ready.

Donna wondered what the Doctor was doing right now.

Her last thought was that the one thing he definitely would

not be doing was being asleep.

The lights snapped on. Butler Freddie scooped him out of

bed again.

The Doctor struggled in its grip. ‘Oh come on,’ he said.

‘You cannot be serious.’

There was an urgency in Butler Freddie’s stride as he

marched the familiar route to the Trophy Room. Uh oh,

thought the Doctor.

Once again, Sebastiene was waiting for him. Only this

time he was angry.

Uh Oh Chongo. Danger Island...

The Butler threw the Doctor onto the couch. The

intelligent harnesses snaked their way around his body.

‘There’s no need for this,’ the Doctor insisted. He squinted

at Sebastiene’s face. ‘Have you been in a fight?’

Sebastiene stood in a pool of light. He seemed only

half-aware of the Doctor’s presence. He was dressed in a

torn suit, a rather fetching torn suit actually that made him

look very cute and vulnerable. ‘Like it,’ said the Doctor.

‘The whistle. Goes well with those bruises on your face.

Who did that?’

‘Stop your infantile prattling,’ Sebastiene snapped. ‘I’m

sick of the sound of you.’ In the background, Butler

Freddie giggled.

He pressed a button, and a giant LCD screen dropped

into view. Sebastiene waved a hand and his face rippled.

The bruises on his face began to fade. Within seconds,

they had all gone.

‘Clever,’ said the Doctor. ‘Look, what have I done?’ He

was desperate to figure out what they had found out about

him. ‘The Butler’s been telling tales, hasn’t he?’

Sebastiene wiped his face with a towel and, for the first

time, the Doctor saw the extent of his rage.

The screen flickered into life. It revealed a small,

featureless hotel room. The curtains were drawn, and a

feeble light turned everything inside grey. A body lay on

the bed, immobile.

‘Donna Noble,’ said Sebastiene, spitting the words out.

‘The feisty, strong Miss Donna Noble.’

Donna. The one sure trump card Sebastiene held to get

him. The Doctor bit his lip.

‘I want the truth, Baris,’ said Sebastiene. ‘I know

you’ve been lying to me and it stops here. Who are you?

Really?’

The Doctor tried flim-flam; for old times’ sake. ‘My

master, I don’t know what you mean. I’m...’

Sebastiene raised a finger. ‘Just to let you know, I’ve

turned off the oxygen supply for Miss Noble’s little

domain. She is breathing the last of what remains.

Already, she is unconscious. Planet 1 informs me that she

will die of asphyxiation in somewhere between six and

twelve minutes. Of course, brain damage will occur much

sooner than that.’

The Doctor struggled in his bonds. ‘She’s done nothing

to you. Let her go.’

‘I know you covet her, Baris, or whoever you are.

You’ve been trying to find her since you arrived. So if you

want her you’re going to have to tell me who you really

are.’

‘Oh, master,’ said Butler Freddie. ‘I knew you were

clever. You’re cleverer than... the world. You see that girl.’

He tapped the Doctor. ‘She’s going to die.’

‘Sebastiene!’ the Doctor snapped. ‘I’m warning you: let

Donna go.’

‘Warning me?’ said Sebastiene with the utmost calm.

‘Tell me, imposter: who are you?’

‘She’s dying,’ giggled Butler Freddie. ‘She’s going

down...’

The Doctor looked at the body on the bed. He looked at

the black, endless Trophy Room with its motionless,

illuminated treasures. He looked at Sebastiene, who

leaned casually against the dangling screen. And when he

had looked everywhere, he knew he had no choice.

‘You’ve won,’ he said. ‘I’m the Doctor. I’m the real

Doctor.’

Sebastiene put his hand over his mouth. He coughed. No,

not a cough: a giggle.

The Doctor wasn’t in the mood. ‘All right,’ he

muttered. ‘Now let Donna go.’

The restrainers held him firm. Up on the screen, in her

pretend hotel room, Donna slept. How long, he thought,

how long does she have?

Sebastiene composed himself. He took a deep breath

and started to speak. However, before any words could

emerge, he snorted out a laugh. His gorgeous blue eyes

were moist as he erupted into a fit of loud gusty chuckles.

He wept with laughter.

‘Share the joke,’ said the Doctor.

Sebastiene held up a hand, indicating he would reply

when he could. The Doctor stared at him, stern and angry.

Finally, Sebastiene managed to control himself. ‘I

apologise. It’s just that... that I get it! I understand the

Doctor Trap! Damned obvious if you’re in the know;

impossible if you’re not. Brilliant, Doctor! Oh, what a

clever fellow you are.’

The Doctor strained against the metal bonds. ‘Thank

you, but Donna... safe... right?’

‘Oh I wouldn’t go as far as to say “safe”,’ said

Sebastiene. He looked up at the screen. ‘What use is she

now?’

Her chest was rising and falling. But was it slowing?

The Doctor couldn’t be certain. How long would she last

without oxygen? How much was she using up?

‘I’m warning you, Sebastiene, all games apart, if you

harm her...’

Sebastiene grabbed the Doctor’s face, inspecting it.

‘Quite, quite remarkable. What a clever chap. Fiendishly

clever. Devilishly clever, in fact...’

‘Can I kill him now?’ asked a hopeful Butler Freddie.

‘Oh no,’ boomed Sebastiene, raising his arms to the

sky, making his speech to the heavens. ‘We don’t kill our

friends. Do we? Eh, Baris?’

It took a moment for the Doctor to take in the words.

He struggled round to look at Sebastiene. ‘Baris?’

The Butler also realised. It visibly sagged, knowing the

effort to come. ‘Er, no, my master. This is the Doctor. The

real Doctor. He told you.’

The robot shook the Doctor, who took that as a hint.

‘Yes, I told you. I am the Doctor.’

‘Let’s think this through,’ said Sebastiene. ‘Release.’

He clicked his fingers and the metal bonds relaxed and

withdrew.

‘Sir,’ stumbled Butler Freddie. ‘You’re wrong.’

Sebastiene gritted his teeth. ‘I run this planet, so do as I

say or you can join your scheming little friend the

Supervisor on the scrapheap.’

The Doctor rubbed his wrists. He had to get Donna out

of that room.

Sebastiene’s face was without expression. ‘I really

don’t see any need for Donna any more. Not when I have

you. Don’t you understand, Baris? The Doctor has

hypnotised you into thinking you’re him. He must have

wrestled the hypno-device from you and reversed its

effect. He sent you here to help him get through the

hunting zones. The fifth column; the fly in the ointment.

The Doctor Trap, brilliant!’

The Doctor sighed. ‘No, it’s the other way round, don’t

you see? I am the real Doctor. I am. Look, I’ve got the two

hearts, the Time Lord DNA.’

Sebastiene nodded indulgently. ‘As does Baris. There is

no physical way to tell you apart.’

‘Sebastiene. Come on. You know I’m telling the truth. I

know things only the real Doctor would know.’

Sebastiene thought this statement through. ‘If the

Doctor has made you believe you’re the Doctor, then your

understanding of being the Doctor is based on your own

knowledge of the Doctor’s history. As none of us know as

much about the Doctor’s history as you do, how are we to

know whether what you know is what the Doctor really

knows or just what you know about the Doctor?’

He smiled. ‘You see?’

Butler Freddie scratched his head. ‘My master. Can you

say that again?’

‘No.’

The Doctor tried another tack. ‘Look, remember what

you said the other day. You can kill me and I’ll regenerate.

Well, if it saves Donna’s life.’ He closed his eyes nobly

and stood to attention. ‘I’ll even let the Butler do it.’

‘Oh, yes please,’ said Butler Freddie, licking his lips.

‘You’ve perked up,’ the Doctor opened one eye and

glared.

The Trophy Room was quiet. The Doctor felt the cold

eyes of the lifeless exhibits boring into him. How soon

before he joined them?

‘No,’ said Sebastiene.

‘You know it’s the only way to be sure!’ the Doctor

yelled. ‘Do it, Sebastiene!’

Sebastiene giggled. He was enjoying the intrigue; the

game.

‘Here’s why not. You might believe you’ll regenerate

but you won’t. What killing you will do is lose me a

chance of catching the real thing.’

‘I am the Doctor!’ shouted the Doctor. ‘I swear on

my...’

‘Now I’m interested. What will you swear on?’

‘I swear on my lives, as the last Time Lord. Terminate

my life. Regenerate me. Just save Donna.’

He looked up at the big screen again and could see that

Donna’s breathing was... well, it was gone. She was

suffocating.

‘You really would do that?’ Sebastiene finally started to

look convinced. He stared at the Doctor.

‘This is my problem,’ he said at last. ‘If you are the real

Doctor, then I don’t need Donna Noble any more. If

you’re Baris, I still need her, and for that reason I’ll save

her life. Which is it?’

The Doctor was stuck. Completely stuck.

‘Well?’ asked Sebastiene.

‘I must be Baris,’ said the Doctor.

Sebastiene shouted, ‘Oxygenate Exclusion Zone 15.

There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

The Doctor sagged. ‘Thank you, Sebastiene.’

Sebastiene nodded, his charm and good humour back

on show. ‘A fine night’s work,’ he said. ‘Shall we take

tea? We can talk about what I want you to do next.’

The train seemed to know where it was going. Whatever

the destination, they were travelling there in a real hurry.

Someone had a plan.

Which was lucky because Baris was busy. The train

compartment was well furnished and luckily there was a

really nice comfy bed for him to fall onto. Now he

couldn’t get up again.

The false memory implant was growing stronger. This

character, this other person, was rattling around inside his

head. Whoever he was, he was responsible for a dull

banging in his mind that wouldn’t let up. Literally a pain

in the neck.

As the Doctor, Baris knew he was strong enough to

resist any attempt to overwhelm him, but by heaven it was

hard work. The other personality was so real; so detailed.

‘I am the Doctor,’ Baris shouted, although he couldn’t

remember that at all.

Instead, he kept thinking about a large country house...

no, not a house, a palace. Overdone like a giant wedding

cake. And there was a man there too – a really attractive

man, the kind of man you would lay down your life for.

The man was smiling at him, and Baris remembered

words. These words were joyous words, for the beautiful

man was offering him everything he ever wanted. If only

he could remember what he wanted. What did the Doctor

want? Apart from to find Donna, of course.

He remembered a bright white medical room.

Incredible machinery; almost alive in its sumptuous

complexity. Subatomic body scans, liquid diagnosis baths,

infinitely tiny nano-scalpels. Him, cocooned in a bath of

thick multicoloured sludge, swirling lights, the scalpels

tickling his insides.

What did it mean? Why would this memory be

important? There had to be a reason for the level of detail.

The other character was much stronger now; the sad

one who lay in his room and electronically scanned the

galaxy day after day after same old day. Baris knew this

character’s habits, the rituals he went through before

inserting the i-Dock. He knew the names of this

character’s colleagues: Mou Loobom from Jupiter colony,

obsessed with ‘sorting’ the Time Lord’s timeline, upset

when it just refused to make sense. Princess Po – clone

monarchist of Derridan, who had turned her entire town

into a replica TARDIS. The smug Hamble Consort with

his insane theory that the Doctor was an anti-capitalist

white magician.

Acolytes, the same as him. No, not the same: rivals,

envious of him. Because he knew more, was the best.

Sitting on this train hour after hour, Baris came to

realise the pain had reversed. Now the headaches were

coming when he forced himself to remember he was the

Doctor. This other personality was a relaxing place to be,

an easy place. The Doctor sparked painful lights in his

mind. Much easier to go with the flow, let the train take

the strain; let in those memories of life in the Proximan

Housing Unit...

No!

Baris sat up and a bolt of pain travelled from his brain

through his hearts and down his spine. He punched

himself in the forehead. ‘You are the Doctor!’ He willed

this to be true. ‘You. Are. The. Doctor.’

He had to stay awake and sane, no matter how painful.

If he gave in, the Doctor would be lost for ever.

‘She’s never going to believe me.’

‘She had better, Baris, or she dies.’

‘This doesn’t make any sense. What if I am the real

Doctor?’

‘You’re not.’

‘I don’t get how you can be so sure?’

‘You’re not the Doctor. You’re Baris, and the real

Doctor has hypnotised you into believing you’re the

Doctor.’

‘Why?’

‘To help him survive the hunters.’

‘I’ve got the Doctor’s memories!’

‘He implanted them.’

‘What? In five minutes in a corridor in a base under

siege? I’m good but I’m not God.’

‘He could have taken you to his TARDIS. Time has no

meaning there.’

‘I have no memory of being Baris.’

‘He’s wiped them.’

‘Even if I’m not the Doctor, the fact that I’m helping

him is going to be dangerous to you. And how about this:

if you put me in that Trophy Room and pretend, who’s

going to know? No one goes in there anyway.’

‘I want the real thing.’

‘Sending me there doesn’t make any sense. Why?’

‘The Doctor Trap.’

‘There is no Doctor Trap.’

‘The Doctor Trap. Saying there isn’t one is proof there

is. That’s why you’re going.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Yes. But you’re still going.’

What the robots could never get, what they could never

understand, was that he enjoyed taking risks. His Butler

moped around the control room. Why did the robot have

to be so negative? All it did was drag everyone down.

‘Bored!’ Sebastiene announced. The servants looked

up. ‘As soon as the Doctor is stuffed and mounted,’ he

said, ‘I’m going to change everything. The Chateau, the

way I run things and you lot. I’m going to get you to

throw yourselves in the furnaces.’ The thought made him

laugh. He gestured the robots to join in and they did.

‘Oh, shut up. You’re getting on my nerves.’

The laughter stopped and the control room fell silent.

‘My master, hasn’t the time come to restore the IMT?’

asked the Butler.

Sebastiene sighed. He clicked his fingers and his giant

throne rose through the marble flooring. Its components

shifted and clicked as it assembled itself. Sebastiene fell

back on his pillows. Negative, he thought. Robots.

‘Look,’ he explained, ‘if Baris thinks he’s the Doctor,

that makes him the perfect undercover man. He’s the one

person Donna Noble trusts. Eventually, she’ll let out what

she knows about the Doctor Trap.’

‘But putting them together like that?’ asked the Butler.

‘Heaven knows what they’ll get up to. And what about the

real Doctor? He’s still loose in the monorail network.’

‘Don’t be such a baby. I will explain this once, just to

avoid any more impertinent questions. If I were the

Doctor, I would have implanted instructions that if Baris

located the girl, he was to drop everything and use all

available means to contact him. The Doctor did after all

come to Planet 1 to find her.’

The Butler thought it through. ‘Soo... by doing exactly

what the Doctor wants, you’re wrecking his plan?’

‘Exactly. We don’t need to scour the planetary monorail

network. He’ll come to us. Or rather, Baris.’

‘I can see that, my master. But won’t they just escape?

Without IMT, we can’t keep track of them.’

Sebastiene pointed to the screen. ‘Look. Use those big

eyes of yours. What’s that?’

The Butler looked harder. He squinted. ‘Um.’

‘It’s a prison zone, numpty!’ Sebastiene hurled a

cushion at the gargantuan robot. ‘Once in, no one gets

out.’

The Butler stepped back. He looked to the screen, then

back to Sebastiene. Then to the screen and back to his

beloved master. ‘That’s... that’s brilliant, master.’

‘Of course.’

‘And even if that is the real Doctor...’ it continued.

‘Which it isn’t...’

‘He’s trapped there anyway.’

Sebastiene leaned back into his remaining cushions. ‘I

wish you lot would have a bit more faith sometimes.

Honestly, I’m surrounded by dullards. At least Baris and

Ms Noble were interesting. When they’re dead, I’ll have

to build some just like them.’

He sat up. ‘Now listen carefully. I want you to contact

the rest of the hunters. I’m changing the game. Get them

to the prison zone. They can fight it out between

themselves. You never know; maybe one of them will

even manage to get the Doctor. And charge up my trusty

atmosphere craft. The green one. We’re going on the

attack!’

Either Sebastiene was very smart, or he really was that

stupid. For the lives of him, the Doctor couldn’t work out

which.

Somehow, unbelievably, the last-gasp plan had worked.

By claiming to be the Doctor, Sebastiene had instinctively

not believed him. The more the Doctor insisted, the less

he was believed. There was even a bonus: he had been

sent to contact Donna.

When he was caught by the Butler, the Doctor had

forced himself to stay calm and think his way through

Sebastiene’s thought processes. He needed to find a

weakness, a key. That or he and Donna were dead.

Sebastiene was a schemer; he was a planner, a second

guesser. And, sometimes, he would over-guess and see

complications where there weren’t any. The Doctor had

gambled on that flaw in Sebastiene’s character and it

appeared to have paid off. Not without some damage to

the Doctor’s nerves, however, which were well and truly

shredded. More than once, he had been sure he was

doomed. The stress had been monumental.

‘Forget it,’ he said to himself. ‘There’s work to do.’

So forget it the Doctor did.

The sliding doors swished open, and he stepped into

the lobby of the Bracknell Exquisite Traveller Hotel. Just

behind a set of closed double doors, he heard a large

group of diners eating.

‘Aural triggers? Bit sad, Sebastiene. Don’t you have

any friends you could use to make the place sound full?’

He thought about that. ‘Actually, you don’t, do you...’ The

Doctor brushed off the sprinkles of rain that had blotted

his suit.

How on earth had he ended up here? Not only that:

what had possessed Sebastiene to send him? There must

be a plan. He had to be bait in some extravagantly

prepared trap.

The Doctor stopped himself. He was using the same

flawed thinking that had snared Sebastiene. At some point,

you had to stop seeing plans behind plans. Sometimes,

you just had to take what was in front of you at face value.

So, excuse the pun, let’s face it, Sebastiene could just be

that stupid.

Where to find Donna?

The lobby was bland; entirely without character. After

the excesses of the Chateau, the Doctor found the novelty

pleasing on the eye. Although there was no one about, he

had the strangest impression that a lot of people were just

about to walk in; that they were just out of sight,

watching.

The Doctor sniffed the air, then licked and held up a

finger. ‘Pheromone Conditioning Unit.’

He decided to address the unseen, imaginary audience.

‘Smell molecules swished through the air to give the

impression that living people are around. PCU’s do lots of

fun things. Sneak one into a séance, or a supposedly

haunted house, engineer religious epiphanies, fool well-

meaning parapsychologists... fun stuff. No party should be

without one.’

‘Welcome to the Exquisite Traveller,’ said a bright

voice from reception. ‘My name is Sadie. How can I make

your day better?’

‘And pass robots off as human beings,’ the Doctor

summed up. He swung round to face Sadie the smiling

receptionist.

‘Ah,’ he said, rushing up to her. ‘Most twenty-first-

century Earth hotel receptionists only resemble

emotionless artificial constructs. You’re the real thing.’

‘How lovely,’ said Sadie then repeated: ‘How can I

make your day better?’

‘Just this,’ said the Doctor as he leaned over the

reception desk and pressed the back of her neck. Sadie

stood stock still, grin fixed to her face. The Doctor

nodded. ‘That’s just in case you start sprouting weapons

from unexpected places. I know what you robots are like –

one minute it’s all “humour, an interesting concept”, and

the next your hands drop off to reveal deadly whirly

blades.’

He heard a thump from the floor above. Somebody

hitting something hard with some sort of object. The

Doctor heard a woman laugh.

‘Now, you can’t fake her,’ said the Doctor and dashed

to the stairs.

Donna was using an umbrella to knock holes in doors.

Every time she smashed one open, she put her face to the

gap and shouted: ‘Here’s Donna!’

OK, an Exquisite Traveller Courtesy Umbrella wasn’t

exactly Jack Nicholson with an axe, but she was having

the best fun she had had in ages. Actually: the first fun.

She reached Room 212. Inside, a man and a woman

appeared to be discussing something urgent. Donna

couldn’t make out what they were saying but it definitely

sounded urgent.

‘Go on! Have a good old natter!’ She swung the brolly.

The plastic handle cracked into the wood, causing more

damage to the weapon than the target. Hitting the door

stopped the voices within.

‘What’s the matter?’ Donna shouted. ‘Cat got your

tongue?’

Angered beyond endurance, she hammered away.

When the umbrella splintered into fragments, she hurled it

aside and kicked until she broke the lock. Like all the

others, Room 212 was empty. There was the same well-

made bed, the same little TV, the kettle on the shelf and

the same bowl containing the same sachets of tea, coffee

and sugar.

Donna marched inside, triumphant. ‘Yeah,’ she said.

‘ Now you shut up.’ She was aware of the tremor in her

voice. She was close to cracking up. Another door, she

thought, just keeping breaking the doors.

She marched out to see the Doctor in the corridor. He

was just standing on that horrible carpet waiting for her.

‘Hello, Donna,’ he said and smiled that smile that made

everything better.

He was the Doctor and he was here. No mistaking that

tatty suit and trainers, his elfin face, those sharp eyes that

didn’t miss a thing.

Her first instinct was to burst into tears. Everything was

going to be all right again.

He held out his arms for a hug. However, Donna had

learned not to trust first instincts. Not here in this prison

where nothing was what it seemed.

‘Prove you’re you,’ She took a pace back. Her eyes

were filling with water. ‘Prove you’re my Doctor. I don’t

get fooled again.’

‘The Who?’ he said.

‘Shut up. Prove you’re the Doctor.’

‘How?’ He looked shifty, as if someone was watching.

‘You already know. The Doctor would know.’

‘Donna, what’s happened?’

Donna pointed at him, choking the sobs back down her

throat. ‘He said he would send someone for me. I never

thought it would be you. So maybe you’re someone who

looks like you.’

‘Who said? Sebastiene?’

‘Prove you’re you.’

‘Donna, I... look, it’s difficult.’

‘Prove it!’ She held up the broken handle. ‘Or I’ll

whack you.’

She expected a wisecrack or a quip and was confused

when all she saw in his eyes was sorrow. ‘I... I’m not

going to be able to do that,’ he said.

She raised the brolly higher.

‘How about a truce?’ he suggested. ‘You don’t have to

believe I’m me, but we can still share information, right?’

‘Share information... so that’s what it’s about.’

‘Eh?’

‘You want me to tell you about the Doctor Trap.’

The Doctor looked surprised. ‘How do you know about

the Doctor Trap?’

‘You told me, remember?’

‘No.’

They stood and looked at each other. She wanted to

believe him, she really did. But how could she trust

anybody here?

‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said.

‘Oh good.’ He looked genuinely relieved.

‘You tell me how to get out of here and I’ll tell you...

I’ll tell you what I know about the Doctor Trap.’

For a second, she saw him smile. An old smile that

appeared on his mouth only on the rare occasions she

managed to get something right. A warm (and although

she would never tell him) human smile.

She nearly gave in and believed him there and then, but

just as quickly the smile was gone and he was... well,

whoever he was again.

‘You get me?’ she asked.

‘I get you.’

‘Deal? Or... um... no deal?’

‘Deal. Let’s get downstairs.’

Donna watched him as he walked into the reception.

There was something missing from this Doctor, despite

that tricky smile. He lacked his usual zip, his usual

enthusiasm. That could never be duplicated. The real thing

had twice the standard energy.

Yeah, this one was a fake all right. But maybe if she

just went along with the game, went along with him, he

would actually get her out.

Why not? She could happily tell this fake Doctor what

she knew about the Doctor Trap because she didn’t know

anything about the Doctor Trap.

‘I’ve tried the road,’ she told the Doctor. ‘Don’t think

you can get me to fall for that one.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ he replied. ‘Say goodbye to

Sadie on the way out.’

He had done something to the receptionist. She was

frozen like a shop-window dummy. Just standing there

with that big stupid grin on her face. Her jewelled hand

was raised in frozen greeting.

‘I knew she wasn’t human,’ she said. ‘Can I knock her

head off?’

‘Well, I won’t stop you.’

Donna looked at the stopped robot. She had had

enough of breaking inanimate objects. ‘She ain’t worth it.

Not her fault, is it? Just get me out of here.’

The Doctor stopped, right at the exit. ‘I’ve thought of

something.’

‘Here we go...’

‘When do you tell me about the Doctor Trap? Before or

after we’re out?’

‘Are you taking the mick?’

‘No, no. We both know Sebastiene wants the secret of

the Doctor Trap...’

‘Well, I didn’t until you just said... but I had guessed.’

‘I presume he’s listening or watching all the time. So if

you were to tell me now he doesn’t have much reason to

let either of us go, does he?’

Donna pushed him to the doors. ‘Only if you’re the real

Doctor.’

‘I’m just wondering how this is going to play out.

Sebastiene’s not particularly stable, you know.’

Donna kept pushing him. Through the doors and out

into the rain. ‘To be honest,’ she said. ‘I don’t care. I don’t

have a clue why I’m here or what’s going on.’

The Doctor turned; he stumbled on the wet gravel. ‘Ah,

now I can help you there. You see, Sebastiene is this

despotic but rather lonely ruler of a planet where through

robotic technology he has the power of a god. Because

he’s really, really bored of being all-powerful on a planet

where there’s no one to boss around, he organised this

little safari with me as the target. It’s wet.’

‘You’ll get used to the rain. And by the way,’ she put on

a sweet voice. ‘You’re not convincing me.’

‘Only he made a mistake with the lure...’

Donna screwed up a face. ‘The Lurgh? What’s that? An

alien?’

‘The bait,’ said the Doctor patiently. ‘To get me to his

planet. He found this bloke who knew lots and lots about

me and did him up to make him look like me. Operated on

him big time. Really went to town on the whole making

him look like me business. DNA, two hearts, the lot.’

‘Why would he want to do that? Frame you for a crime

you didn’t commit and have you arrested?’

The Doctor laughed. ‘You watch too many movies. No,

he did it to convince you to come with him to Planet 1.’

Donna winced. She remembered, Snowcap Base and

the creature. The doubts in her mind she hadn’t paid

attention to. ‘That seems like a million years ago.’

‘Sebastiene knew I would follow, especially as he had

my TARDIS. My double had my DNA and a key from

somewhere, which meant he could operate the TARDIS.’

The Doctor paused. ‘You see, that annoys me. That really

gets my goat that does.’

‘So you say. Or you’ve been told to say.’ Donna pushed

him on.

‘Why would I make that up?’

‘To gain my sympathy.’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘So much cynicism in one

so young.’

‘It passes the time. Where are we going by the way?’

Donna said this as the Doctor seemed to be leading her

exactly the same route she tried when she attempted her

first escape. ‘I told you, that road doesn’t go anywhere.’

The Doctor kept moving. ‘Yeah it does.’

‘No it doesn’t.’

‘It does.’

‘I’m telling you, no...’

He stopped and Donna cannoned into his back. The

non-existent traffic droned over the hill. Putting his hands

on his hips, he turned to her. ‘Look, do you trust me or

not?’

‘No.’

‘Good, then just do as I... what do you mean, no?’

Donna put her face to his. ‘That road does not go

anywhere. It’s a big circle.’

He nodded. ‘That’s because it’s not a road.’

‘What is it then?’

‘A train station.’

Donna looked at her feet, then up at him. ‘You are

kidding me,’ she said.

The Doctor was also looking at the ground. ‘Should be

here somewhere... ah!’

Kneeling, he gave her a wicked look. He pressed a

patch of ground and the grass slid aside. Underneath was a

big red button. The Doctor thumped the button.

Donna stood back in disbelief as concealed hydraulics

began to whine and a whole section of road slid apart to

reveal a set of gleaming silver steps. ‘You are kidding...’

she managed.

‘The great thing about Planet 1,’ he said, ‘is that once

you’re in the know, you understand you’re never more

than a kilometre away from a robot workshop, or a train

station.’

Donna jumped and clapped her hands. ‘You beauty!’

The Doctor winked. ‘All aboard.’

As the IMT was disconnected, Sebastiene was forced to

rely on microphones and cameras. To be fair to Planet 1,

these cameras and microphones were totally undetectable

– hidden as they were in insects or seeds or blades of grass

– but it was annoying to have to keep switching angles.

Still, these things were sent to try him.

He watched Baris and Donna descend the steps to the

monorail platform. The robots watched with him,

including the Butler who wanted to complain about

something but didn’t dare.

‘He really believes he’s the Doctor,’ Sebastiene

remarked, fascinated. ‘I wonder what he’ll do next. Is

there a monorail on the way?’

An operator robot read the screen. ‘Yes, master.

Scheduled maintenance components carriage M-Z44i3.

Dropping off spare parts for the prison zone.’

Sebastiene looked at the screen. In the zone the rain

still fell, the trees rustled in the artificial wind. The hole in

the ground dripped.

‘Switch to station cameras. I can’t wait to see what

happens next.’

The Carpalian Witch was in that strange state of waking

sleep. She was both at once, an ability unique to her

species. Wrapped in her web on the first floor ceiling of an

old abandoned house, the Witch could spend weeks in this

condition.

Part of her brain was aware of every creak and scrape

within a two-mile radius. At the same time she was

dreaming, conserving her strength, wrapped tightly

against the damp and woodworm.

The Carpalian Witch was waiting for the Doctor. When

he arrived, her telepathy would detect him and she would

emit suitable scents that would entice him into her room.

Once inside, she would unfurl her hidden legs and drop

down. Game over.

With the dream side of her brain, the Carpalian Witch

relived her previous biggest catch. The Sontaran. A clone

species with no imagination was a tough call. She got him

in the end, of course. She hid inside his bubble spaceship

for six weeks and slipped a finger into his probic vent

when he recharged. A doughy, flavourless quality had the

Sontarans. Not worth bothering with twice.

Not like the Doctor. The Doctor was class.

To be honest, the Carpalian Witch wasn’t expecting the

Time Lord to show. The odds were against it. She knew

her fellow hunters by reputation and it was a fair bet one

of them would get him. Still, if there was one thing she

was good at, it was waiting.

Her telepathy tickled. Something had entered her

hunting range. She phased into full wakefulness. She

flexed her fingers.

Someone was kicking up dust outside. They weren’t

trying to hide their footsteps.

The Carpalian Witch readied herself. The prey opened

the door. The Witch made herself as still as concrete.

The figure walked in. Silent as death itself, the

Carpalian Witch dropped.

She had extended her furry legs round its side and was

busy biting its plastic neck before she realised this was a

servitor android; one of Sebastiene’s confectionary-

coloured servants.

The android stood still as the Carpalian Witch

disengaged and retracted her fingernails. She dusted off

the remains of her web and put her hood back over her

dark, glittering eyes. She stood in the room and resembled

a human again.

‘A change in the rules,’ said the robot. ‘Read this.’ It

handed her a palm-sized digital screen. ‘You leave at

once.’

In Hunting Zone 9, Zzorg Zero was surprised to receive a

visit from Sebastiene’s servant. Not that Zzorg Zero did

not understand that the whole tribe around him were

robots too. He was well aware of that fact. He was

surprised that this one completely broke the illusion by

wearing the uniform of the Chateau. He was also surprised

that it walked out of a sudden hole in the methane swamp

not twenty metres away.

He was even more surprised to receive orders telling

him to get on a train that was waiting for him in a hidden

monorail system beneath the same methane swamp. Zzorg

Zero was surprised but he wasn’t thrown. Unfurling his

gossamer wings, he buzzed down to the waiting train.

Colonel Sty of the Bolken Context read his orders, fixed

his watch to Stable Time, loaded his considerable array of

weapons and marched into his train. As the station doors

closed above his head, his squad of native hunters

disconnected and dropped, ready for collection and

recycling. The Bolken Zone went dark.

All across Planet 1, the members of the Society for

Endangered Dangerous Species were requested to move

zones. They weren’t surprised. No one had expected the

Doctor to be an easy catch, and none of them trusted

Sebastiene.

All relished the challenge. Eight trains containing eight

hunters converged on one zone. They travelled along

Planet 1’s frictionless tunnels with a speed beyond most of

the passengers’ imaginations. Still, they were pleased by

the pace.

They all wanted the Doctor.

There came a whistling from the tunnel. Donna felt no

wind pushing against her like she would have on the

London Underground, but she understood that something

was approaching at an incredible speed.

‘Just in time,’ said the Doctor. ‘We should get out of

here, fast. I don’t know what Sebastiene’s up to, but I’m

sure it didn’t involve me knowing about this train station.’

‘More of a platform really though isn’t it?’ said Donna.

‘Station is a bit of a big word for what we have here.’

‘I’ve missed you, Donna.’

‘Sarky...’

The whistling increased in volume, then stopped. The

Doctor looked impressed. ‘Hmm. Audio Vacuum Filters to

dissipate the ultra-frequency sound. Good thing too, or the

train’s arrival would have burst your eardrums.’ He

seemed incredibly pleased by that notion.

Silent, the train slid into the platform, at which point it

stopped dead. Donna found the sensation alarming. ‘How

many laws of physics just got broken there?’

‘Lots,’ came the Doctor’s reply.

The train hummed with power. Two solid double doors

stood in front of them.

‘You know,’ Donna said, feeling tender, ‘I’m beginning

to believe you.’

The train doors opened. ‘I’m going to say it again,’ said

the Doctor with a big smile. ‘Cos I like saying it.’ He

cleared his throat. ‘All aboard!’

Donna wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t saying anything.

She was just looking. At the Doctor who stood on the

train.

‘Donna!’ said the new Doctor. ‘I’ve come to rescue

you.’

By her side, the real Doctor just moaned, ‘Oh no.’

‘Shut down! Lock it down!’ Sebastiene yelled at the

operator.

Not fazed by the outburst, the robot obeyed, punching

in a code. A satisfying electronic alarm blared out. ‘Prison

zone secured, my master.’

Sebastiene didn’t move. His face remained completely

still. He stared at the screen; at the two Doctors looking at

each other.

Sebastiene’s left cheek twitched. His upper lip

quivered. His eyes closed. ‘I was right,’ he whispered.

He opened his eyes again and turned to the cowering

Butler. ‘I’ve done it.’ He grabbed the Butler by the

shoulders. ‘I was right. I was right! I’ve sprung the Doctor

Trap!’ He kissed the Butler and threw him off.

Sebastiene punched the air, ran, then fell to his knees

and slid along the floor. ‘Result!’

The Butler smiled, slowly understanding. ‘He got him.

My master got the Doctor!’ Out of nowhere, a stadium full

of cheering and applause rang round the control room.

The operator robots joined in. They clapped Sebastiene.

Except one. He was the robot monitoring the monorail

network.

‘Err, my master?’ The robot looked pained as it

coughed to get Sebastiene’s attention.

Sebastiene was busy on his knees, taking in the

applause. He wiped the tears off his face. ‘What is it?’

The operator robot winced. ‘There’s... there’s another

train heading towards the prison zone.’

Suddenly, the lights in the control room turned red. The

cheering and clapping was replaced by a cool, emotionless

female voice droning: ‘Emergency! Collision imminent.

Emergency! Collision imminent...’

‘Eh?’ said Sebastiene.

The Doctors’ eyes were bulging so hard they threatened to

pop from their sockets. All four of them.

Donna was looking from one to the other. ‘Oh my

God,’ she kept saying. ‘Oh my God.’

They were exactly alike. They were both the Doctor.

Not look-a-likes, not impersonators, not stand-ins. They

were both the real thing. Except of course, one of them

couldn’t be.

‘Donna,’ they both said at once.

The Doctor from the train said, ‘That man is an

impostor. He’s been surgically altered to look like me to

lure you to Planet 1 and hunt me down.’

The Doctor she had been with, the one she had found

outside the hotel room, was deep in thought.

‘Well?’ she couldn’t help but ask him. ‘We need to sort

this. What have you got to say for yourself?’

The hotel Doctor seemed to be in physical pain. ‘All

right,’ he said. He glared down the platform. ‘No choice. I

hope you’re paying attention, Sebastiene.’

‘I’m the Doctor,’ said Baris, butting in.

‘And I’m Baris,’ said the Doctor.

They looked at each other.

Donna looked at them. ‘That feels right,’ she said.

‘There’s an emotional subconscious bond thing I have

with the real Doctor. Call it woman’s instinct, call it

whatever. And I never trusted you,’ she pointed to the real

Doctor. ‘You were always too good to be true.’

She pointed at Baris. ‘I feel a connection with you. It

just feels right.’ She eyeballed the real Doctor. ‘Got that?

Fake?’

He sighed. ‘Yes, Donna, I got that.’

Donna clapped her hands. ‘Then let’s get the hell out of

here.’

The ground began to shake.

‘What’s going on?’ Sebastiene stared at a red pixelated dot

racing through the computer-modelled tunnel. ‘This can’t

be...

‘Terminate that train!’ yelled the Butler, taking over as

Sebastiene dithered.

‘I can’t,’ replied the operator robot as it frantically

flexed its hands.

Sebastiene grabbed the skull-docked robot’s hand and

snatched at the floating icons.

No change. The red pill-shaped light representing the

train was moving quickly along a black line representing

the tunnel. Sebastiene looked up, stunned.

‘Even the Doctor couldn’t... not from there... what have

I missed? What have I missed?’

He looked around the room for clues. The Butler

shrugged.

‘Someone in the Chateau? Still. Surely not...’

For the first time since the Butler’s activation, it saw

that Sebastiene looked frightened. The robot’s

programming refused to comprehend the emotion.

‘My master?’ it said, a chill in its own voice. ‘What’s

wrong? Do you need tea?’

Sebastiene started to bite his nails. ‘I should have

known about that train. I rule here. I should have known!’

He thumped the operator robot.

The Butler thought. ‘Perhaps the Doctor pre-arranged

the train to go rogue before you sent him to the girl.’

‘Impossible. No one could have that amount of

foresight. And it wasn’t the Doctor I sent there, it was

Baris. How come the computer didn’t pick up the train

jumping the tracks? Why didn’t we have alarms?’

‘The train went offline from the network forty-six

hours ago,’ said the operator robot. It opened a large-scale

virtual chart of the monorail system. ‘At the Beriagrad

Zone.’

‘That’s the other side of the planet. How could it go all

that way and not be picked up?’

‘I cannot explain.’ The operator robot’s voice was a

monotone. Its plastic face had no emotion.

Sebastiene looked round. Suddenly, the control room

seemed a large, cold and unfriendly place. Too many

shadows; too many robots. He bit his lip. ‘Find out,’ he

barked at the Butler. ‘And get my transport. I want to be

airborne in ten minutes.’

‘Impact in ten seconds,’ said another robot.

‘Move the first train, the Doctor’s train. Get it out of

there.’

The operator robot looked up. ‘I cannot, my master.

You have ordered that zone to be locked down.’

This time Sebastiene did not just look frightened. His

face was utterly pale, his voice a whisper. ‘Who’s doing

this?’

The Doctor knelt and felt the platform floor. The vibration

made his arm shake. There was a familiar shrieking noise

in the tunnel. The train on the rail was not apparently

going anywhere. He looked up.

‘I’m sorry to break up your cuddles, chaps, but I think

we’re in for quite a sizeable train crash any second now.’

Donna released the man she mistakenly presumed was

her companion. She looked at him for guidance.

‘Don’t worry, Donna,’ Baris said. ‘I’ll get us out of

here. The stairs!’ He pointed and pushed her towards the

exit. He turned, gave a melodramatic look to the tunnel as

if to emphasise its peril; then sprinted away.

‘Oh great,’ said the real Doctor and followed. Surely he

didn’t go in for those kind of theatricals? Mind, he upped

his pace as the whistle of the approaching train grew

louder. And he looked back.

The noise penetrated even above ground. The bland trees

were shaking rain from their branches and leaves. Donna

and Baris ran across the mud towards the hotel.

‘We’ll be safe in there!’ shouted Baris. ‘That building

thing!’

‘The hotel? Are you sure?’ Donna yelled. ‘What if it

collapses?’

She heard a shout from behind. The other Doctor.

‘Don’t go in the hotel!’ he was yelling. ‘Just get on the

ground!’ As if to set an example, that Doctor dived onto

the mud and covered his ears.

‘Into the building,’ insisted Baris, although he did not

actually sound that sure of himself.

The grass in front of them rippled like a gigantic worm

was burrowing underground. Suddenly, the fake cars in

the fake car park jumped and their windows shattered. A

dozen blaring alarms added to the noise. The hotel itself

lurched and a huge crack spread like forked lightning up

from its base. An entire side of hotel room windows fell

out.

By now, the ground wasn’t rippling; it was churning.

‘Donna!’ came a hoarse, tiny voice in the distance.

‘Just... duck!’

She didn’t know why she obeyed; she just did. She

pounced on Baris and dumped him into the mud. Its sticky

damp shoved itself into her face and eyes and up her nose,

just as the ground burst open and they were both lifted on

a raft of turf and shoved a couple of metres backwards.

The noise of the underground explosion was

indescribable.

She hit the ground, or whatever the hard horizontal

thing was, and the air was shunted out of her body.

Because the noise had deafened her, she had a pleasant

few timeless moments of nothingness. That was good; that

was soothing. But all too soon the whistling in her ears

and the mud in her eyes brought Donna back to horrible

reality.

Something was wrong. The ground appeared to be on

top of her. She had been buried. She punched an arm up

through the soil and felt cold rain on her fist. Not allowing

herself to scream and the mud to sink in, she wriggled and

wriggled until she got enough purchase to push her other

arm out. She then spent ten panicked seconds tearing that

mud away. At last, she levered her head up and felt the

wind on her face. Spitting the gritty mud out, she wiped

her eyes clear.

The hotel had been destroyed. Apparently, a silver

vacuum cleaner had come out of the ground and eaten it.

No, not a vacuum cleaner. A hissing, steaming metal

tube train with a flattened front end. The machine lay

broken-backed on top of a pyramid of cheap Bracknell

breeze blocks.

Donna knelt for a while; then managed to stand. She

was caked in filth. The whistling in her ears died down to

be replaced by the crackling of flames from a fire

somewhere under all that brickwork. The monorail was

crushed, wrinkled with dents and full of holes like its hull

had been attacked by a giant tin-opener.

The train had punched right through the lobby of the

Exquisite Traveller. Her old wing had been turned inside

out. The wing next to it still stood, but it was going to

need one hell of a paint job if it was going to attract any

more exquisite travellers. The walls were scarred and

burned black, and all the glass in the windows was

broken.

Donna staggered to the ruined entrance. Cars had been

scattered like toys, overturned, torn and crushed.

She spotted clues as to what once had stood here: half a

sofa, a little potted tree, a battered sign with the words

THE ANCHOR SUITE in scuffed gold letters; all sticking

out of mounds of bricks like grave stones. And a hand.

A woman’s hand, gold rings decorating the middle and

fourth fingers.

‘Sadie,’ Donna breathed.

The hand moved. The fingers flexed.

Donna scrabbled over the concrete ruins. There must be

half a ton of hotel on top of the robot. She didn’t

understand why on earth she would want to help such a

vile creature that wasn’t even alive, but she just couldn’t

stand the idea of anything suffering, even Sadie.

She knelt down and pulled the trembling hand out of

the rubble. She had expected a pull but there was none.

Instead, she fell back, holding the hand at its severed

wrist. As she rolled down the bricks, the hand crawled up

Donna’s arm.

Donna screamed and tore it off. She hurled the hand

away. It flopped into the mud, then turned round as if

trying to locate her again. The fingers scrabbled in the

mud. White fluid dribbled from plastic circuits in the

wrist.

‘That is disgusting,’ Donna said and found herself

laughing. She put her own hand to her mouth to stop the

noise. She didn’t want that thing finding her again. Not

here on her own.

Except of course, she wasn’t on her own. She had

forgotten him.

‘Doctor,’ she whispered.

She turned back to the mound of mud that had buried

her in the field. The same rain was still falling. She

realised that if these fields were real, they should have

been as flooded as paddy fields.

A pair of plimsolls was sticking up in the air. Donna

hoped that this time a body would be attached to them.

She ran to the plimsolls and tore at the mud. How long did

it take to suffocate a man, even a man with two hearts?

How long had he been under there?

At last, she scooped away the soil that was covering his

face. The Doctor was pale but breathing. His eyes were

firmly closed. ‘Wake up!’ she yelled.

The eyes opened.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Donna shrieked

and rolled over. It was the hand, it had to be.

‘We need to think seriously about vacating the

premises,’ said the other Doctor. ‘In an orderly fashion

would be best, but a madcap dash would do.’

Donna couldn’t help it; she smiled. ‘And which one are

you?’

‘The real one,’ he replied.

‘You would say that, though.’

‘I would. Sorry. Know that doesn’t help.’

There was an explosion inside the train; a sharp crack.

The Doctor looked round. ‘I think that train was sent here

to stop us leaving.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because it’s probably Commissar Weimark’s train, and

it disappeared off Sebastiene’s rail network two days ago.

He didn’t notice, but I did. Wondered where it might have

got to.’

Another sharp blast and a metal hole the size of a

dustbin lid blew out the side of one of the compartments.

‘He’s after me,’ said the Doctor. He looked at his double

lying in the mud. ‘Us. He won’t mind taking us both to get

the right one. We’d better bring him.’

Together, they lifted the prone Baris. He gurgled and

spat but didn’t manage full consciousness.

‘Who is this guy?’ asked Donna. ‘And where are we

going? Answers in reverse order, please.’

The Doctor hefted his duplicate onto one of his

shoulders. ‘Blimey, I’m heavy. Grab the other arm.’

‘Doctor?’

‘First question last: we’re heading into what’s left of

the hotel to hide. Our pursuer is a desperately humourless

torturer called Commissar Weimark, who will enjoy

taking his time over killing us. By my reckoning, we’ve

probably got five minutes to find a way out of this

impregnable prison zone. Second question first: his

name’s Baris, and he’s my number one fan.’

There was more metal banging from the train so the

Doctor and Donna got a move on.

The journey had been long, boring and entirely free of

incident. Commissar Weimark had enjoyed it immensely.

For the first time in years, his life was not in danger of

random annihilation by bullet, rocket, mine or bomb. The

precarious day-to-day existence in the Beriagrad Warzone

suited his character, but there was, he realised, something

to be said for the quiet life.

Still, there was the Doctor to think about. Weimark

hadn’t a clue how he was supposed to track his quarry

down across a whole planet. He needed to find out what

was going on in the world. Was he doomed to ride this

train for ever?

The speeding train carriage carried no communication

devices that Weimark could find. He tried talking to his

robot squad, but the soldiers had dropped into some sort

of standby mode. They sat still, eyes closed, propped

against the bouncing carriage walls. Their lack of pretence

unnerved the Commissar.

After a day or so, the Commissar had a thought. He

could just give up the game. Why not?

Sebastiene was not playing fair and, strictly speaking,

this kind of time off from his real work was soon going to

annoy his superiors in Beria. Letting the Doctor go would

be an affront to his pride, but he could live with that.

There was always the possibility that Sebastiene was

up to something. What if this safari for the Doctor was not

what it seemed? What if the whole point of this exercise

was actually to trap someone entirely different? For the

sake of argument, let’s say a highly important, supremely

skilled and dangerous political officer.

Sniffing conspiracy, Weimark decided getting out was

the sensible option.

The problem was that in this sealed compartment there

was no way of communicating his intentions. ‘What

happened to Molecular Technology?’ he asked himself.

‘What happened to transmat here, there and everywhere?’

Then something extraordinary happened. The train

engines increased their whining and the vehicle increased

speed. Big time.

Also, Sergeant Laki perked up. It opened its eyes and

looked at Weimark.

‘Commissar,’ it said in a strangely neutral voice. ‘We

will be arriving in two minutes. You are advised to brace

yourself.’

Suspicious, Weimark drew his pistol. ‘Why?’

‘This train will be crashing at that time. The impact

will be severe.’

‘What game is Sebastiene playing?’ asked the

Commissar. ‘Where are you taking me?’

Laki seemed dazed, his stubbled, weather-beaten face

twitching, as if he was listening to a different voice

entirely – one that existed only in his head. ‘This is no

longer Sebastiene’s game,’ it said. ‘You are advised to

utilise the safety harness.’ Laki looked up at Weimark. ‘I

will now issue your instructions.’

Commissar Weimark listened, shocked by the robot’s

tone. He listened and understood. And then the train

crashed.

Excitement, tension, the thrill of the chase, these were a

few of his favourite things. Oh yes, thought Sebastiene.

He had spent too long cooped up in the Chateau worrying

about screens and traitors and double crosses. Action was

exactly the ticket to get him back into sorts. Get hunting

again; put a new exhibit in the Trophy Room. Why, he

should never have bothered gathering the hunters at all;

should have personally gone for the Doctor from the off.

Sebastiene couldn’t wait to see that smug, smiling stick

insect cold and still and illuminated in his very own

spotlight.

That would stop him worrying how Weimark’s train

had got off the network grid.

The atmosphere craft had not been in the air for over a

year but, thanks to constant maintenance by the robots,

Sebastiene could not tell. Shaped like a boomerang, its

tiny but powerful jets were almost silent as they

compacted and ejected air at an incredible rate. The land

below flowed past like liquid.

‘I should do this more often,’ Sebastiene said aloud.

His eyes, augmented by Planet 1 surgical techniques, were

impeccable. They were digitally aligned with the sights of

his Tauran Hunting Revolver, meaning he was always a

lethal shot without the tiresome bother of having to

practise.

Bored, he flopped into his padded seat. The atmosphere

craft was automatic, so he didn’t even have to pilot the

thing. He thought briefly about taking control and then

decided his mission to capture the Doctor was too

important.

The landscape below never failed to fascinate

Sebastiene. When was the last time he had taken a decent

tour of Planet 1? He had re-shaped the place so often he

could hardly remember what it looked like himself. Half

the zones he sculpted were never completed. He quickly

lost interest after the initial burst of excitement had got a

project on the go.

Planet 1 looked very different now. Communication

and power masts were strung along the surface like lines

of string. Bursts of white and blue lightning were gathered

into unbelievably powerful electrical exchanges –

channelling pure energy into almost infinite-capacity

generators below the planet’s surface. Planet 1 used more

power in a week than most solar systems did in a

generation.

Sebastiene sat back and chewed on his perfect

fingernails. All this for him. He liked that. He liked seeing

the millions of robots down below as they trudged and

toiled without rest. The sight put his worries into

perspective.

What could the Doctor do against him; really? OK, let

him mess about with a train, but that was as far as he was

going.

Sebastiene had him, had him and Baris in an

unbreakable prison zone. One train wasn’t going to breach

the molecular skein that held the area separate. The skein

was a leech; that was its strength. You could throw any

form of energy at the defences and they would absorb that

energy to reinforce themselves. As for getting out: no. Not

possible. Only he could walk out of a Planet 1 exclusion

zone. Some laws could not be broken. The Doctor, Baris

and Donna were in there for good. And he and the hunters

were on their way.

From all corners of Planet 1 they came. The members of

the Society for Endangered Dangerous Species were

bored and fractious and had waited too long. They wanted

blood, and they were damn sure they were going to get it.

In the Chateau control room, the Butler observed the

trains as they converged on their designated zone. The

huge robot kept another eye on Sebastiene’s atmosphere

craft. And across Planet 1, millions of robots went about

their business. All was proceeding exactly according to

plan.

If Commissar Weimark was aware of any rain, he

certainly didn’t let on. In fact, he found the temperate

weather of this pretend Bracknell uncomfortably warm,

wrapped as he was in his leather armour. His only

concession to the humidity was to unwrap the scarf from

around his mouth and loosen the top button of his great

coat. His used the infra-red sights on his rifle to scan for

thermal signals. People.

The reading was indeterminate. There was too much

heat from the train wreck.

Weimark climbed out from the carriage and onto a pile

of rubble. He did not note that the ruins on which he stood

had once been a bland hotel. He would not have cared

anyway.

He whistled and the rest of the squad climbed out from

the wreckage.

Something had broken in one male soldier’s head. The

skull kept dropping backwards between its shoulder

blades. Internal gears whined in a wrong kind of way as

the mechanical muscles hauled it up on its neck again. The

soldier staggered out of the hole in the carriage and

stumbled on the bricks. Inevitably, it slipped and tumbled

all the way down.

‘Sorry, sir,’ it said from the grass.

‘No problem, Private,’ Weimark replied and blew the

robot apart with an explosive bullet. Laki and the two

remaining soldiers looked on.

‘Now then,’ the Commissar continued, ‘let’s find the

Doctor and kill him.’

Careful not to slip, Weimark made his way down the

brick slope.

A light winked on the dashboard. The atmosphere craft

was on approach, through the exclusion-zone barrier and

into descent. Sebastiene expected that the other hunters

had already arrived. No matter.

He checked his appearance in the mirror. Dark was the

motif he had selected for this final round with the Doctor.

Accordingly, he had darkened his moustache black. He

had also changed into a very fetching Edwardian grey

frock coat; a clergyman’s collar (he just couldn’t resist),

and a fetching black top hat with matching brass goggles.

He felt every inch the hunter. ‘You’ll do,’ he whispered,

seeing an irresistibly wicked glint in his eye.

The atmosphere craft touched down with theatrical

steamy hisses and extra-extending landing gear, just for

effect. Sebastiene loaded up and waited for the hatch to

open. He hefted his stylish brass-finish revolver in his

right hand, selected and twirled the stylish wooden

hunting stick in his left, and took a deep breath. The real

game was on. ‘Much more like it,’ he said to his

reflection. ‘What a relief.’

In the still-standing wing of the Exquisite Traveller, the

Doctor and Donna carted Baris up a set of fire stairs.

‘So we’re safer up here, are we?’ asked Donna. The

crash combined with the effort of dragging an

unconscious man had taken the wind out of her.

‘Not really, no,’ the Doctor replied.

‘Then why are we going?’

‘I like stairs. And the Commissar being a thorough man

will undoubtedly start at the bottom and work his way up.

Maybe give us some time.’

‘Maybe we’ll tire him out, all those steps,’ Donna

chuckled, hoisting the dead weight of Baris up another

step.

‘Maybe he’s stair-phobic.’

An explosion rocked the wing.

‘Or he could just blow up the hotel,’ the Doctor

concluded.

Baris groaned as they hauled him through the fire doors

and into a corridor. ‘Come on, mush,’ Donna snapped.

‘This is hurting.’

She fell to her knees on the carpeted floor. ‘Can’t go

on,’ she said. ‘Too tired.’

The Doctor hoisted Baris up, holding an arm against

the wall to take the weight. He looked around and licked

his lips. ‘Into a room. Maybe he won’t blow it up just yet.

304 – does that sound like the kind of room you’d fire a

mortar shell into?’

Donna knelt, catching her breath. ‘You just need a few

minutes, don’t you, to... to work out a way to escape,

yeah?’

The Doctor thumped Baris against the door and barged

it open. ‘Oh no,’ he said absently. ‘This place has a

molecular barrier. No way to get out; not even for me.’

Donna sagged. ‘So we’re finished then. That bloke’s

gonna kill us.’

The Doctor smiled. ‘Looks that way, doesn’t it. Unless

we get him first, of course.’

‘What with?’ she snapped. ‘Courtesy soap?’

‘There’s always a way,’ he replied, serious again.

‘Come on.’

The room was the same as all the others. The Doctor

dropped the moaning, mud-caked Baris onto the bland

bed.

Donna thumped the door shut and didn’t look at her

hideous reflection in the mirror. Instead, she looked at

Baris.

‘We could, you know, hand him over,’ she said.

‘Pretend he’s you.’

‘What?’ the Doctor sounded outraged. He ducked down

and crawled to the smashed window frame. The air

smelled of burning oil.

‘Well, he did frame us both. Bring us here to be killed.’

The Doctor held a finger to his lips, hearing something

she couldn’t.

‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. Something

Sebastiene said to me about Baris.’

‘What?’

‘Well, Sebastiene just could not accept that I could be

the real Doctor; that Baris and I might have swapped

places.’

‘It does seem a little far-fetched,’ Donna said.

‘Oh come on, even his robot servants worked it out.

But Sebastiene insisted that out of all possible

explanations, me being Baris was actually impossible. I

wonder why he thought that? Highly unlikely I grant you,

but given my genius, my ability to triumph...’

‘Yeah yeah,’ she interrupted. ‘You’re you, all right.’

He looked at her. ‘So you have accepted that?’

Donna shrugged. ‘Don’t think I’ve got much choice.

It’s you or the unconscious one, so I damn well hope you

are the real Doctor.’

‘So much for women’s instinct...’

‘Yeah, I’d leave it if I were you. Get back to the

explanation.’

There came a loud crump from downstairs.

‘Concussion grenade,’ said the Doctor. ‘They’re in the

building.’

Donna felt sick. ‘Oh yeah.’

Again, the Doctor seemed to find this fact highly

entertaining.

‘And you haven’t yet thought of an escape plan.’

‘Nope. Not a chance.’

‘Better keep telling me the story then.’

The Doctor nodded. ‘I felt insulted. And mystified.

Why would it be so impossible for me to get the better of

Baris back at Snowcap? Especially as the boy spent so

much time gloating. A child could have—’ He broke off

and looked at Baris.

‘What?’ asked Donna.

She saw that the Doctor was about to start that little

dance thing he did whenever he had a really big idea. He

started to shake. She gestured at him to stay down. He

rolled his eyes. ‘Of course!’

He frog-legged his way to the bed. His image, his

double, was starting to come round. There was a nasty-

looking cut on his forehead, but apart from that Donna

suspected most of the damage was concussion from the

crash. Baris would live.

‘What? What is it?’ she asked.

The Doctor crawled onto the bed and looked at Baris.

He stroked his hair. ‘You brave little idiot,’ he said.

More explosions sounded from down below. This

Commissar wasn’t taking any chances. ‘I don’t get it,’ said

Donna.

‘My number one fan,’ whispered the Doctor. ‘The

clue’s in the title. Baris didn’t want me captured or killed.

He didn’t want to be me. Maybe he wanted to try out

being me, see what it was like for a while, but you don’t

kill your heroes.’

‘Cast all modesty aside for a moment, Doctor,’ said

Donna.

‘Not unless you’re a total moron. Oh yes, Baris was

tempted. Sebastiene is pretty good at temptation.’

She remembered the beautiful man and the honeyed

words. ‘Yeah, I remember.’

‘The offer was too good to refuse. He went through the

surgical procedures, the DNA transfusion, but that would

have been enough for him. The idea that he was going to

be used to hunt me down was too much.’

Donna thought she was catching on. ‘He couldn’t do a

runner...’

‘Not on Planet 1. Sebastiene would have been watching

him all the time.’

‘So he thought up a way to swap places, to give you a

chance.’

The Doctor nodded. He looked at Baris with

admiration. ‘He knows me better than anyone, except

perhaps those who have travelled with me.’

‘Hang on,’ Donna insisted. ‘Don’t even think I know

you.’

‘You’ll learn. You’re young. He knew that if you gloat

at me, I’ll punish you for it. He wanted me to hypnotise

him and swap places. Maybe he even wanted me to think

he was... a... well, a villain. If I knew his real motives, that

he wasn’t really a bad guy, I wouldn’t have the heart to

send him to the hunting zones.’

Baris’s eyes were flickering in their sockets. His mouth

uttered a disturbingly Doctorish groan.

‘That’s a real risk,’ said Donna.

‘Huge,’ said the Doctor. ‘And that’s what Sebastiene

couldn’t understand. What he wouldn’t accept. Sebastiene

is a paranoid sociopath. For him, killing your heroes

would be everything. Anything less would seem insane.

Oh Baris, why would you do that for me?’

Baris looked up at him. ‘You’re the Doctor. You want

to try living in Apartment 4589/DYY Block N in Proxima

City’s Second District for twenty years. You and everyone

else exactly like you; nothing changing, nothing

happening. And then I get offered the chance to be the

Doctor. Wow! I’d do it all again if I had to.’

‘Here, sit up,’ said the Doctor. ‘Get him some water.’

‘From where? The taps ain’t working.’

‘Anywhere. Sit up, Baris, there’s a good fellow. You do

know you’re Baris, don’t you?’

Baris gave the Doctor a bleary smile. ‘I knew you’d get

me out of those zones.’

‘Well, I didn’t have a lot of time to hypnotise you

properly. That beepy stick thing you had was good but

didn’t come with any instructions. All I could do was give

you the ‘Find Donna’ command; program it to loop in if

your real personality started to come through, and send

you on your way. I didn’t do half of the rescuing. You

made it easy for me. I understand now why I got away

with messing about with the computer so much. You’re a

real forward thinker, Baris. Give yourself a pat on the

back.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Baris. ‘Oh, and can I have

your autograph?’

‘Later. I mean those twiddles and override wotsits you

put into the computer system to help me work it so easily.

Thought my number was up when the big Supervisor

tracked me down.’

‘Not me.’

The Doctor smiled. ‘You’re concussed still. Rest easy,

you’ve had a busy day.’

Baris clutched his shoulder. ‘It wasn’t me. I don’t know

how to operate the Planet 1 computer system. Sebastiene

wouldn’t let me near it. Why would he?’

The Doctor’s eyebrows squiggled, like they did when

he was confused.

Donna handed him a cup of water. ‘Don’t ask me

where I got it,’ she said.

Cold air was seeping into the room now from the

smashed window. The explosions downstairs had stopped.

The Doctor was still thinking as he drank the water.

Baris stifled a laugh.

‘That wasn’t for you,’ said Donna.

The Doctor gulped. He stared at the cup in his hand

like it came from another planet. ‘There’s someone else,’

he said.

Commissar Weimark took a while to work out what was

unnerving him, but he got there in the end. There was no

background noise. There was rain, yes, but nothing...

nothing lived here. Nothing at all. Even the icy ruins of

Beriagrad managed to sustain a few birds and rats, those

which avoided being eaten, and when you had lived there

as long as Weimark had, you always heard them. They

were your guide and your warning system; their life

rhythm woven into your fabric. This place had nothing.

Even the grass felt wrong.

Weimark did not concern himself with this knowledge.

He had long learned to ignore any data that did not aid

him in the hunt. If the lack of noise became important, he

would register its existence; otherwise forget it.

The building must once have been a barracks or

meeting house, consisting as it did of identical living

units. His prey was hiding inside. There was nowhere else

for them to go.

‘Inside!’ he shouted, and his squad followed him across

the churned-up gravel of the old car park.

Something moved in a puddle, and Weimark

instinctively fired a shot. Sadie’s robotic hand burst into a

thousand fragments. The Commissar allowed a tight smile

across his white face. Nice at last to shoot something.

Suddenly his day seemed a lot brighter.

The robot squad reached the ruined door. Weimark read

a battered gold sign: ‘Exquisite Traveller’.

He nodded. The Doctor.

Weimark pointed at a soldier, a woman. ‘Stay outside.

Use your motion detector to mark them if they try to slip

out.’

He and Laki and the other private searched the rooms

on the ground floor. They grenaded and flamed wherever

they went. Weimark was impressed. The robots’ combat

programming was as efficient as that of a real Eastern

Mark soldier.

Once satisfied no one was downstairs, Weimark and

Sergeant Laki took a staircase each. The private remained

on the ground floor, to catch any runners.

The Doctor and his allies had taken the coward’s

option. They preferred to run than stand their ground. A

fatal mistake. Statistically a cornered combatant, even an

unarmed combatant, stood a thirty-two per cent better

chance of survival if he confronted his pursuer. Retreat

was the worst course of action.

Two stairwells led up to a single corridor. Closed doors

lined that corridor. His prey was behind one of those

doors.

Laki whistled from the far stairwell. The sergeant held

out a hand to indicate his presence. Weimark whistled

back.

Together, they moved onto the carpet and kicked in

their first doors.

Wood splintered under heavy blows. Somewhere down

the corridor, a gun blasted.

Donna looked at the Doctor. ‘So, escape plan?’

The Doctor was fiddling with the air-conditioning

controls. ‘Can’t you think of something? I’m busy.’

As Donna looked disbelievingly at Baris, he continued.

‘Is it me, or is it getting cold in here?’

‘He’ll find a way,’ said the duplicate. ‘He always does.’

Another crump from a grenade.

‘They’re getting clo-ser,’ Donna sang.

She looked around but the room was the same.

Bathroom door: closed. Window: broken. Telly: off.

Nothing else.

She shivered. ‘Doctor!’

At last, he stopped fiddling. ‘You know what’s

bothering me?’

‘That there’s thirty seconds before hunters kick the

door in and spray us with bullets?’

‘That distress signal. You know; the really loud one.’

Baris was smiling. ‘He’s thinking. He’s doing his

thinking face. Can you put your glasses on? What do you

call them: your clever glasses? Can you do that?’

‘Brainy specs. And shut up.’ Donna felt only mildly

hysterical. ‘Can we do distress signals another time?’

A thump. Much closer.

‘Ooh they’re right on us,’ said Baris, looking at the

Doctor with happy expectation. ‘I wonder what he’s going

to come up with.’

A draught of freezing air shot from under the bathroom

door. The Doctor snapped his fingers. ‘I’ve got it!’ He

stopped to listen. ‘Is there a fly in here?’

Donna held her breath and her patience. ‘I can’t hear

anything.’

‘That’s no fly... that’s robotic...’ Baris climbed off the

bed. He looked at the Doctor, who looked at him. They

both grimaced.

Donna lost it. She put her hands on her hips, leaned her

head back and yelled. ‘Oi! What is going on?’

The Doctors’ mouths opened in toothy surprise.

‘Ssshh!’ they hissed.

Baris blinked. ‘I know what to do,’ he said. ‘For the

first time in my life, I know what to do.’ He dashed to the

door and pulled it open. ‘Make sure you get away.’

‘Baris, no!’ The Doctor ran forward, only for Donna to

jump on him. Together, they bowled into the wall.

‘Go on!’ she yelled. ‘Get going!’

Baris gave Donna a frightened wink. ‘I’m a hero!’ he

said. ‘Maybe they’ll look me up on the neural net. Me.

Baris.’

He darted into the corridor and slammed the door shut.

‘Baris!’ the Doctor shouted. He shoved Donna aside.

They heard Baris yell: ‘Come get me! Come get me

you scum!’ There was an explosion, gunfire and then

quiet. He was gone.

The Doctor jumped up to follow. Donna pinned him

down on the bed. ‘Leave him!’

The Doctor stopped wriggling. He glared at Donna.

‘Why?’

She grabbed his hand to keep him still. ‘That was what

he wanted, can’t you see? He wanted to be the Doctor. To

do what you would do. He wanted to be you.’

He stared at her. Accusing.

‘Don’t...’ she said. ‘I feel rotten enough.’

‘Door,’ said the Doctor and looked at the bathroom

door.

‘What?’

The Doctor freed his hand and stood up. ‘It’s time to

go.’

He opened the bathroom door and Donna gasped.

They had him cold. In the split second before being shot

dead, a small part of his brain bathed in his bravery. At

last, he was the Doctor.

Except, unlike the real Doctor, he wasn’t going to

overturn the odds and pull through. In fact, his plan relied

on his being killed.

Baris recalled his dull, grey suburban existence back on

Proxima. The years of dreaming. Comfortable, safe, but

not enough. Not nearly enough. Here on Planet 1, Baris

had just made a difference. The Doctor and Donna were

safe because of him. He was their Doctor.

Ahead, a soldier stepped out from a room. His face was

impassive as he blocked any escape.

Baris was aware of fear growing cold in his stomach.

Even that fear felt right. He found he wanted to remember

the details of this moment: the sound of flames, the

dreadful weave of the carpet, the smell of the thick smoky

air.

The fly that wasn’t a fly buzzed in Baris’s ear. The

soldier raised his rifle and aimed. Baris didn’t care. ‘You

wouldn’t be the first,’ he said. ‘Go on then.’

The fly noise whipped by his ear to the man holding

the rifle. As Baris waited for death, the soldier flinched

and his robotic head blew up.

Weimark cursed. Once again luck was against him. The

Doctor had run to Laki and not to him. The Commissar

ran out of the burning room to see the sergeant all set to

gun his target down. Despite having given the order,

Weimark was disappointed. He would not personally be

the man to get the last Time Lord. Trapped in the corridor,

the Doctor could only wait for the bullet.

Except that, for no reason whatsoever, Laki’s head

burst apart.

Sparks and metal and fluid flew in all directions in a

halo of energy. The sergeant dropped his rifle, staggered

and tumbled. The Doctor looked as surprised as anyone.

He turned, saw Weimark and ran.

Weimark raised his weapon. He heard an insect’s buzz

and saw a tiny ripple in the air heading straight at him. He

threw himself to one side, still managing a snap shot at the

retreating Doctor. The bullet blew a chunk out of the wall,

but that was the extent of its damage. The Doctor

disappeared round the corner and down the stairs.

The buzz grew louder again. Some kind of miniature

missile. Tiny but devastating if it went off in the right

place – say a neck or a head. Someone had some

interesting toys.

Weimark rolled and listened for the buzz. He

concentrated on its sound and, as it swooped, he pulled his

pistol and fired. The air in front of the Commissar burst

into flame, its expanding fire washing over him. Weimark

blinked at the pain and slapped his burning face with his

gloved hands. He had hit the micro-missile at the last vital

second.

‘Damn you!’ he yelled as he rubbed his eyes. Water

poured from the dark sockets. His skull felt singed raw.

Weimark blinked the tears away. Ignoring the pain, he

picked himself up.

Commissar Weimark was going to get that Doctor, if it

was the last thing he ever did.

Giddy with excitement, almost wetting himself with terror

and laughing like a loon, Baris bounced down the stairs.

The smashed windows blew rain and wind over him, and

the thick patterned carpet squelched beneath his feet.

He had escaped after all. Heaven only knew what he

was going to do next, but he had escaped.

A second soldier appeared at the foot of the stairs. Yet

another gun was pointed at him.

Super-confident now, Baris jumped out of the first-

floor window.

He dropped head first towards a mound of bricks. They

looked very hard and although some distance below,

approached very quickly.

At this point, he was willing to accept that perhaps he

had been just a little too confident. Being the Doctor had

gone to his head – a situation that was about to be rather

brutally rectified. Baris held his arms out in a futile

attempt to cushion the impact, knowing already he was

doomed.

Energy hummed around him and, as he should have hit

the bricks, he bounced as if he had landed on an invisible

trampoline.

Baris cartwheeled down the brick slope, cocooned in a

flickering blue light. He was caught in an energy bubble.

‘There you are, old chap,’ said a voice Baris had not

heard in a long time.

Sebastiene, resplendent in his new black hunting outfit,

was manipulating his bracelet. The energy bubble rolled

down the rubble slope to stop at Sebastiene’s feet, next to

another dead robot soldier. ‘Game over,’ said the hunter.

Wriggling himself upright, aware that rain was sliding

down the bubble around him, Baris tried to clear his head.

Even the Doctor didn’t face death three times in one

minute. Well, not normally.

‘You’ve proved quite a challenge,’ said Sebastiene.

‘Jolly good for you.’ He smiled a deep, white-toothed

smile.

Baris collected his thoughts. ‘Wrong one,’ he said. ‘I’m

Baris.’

A flicker of irritation crossed Sebastiene’s perfect face.

He was thinking through the possibilities. ‘Nice try,’ he

said. ‘But we’re done. Baris only looks like the Doctor; he

doesn’t act like him. Did you like my midge-missiles?’

Baris smiled. ‘You don’t know anything. Something

has happened. There’s another player. We’re all being

manipulated. Especially you.’

Sebastiene blinked in the rain. He tapped his bracelet.

‘Prepare to open the zone,’ he commanded. ‘I’m in charge

here, Baris. I’ve always been in charge here and don’t you

forget it...’

Baris heard a metallic click. Sebastiene’s chest erupted

and the ruler of Planet 1 was hurled into the mud, hat

flying off. He clutched the ground; fingers digging into

the earth in shock. ‘Now that’s damned inconvenient,’

Sebastiene sighed and stopped moving.

The bubble around Baris fizzed and he rolled over.

Upside down, he saw the hotel and the white blob of a

face leaning out from a window. Commissar Weimark

ejected the spent cartridge from his rifle and punched the

air; the first emotion Baris had ever seen in his pursuer.

‘I win!’ screamed the Commissar. ‘I win!’

Baris then heard a cluster of buzzing sounds, saw

Commissar Weimark flap at his face, and the whole

building exploded.

‘How could you know?’ Donna demanded. ‘No one

could possibly know.’

‘What do you mean? Know what?’

‘Come on, you planned the whole escape all along.’

‘I didn’t plan anything.’ The Doctor stopped and wiped

frozen moisture from his face. ‘It wasn’t that hard to

figure out.’

‘That you open a door in a Bracknell hotel bathroom

and boom: there’s the Antarctic? Drifts, glaciers,

crevasses, the works? Do I look stupid?’

They were trudging through snow again. The Doctor

was determined; he was on a mission.

Donna still wasn’t sure he had forgiven her for the fight

in the bedroom. She wasn’t sure she forgave herself. ‘If

I’d let you stop Baris, he’d have come through the door

with us. He’d still be alive, wouldn’t he?’

The Doctor stopped and smiled. ‘Like you said, he did

what he wanted to do. It’s not your fault.’

‘How was I supposed to know?’ she moaned.

‘You just had to think it through,’ he said. ‘I thought it

through.’

Donna grabbed him. She was now freezing and was

astounded how warm he felt. ‘Look, this is the Antarctic,

right? Where we first appeared?’

‘Well...’

‘There’s a base around here with a big scary monster in

it, right? It’s Earth, yeah?’

The Doctor took a deep breath. ‘There’s a base with a

big scary monster somewhere... but this is not the Earth. It

never was.’

Never mind the cold. She stopped and poked his chest.

‘Explanation,’ she demanded. ‘In English. Right now.’

The Doctor smiled. ‘You’ll freeze to death standing

there looking all stern.’

‘I don’t care. Tell me. And don’t give me that “there’s

not a moment to lose”. If this ain’t the Earth, where on

Earth are we?’

The Doctor gave Donna his special ‘let-me-off’ look

but she wasn’t having any of it. ‘And don’t give me that

handsome face ’cos it don’t work on me, mister.’

He put his hands in his pockets and kicked some snow.

‘You never quite grasped the fact that you weren’t in

Bracknell, did you? Be honest.’

‘Was I asking about Bracknell? If this ain’t the South

Pole, where is it?’

‘Planet 1,’ he said. ‘Can we go now?’ He pointed. ‘Ah,

there’s a chimney.’

By now, Donna’s teeth were chattering so hard she

could hardly speak. ‘W-w-what’s Planet W-w-w-won?’

‘Sebastiene’s planet.’

‘You said we were on Earth. I distinctly heard you say

it. In the TARDIS.’

The Doctor looked hurt. ‘He fooled me. I don’t know

how, but he fooled me. I don’t like that. Let’s get you

warm.’

The snow next to them burst into flame. Donna and the

Doctor pitched over into the snow. Donna screeched with

shock.

‘I didn’t mean it literally!’ she heard the Doctor shout.

‘Donna, stay down!’

‘Who was that?’ she asked.

‘Hunter.’ He crawled to her, looking around. ‘I imagine

Sebastiene has called them all here in the hope that—’

The snow exploded again. The Doctor flinched as he

was showered with wet, white powder. ‘Long way off and

trying to scare not kill. We need to get inside.’

Donna grabbed his wet arm. ‘There’s a monster in that

base!’

He smiled. ‘Yes, but I contained it in a sonic stasis

field. Ah, there’s the hatch. Come on!’

He hauled her up just as the third explosion rocked the

ground.

Colonel Sty of the Bolken Context brushed the snow off

his thick hide. As the cold did not affect him, he had

decided to use his thick rubbery skin as an advantage and

dig in. He had hoped to capture the Doctor before the

Time Lord went underground.

Colonel Sty looked at his rifle. The weapon must be

malfunctioning. He did not comprehend. The computer

inside calculated every possible force that would affect the

explosive bullet’s trajectory, be it range, wind speed or

atmospheric pressure. The rifle was even vacuum sealed

to enable space firing. He should have hit the Doctor three

times.

Not daunted, Colonel Sty snapped the expensive

weapon in half. He threw the pieces into the snow. ‘We’ll

do this the old-fashioned way.’ He unsheathed his Krat

dagger and stood up. ‘Hello old friend,’ he said,

remembering the blood he had taken with it. Colonel Sty

of the Bolken Context began to march.

As he did so, Zzorg Zero, who was hovering over the

Colonel, dropped a plasma bead onto his striding head and

blew his fellow Society member to smithereens.

‘One lesszz,’ the creature buzzed and landed in the

snow.

The Doctor let Donna climb down the Snowcap Base

ladder first. Which was unlucky for her as her feet

triggered an energy net on the steps. A sticky metal web

enveloped her. Struggling, she fell and hit the ruined tiles

on the floor with a crunch.

The Doctor looked down into the gloomy base. Hands

yanked Donna out of view. They intended to use her as a

hostage. Sebastiene had summoned the hunters here to

wrap the game up.

Well, that was just fine.

The Doctor stood in the cold light, snow swirling

around him. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘No more running.’

Nothing. No movement or sound of any kind. He felt as

if Planet 1 itself was holding its breath.

‘One warning!’ the Doctor shouted. ‘Leave now or

never leave.’

He climbed slowly; each tread deliberate and solid. The

metal ladder rang with his footsteps. His plimsolls

splashed onto the puddled floor. Snowcap Base was dark,

the emergency strip lights smashed either by Sebastiene’s

monster or a hunter seeking cover.

They were hiding in the shadows; he could sense them.

They were watching and waiting.

‘Never leave, then,’ he told the dark. ‘The Society for

Endangered Dangerous Species? You’re the endangered

species now. I’ve destroyed worlds, civilisations; my own

people. So run; run and hide because now I’m hunting

you. Fear me. I’m the Doctor and I’m coming for you. All

of you.’

He turned and pointed the sonic screwdriver up at the

hatch. Zzorg Zero, who had crept up to the edge, screamed

in pain as the reinforced metal lid dropped onto his front

legs. Pieces of insect feet floated down. Pinned by the

immense weight, Zzorg Zero squirmed and wailed, his

wings thrashing feebly against metal.

The Doctor twisted the sonic screwdriver. A great roar

erupted deep inside Snowcap Base. The sonic field

holding Sebastiene’s monster was gone. ‘I’m coming,’ he

said. ‘And hell’s coming with me.’

The Doctor walked into the darkness.

The Society for Endangered Dangerous Species fled in

terror. Their plans, their lures, were in disarray. What had

they been thinking? To take on the Doctor? Madness.

How had they allowed Sebastiene to fool them into

believing they could trap him? And now there was no way

out.

They ran anyway.

Two hunters collided in a scramble for an exit and

shoved blades into each other before they had time to

think. Three more ran straight down into the lower levels,

where Sebastiene’s pet Thing eagerly received them.

Only one hunter kept a cool head. This final hunter was

either arrogant or stupid enough to believe it could still

win the game. The trick was to keep waiting. Wait until

exactly the right time.

The Doctor walked the tunnels of this fake Snowcap

Base. He never faltered and never turned aside. He walked

until he found Donna.

‘Doctor?’ she asked, crumpled up in the energy net and

shoved into a crack in the floorboards.

His face was in shadow as he leaned towards her.

‘You look different...’ she said, suddenly afraid.

Only when he appeared in the light, he was all smiles.

‘Donna. Donna Noble. I’m really glad to know you.’

He cut the net apart with the sonic screwdriver and

helped her to her feet.

‘What did you do?’ she asked.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘The Society disbanded.’

She hugged him, although she wasn’t quite sure why.

‘So what do we do now?’ she asked. ‘Sit round a camp

fire and “be there” for each other?’

They walked through the wrecked remains of Snowcap

Base. Nothing moved here now. Even the monster had

gone. Well, Donna hoped it had gone. The Doctor led her

down stairs and along corridors until they found a

seriously mashed-up laboratory with what looked like a

hollowed-out ice cube rapidly melting over a table.

Donna could see all too clearly what had happened.

The creature inside the ice cube had lurched straight

upwards, smashing a hole in the ceiling. It must have been

one hell of a fight. There wasn’t a single item of

equipment in here that wasn’t wrecked.

‘What happened to the men? You know: the guys who

lived here?’

The Doctor dropped the twisted, wiry internal heart of

a computer onto the floor, knelt down, put on his brainy

specs and began to work. ‘There weren’t any men. Just

robots. Sebastiene’s toys. Like all spoilt little boys,

breaking his toys is easy because he knows he’ll just get

bought some more. Snowcap Base and the ice creature

were just bait for his ridiculous safari. The worm to tempt

us onto the fishing line. Or should that be fishing hook?’

He shook his head. ‘What a rubbish lure. I can think of a

billion less complicated and more effective ways to reel

me in.’

Donna knelt down in front of the wiring. ‘What’s that?

A lash-up? An improvised wotsit to signal the TARDIS?’

The Doctor threw the machine away. ‘Nah, I was trying

to get Radio 2. We’re just waiting for Sebastiene. I want a

word with him.’

He must have seen how much his words had deflated

her, because he plonked a half-broken beaker onto a

twisted tripod. He reached into his jacket and produced a

little paper packet, which he waggled in front of her. ‘See

if you can find some water,’ he said. ‘I’ll make us a cup of

tea.’

The night passed slowly. At least, Donna guessed it was

night; she couldn’t really tell. Night just seemed to suit the

way time went in Snowcap Base. And it went slowly.

‘Who is Sebastiene?’ she asked, when the Doctor had

woken her up for the third time with his infernal fidgeting.

‘I mean, I don’t know at all. He told me he was a scientist

from Earth in 1973. That wasn’t true, was it?’

The Doctor watched her stretch and yawn and listened

to the cracks in her vertebrae as she stretched her spine.

‘Perhaps he was,’ he replied. ‘Once. But you know how

these legends are. I mean, every planet’s got a legend

about Sebastiene and Planet 1.’

‘I haven’t. I mean, we haven’t.’

‘Every civilised planet. You lot are too busy watching

Jamie’s Home Cooking to take any notice of what’s

actually going on the universe. Mind you, he does run up

a mean pasta bake.’

‘Sebastiene?’

‘Jamie! I remember this party in Tuscany...’

‘Doctor!’

The Doctor rubbed his chin. ‘I don’t think Sebastiene

really knows who he is himself. He thinks he does; but he

doesn’t. He said something to me once; he said: ‘I am

incapable of taking anything at face value’. I didn’t think

anything of it at the time but now I’m not so sure.’

‘What do you mean?’

The Doctor laughed. ‘He simply couldn’t accept that I

could have switched places with Baris at the Chateau.

That thinking was beyond him. There had to be a hidden

plan... the Doctor Trap. I think Sebastiene literally cannot

accept anything at face value. He’s not made that way.’

It took a moment, but Donna got there. ‘ Made that

way?’

‘We’re all made in some way or another. Drink your

tea. I don’t want to say until I’m sure.’

‘Doctor?’ she asked. ‘What is the Doctor Trap? There’s

no such thing, is there? You made it up, right?’

He took a gulp of tea. ‘Of course there’s a Doctor

Trap.’

‘What is it then?’

‘Donna,’ he said. ‘It’s the nagging doubt. The Doctor

Trap is what you think they know and you don’t. It’s being

sure the other person is getting one over on you.’

‘So it’s what they know and you don’t.’

‘No. It’s what you think they know. It’s what you think

they’ve got over you. The Doctor Trap. I’m rather proud

of having coined the phrase, now I come to think of it.’

‘How about the door in the hotel?’ she asked. ‘Come

on. And who is this other person you mentioned? You

know, the one who you think is really controlling

everything?’

‘I didn’t say it was a person.’ His voice was mock-

mysterious; full of humour. The Doctor looked up at the

ruined ceiling and yelled. ‘Come on, Sebastiene! Bored!’

Nothing. The silence was so great Donna thought she

could hear the blizzard raging a hundred metres overhead.

‘You’re enjoying this,’ she said, realising it was true.

There came a metallic clang from above. Donna

shrieked. ‘Someone’s coming!’

The Doctor dusted himself down. He took off his

brainy specs. ‘About time,’ he said. ‘Let’s go to work.’

A man walked in through the ruined doorway.

‘Been waiting for you,’ said the Doctor. He lay on a

damaged table, scrutinising the ceiling.

Sebastiene was smiling. He was dressed in dark clothes

now, with a black wide-brimmed hat. He held a strange

brass pistol. Donna had to admit he looked mighty fine.

‘So, here we are,’ he said. He looked at her. ‘Hello

again, Donna Noble. No hard feelings?’

‘Get lost,’ she growled.

‘Hard feelings then. Oh well. Brought someone...’

He stood aside and the Doctor walked in, looking

sheepish and forlorn. No, she had to remember. Baris.

Donna could have died. ‘You made it!’ she squealed. ‘I

don’t believe it!’

Baris did not reply. He looked frightened. Very

frightened.

Sebastiene laughed. ‘Lighten up! This is a party! We

should have pop and cakes, isn’t that how you do it in

London, Donna?’

‘What exactly are we celebrating?’ she asked.

Sebastiene was inspecting the damaged room. ‘Ouch,’

he muttered. ‘Someone really went to town, didn’t they?’

She saw what they were up to, the pair of them,

Sebastiene and the Doctor. They were playing tough guys;

pretending the other was too small to be a threat. Both as

bad as each other.

‘Celebrating?’ Sebastiene continued. ‘Why, the

Doctor’s triumph of course. Got to hand it to you, sir. You

really are the bee’s knees. The entire Society for

Endangered Dangerous Species. I hoped you would best

them, but I didn’t really believe it.’

‘He’s scared,’ said Baris. ‘He’s afraid of you, Doctor.’

Sebastiene gave Baris a stare. ‘Now, now, old chap.

Behave. Or I may be forced to chastise you.’ Baris

cringed.

Sebastiene looked at the table where the Doctor was

lying. ‘What do you say? Back to the Chateau for a glass

of bubbly?’

The Doctor said nothing.

Sebastiene was still smiling but his eyes were cold and

dark. ‘What’s up, old chap? You won, didn’t you?’

The Doctor did not look up. He seemed to be asleep;

until he spoke. ‘Sorry, mate. I only speak to the organ

grinder, not the monkey.’

Donna saw Sebastiene flinch. He had lost his temper

but fought to conceal it. ‘I am the organ grinder. I could

kill you instantly, of course.’

The Doctor swung himself off the table. ‘Well, you

might have been able to once upon a time, but cleverly

you switched off the Intelligent Molecular Technology. So

no more point and click.’ He pointed a finger at Sebastiene

and said: ‘Boom.’

Sebastiene raised his pistol. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s

skip the pleasantries. The Trophy Room beckons.’

Baris took a step forward. ‘Doctor, Weimark shot him.

Right in front of me. I saw him die...’

Sebastiene fired at Baris who glowed red, screamed in

pain, then disappeared.

Donna let out a roar of anger and charged at

Sebastiene. Amused, he rolled away and kicked her in the

right knee. She dropped like a stone. Agonising fire shot

up her leg. She moaned.

‘Do shut up, there’s a good girl,’ said Sebastiene,

dusting himself down.

Donna put out a hand. ‘Yeah, a little help here, please.’

She tried to move, but the Doctor glared at her. She got

the message: stay down. For once in her life, she did what

she was told. Whatever was going on here was beyond

her. Be nice if they could give her something for her leg,

though.

‘How do you know you got the right Doctor?’ asked

the Doctor. ‘You might have killed the real one. Wouldn’t

exactly be a successful end to the safari would it?’

‘He’s not dead. This gun gives me limited transmat

capacity. I’ve just popped him off for a while. So even if

he is the real you, I’ll have you both. I win whatever.’

‘So you were killed?’ The Doctor spoke as if Baris had

confirmed a suspicion. ‘How d’you get over that then?

Reincarnation?’

Sebastiene looked bored. ‘I rule Planet 1. I have lots of

nice nano-technology inside that augments my body.

Don’t ask me to explain it; far too boring. You think the

planet would let me die? Look, I’d love to stand around

and chat, but this really is a very dreary place and I’m

dying to get you on display. Move.’

The Doctor stayed still. ‘Why do you think Commissar

Weimark shot you when he would have thought I was

standing right next to you?’

Sebastiene shook his head. ‘A little less conversation, a

little more action... Bye-bye.’ He held up the gun again

and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Blinking, Sebastiene tried again. The gun still failed to

fire.

The Doctor put his hands behind his back. ‘You’ve

already lost everything, and you still don’t know it. Let

me tell you why the Commissar hit you and not me. Well,

Baris, really, but as good as...’

‘Oh please,’ said Sebastiene, starting to look flustered

but fighting it. ‘Enlighten me. Let me learn from you...’

‘You were his target.’

Sebastiene snarled and threw the gun aside. ‘All right,

we’ll do this the traditional way.’ From his coat,

Sebastiene produced a smaller, deadlier-looking pistol.

‘You know what? I’m going to do something I should

have done ages ago. Right or wrong Doctor, I’m just

going to kill you, because I’m sick of hearing your voice.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ said the Doctor. ‘Because I think you’re

going to need my help.’

Sebastiene laughed. ‘Oh, of course I will. I mean, I just

run the planet and who... who are you?’

The Doctor sniffed. ‘Oh, I’m no one. Except I don’t

think you run the planet any more.’

Donna thought Sebastiene was going to shoot, she

really did. Here in the dark of this ruined base, she

thought the Doctor was really about to die.

Instead, however, Sebastiene saw sense.

He had so many plans. There was so much to do. Planet 1

was his; had always been his. What was Planet 1 without

Sebastiene? What was Sebastiene without Planet 1?

What was he?

‘This had better be good,’ he warned the Doctor.

‘If you want my real advice, we should stop wasting

time talking and get to the TARDIS. Is it in the Chateau?’

‘Not yet.’ Sebastiene had to keep his face from

twitching. This was still the game. The Doctor Trap. ‘Give

me one good reason I should believe you.’

‘You won’t like it,’ came the reply. The Doctor moved

to help his friend. ‘Do you mind, she is in pain.’

‘I’ll shoot her dead if you do anything I don’t like,’

Sebastiene warned. ‘I am an excellent shot.’

The Doctor helped Donna to a broken chair. She was

rubbing her wounded leg and looking daggers at

Sebastiene. Let her.

‘Come on then, Doctor,’ he said. ‘Where’s this

evidence that’s going to blow my socks off?’

‘All right. The hunters were offered a new challenge.

Why bother chasing me and get whatever scraps you were

offering? Why not try for a new trophy: Planet 1 itself?

Planet 1 is nothing without its ruler, its organising

principle, its... heart. All the technology in the universe is

no use without a creative mind to put it to good use.’

‘Are you here to warn me or compliment me?’

Sebastiene sniffed. He knew he was vain enough to be

tickled by the Doctor’s words. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘my genius

is vital to the legend.’

‘How old are you, Sebastiene?’ asked the Doctor.

‘When was the last time you did anything because you

needed to, instead of because you couldn’t think of

anything better?’

‘Here we go...’ Sebastiene yawned. ‘The moral.’

‘Donna says you told her you’re from Earth.’

‘Possibly,’ he replied.

‘You did,’ she said.

‘What does it matter?’ Sebastiene didn’t like these

questions. ‘More games, more fudges. Get on with it.’

‘It matters to you, I think,’ said the Doctor. ‘Because I

think you’re a robot.’

Sebastiene nearly shot him there and then. Not because

he couldn’t believe the Doctor but because he could.

‘I’m me,’ he insisted. ‘I’m Sebastiene.’

‘No,’ said the Doctor. ‘You’re a robot who thinks he’s

Sebastiene.’

Outside, thunder rumbled. Oh very good, very gothic,

thought Sebastiene. The planet reflects my inner emotions.

‘You’re lying,’ he said.

‘Am I?’ the Doctor replied. ‘How do you know? Why

can’t it be true? You’re always looking for the meaning

behind the meaning; the real story. After all, you thought I

was Baris. You couldn’t tell us apart...’

‘No one could!’ Sebastiene heard himself shriek.

‘Your Butler could. So could the Supervisor. But you

couldn’t. Your programming wouldn’t let you.’

Sebastiene felt something like water rising in his head

and blurring his brain. Fear. Genuine unadulterated fear. It

couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

‘I’m flesh and blood, you idiot,’ he told the Doctor.

‘I’m organic.’

‘No. You’re just a very, very expertly constructed... er...

construct. You believe you are real because Planet 1

programs you to believe you’re real. How else do you

think you survived Weimark’s bullet? Nano-technology in

your bloodstream? Come on...’

Sebastiene needed to get out of this dingy place; he

needed fresh air and someone to hit. How could he

convince them? When everything he said could be put

down to programming?

‘Let’s face it, Sebastiene. If Planet 1 is best at anything,

it’s best at building brilliant robots really quickly. There

are robot workshops all over the place. There’s probably

loads of replacement Sebastienes in storage who all

believe they’re the real thing. Save a fortune on bus fares.’

Sebastiene raised the bracelet again. ‘Comms terminal!’

he yelled. ‘Now!’

The table in the centre of the room split and fell as the

ground lifted. A surprised Donna was raised upwards and

tipped out of her chair. ‘Awww!’ she bawled, falling into a

pile of wrecked, and sharp, lab equipment. ‘Why is it

always me?’

Lights flickered and a hologram shuddered into life.

The Butler’s head appeared in transparent colour. ‘My

master?’ it asked.

‘Immediate restructure in the Snowcap Zone. Get an

atmosphere craft here; I want to come home. It’s cold and

I’m fed up.’

The Butler just stared. The holograph flickered.

‘Well?’ Sebastiene demanded.

The Butler smiled. A really cheery smile. ‘I don’t think

I want to do what you tell me today, Sebastiene.’

Malfunction. Had to be. It had happened before. The

technology was brilliant but not perfect.

‘What?’ Sebastiene asked coldly. ‘How dare you.’

‘Get lost,’ the Butler replied. ‘Or better still, stay there.

I’ll send someone to warm you up.’

The holograph went dead.

‘Oh dear,’ said Donna, not bothering to conceal the

smile.

Sebastiene fired a bullet into the machine. He felt anger

overwhelm the fear. ‘What’s going on here? Am I master

or aren’t I?’

He swung round, arms outstretched, daring the planet

to respond.

‘Not any more, it seems,’ said the Doctor. ‘And the

answer to the question of how a door in a hotel can open

onto an Antarctic snow scene is that it’s a transmat portal

and Planet 1 put it there for me.’

Sebastiene didn’t want to believe. But he did believe.

The Doctor looked almost sorry. ‘You see, I don’t think

you rule very much any more.’ He rolled his hands into a

pretend megaphone. ‘Come in, Sebastiene, your time is

up.’

Donna gasped. ‘I get it! I get the whole thing. The

Doctor Trap. The safari. The planet wants you to take

over.’ Sebastiene barely heard her.

‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘I think it does. I guess I’m next

in line. Fresh blood. Sorry,’ he winced at Sebastiene. ‘I

think your planet’s bored of you.’

Donna almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Sebastiene

looked around. His full bottom lip quivered, with anger or

grief she couldn’t tell.

‘How dare you...’ he whispered.

‘We should escape,’ said Donna.

‘How dare you!’ Sebastiene screamed. He worked his

way systematically round the lab, wrecking the wreckage.

He went absolutely mad. ‘I rule here! Me! I’m in charge,

I’ve always been in charge!’ He turned to Donna, who

winced. The rage in those eyes defied sanity. Although he

spoke to her, she realised he wasn’t even seeing her. ‘I am

Planet 1,’ he snarled. ‘Planet 1 is me. I’ll destroy it before

I give it up. I’ll tear this world apart with my bare hands if

I have to.’

Donna felt a thump overhead and the base shook

‘Missiles, I imagine,’ said the Doctor. ‘The Butler

having some fun. I bet they’re blowing the upper levels,

sealing us down here, ready to send in the cavalry. ‘He

clapped his hands. ‘Escape; now that’s a great idea.’

‘How?’ Donna managed to stand. She pointed to the

staring Sebastiene; who appeared to have fallen into some

kind of trance.

‘There’s only one way out for all of us, Sebastiene,’

said the Doctor. ‘The TARDIS. Only I don’t know where

you’ve put it.’

Sebastiene said nothing. The turmoil in his head was

taking his whole concentration. He muttered to himself.

‘You’re mine... you don’t tire of me; oh no...’

The base shook again. Dust fell from the ceiling.

‘The robots think the TARDIS is in the conference

room,’ said the Doctor. ‘But it’s not, is it? You’re

Sebastiene. You wouldn’t just leave her lying around like

that.’

Sebastiene ignored him.

The Doctor pulled him round. ‘Listen to me. You can

have your revenge, but we have to get away. Now tell me

you didn’t leave the TARDIS in the Chateau, did you?’

‘Chateau, yes. Must get there... take... take the IMT...’

‘Sebastiene! Where is the TARDIS?’

‘It’s here,’ Sebastiene replied. ‘Where you materialised;

covered by a cloaking device. It’s out there in the snow.’

The Doctor squeezed his hand. ‘Good old Sebastiene. I

knew we could rely on you to be as sneaky and underhand

as humanly – or robotically – possible.’

‘Hang on,’ said Donna. ‘Won’t Planet 1 just move it

somewhere else?’

‘If I’m right, Planet 1 can’t move it because Sebastiene

will have put one of his little impenetrable security things

round it. Our man here would have to unlock it in person,

like the prison zone. I guess. Or rather, I hope.’

Sebastiene was muttering. ‘Yes, take the TARDIS.

Regroup, plan the counter-attack. The Chateau is the key...

we get to the Chateau, overrides...’

‘Sebastiene,’ said the Doctor. ‘We need to leave now. If

we stay, we’re finished. You must know another exit.

Something the robots don’t know about.’

‘He can’t hear us,’ said Donna. ‘He’s gone.’

The Butler was enjoying itself. It found the new emotion

exhilarating. Just for fun, the robot dialled the holograph

in the base lab again but someone, presumably Sebastiene,

had broken the projector.

The Butler was skull-docked in the control room

watching three robot armies close in on the Snowcap

Zone. Orders had been given to restore IMT functions and

in six hours the atmospheric blocking crystals would be

flushed out. The transmat would be up and running within

a day, and Planet 1 would soon be back to normal.

Sebastiene? Well, Sebastiene would be gone.

The Butler closed down the strategy screen and was

about to remove the skull-dock when, on impulse, it

double-checked the conference room. The captured

TARDIS was still within, where it had remained since the

day the Doctor arrived. Its presence reassured the robot.

Even if he should escape the armies, the Doctor had to

return to the Chateau. Hopefully he would bring

Sebastiene with him.

The Butler was looking forward to the brave new world

the Doctor would help them build. Away with all the

decadence and frippery and selfishness of old. The Butler

loved the idea that, with the Doctor being who he was,

Planet 1 might become a good planet, a planet that helped,

even a selfless planet. Be nice to do something positive

for a change.

The robot looked round for reassurance. The control

room was bustling normally. The Butler undocked.

Soon they could get rid of all these messy consoles and

go back to air-screens. After a while, it realised, they

could get rid of a physical control room completely.

An energy web hummed in the centre of the room.

Baris floated inside; watching.

‘You’ve got the wrong man,’ he said again. ‘I’m the

Doctor; release me.’

‘Now, now, Baris,’ said the Butler. ‘There’s a good

boy.’

‘You don’t understand: this is all part of my plan. I’m

giving you one more chance. Release me or suffer the

consequences. That one at Snowcap, that’s Baris. You

missed a switch; you all did.’

The Butler froze. What if Baris was right? What if this

was just another facet of this incredibly complicated

Doctor Trap? That would mean everything the robot did

was contributing to its own downfall. The whole of Planet

1 could...

The Butler chuckled. ‘Well, you’re certainly as

annoying as the real Doctor but... no. Not any more.’

Atmosphere craft landed on the snow. Hundreds of them.

They surrounded Snowcap Base. Before the engines even

cooled, the doors were open and security robots were

pouring out through clouds of frozen moisture. Thermal

imaging units were activated. If the humans were inside,

the robots would find them. Smoke drifted up from the

base chimneys: gas dropped down the pipes to stun any

organic life forms below.

Luckily, the Doctor and Donna and Sebastiene were no

longer below.

After a decent interval, the Doctor blew out the snow

that had fallen into his mouth and sat up. He had covered

himself in a drift to observe the landings. The atmosphere

craft looked like sycamore seeds spinning in the distance.

Occasionally, a squadron flew overhead, but where they

weren’t looking, they wouldn’t find.

He brushed a dewy icicle from the end of his nose and

trudged back to the concealed Snow-Cat. They had spent a

good hour of back-breaking labour covering the vehicle

after the Doctor had dropped it into a crevasse. The thing

was wedged in tight.

The Doctor jumped down onto the roof and kicked

away the snow. ‘How we all doing?’

Donna was moaning, of course. He hauled her out of

the tiny gap in the door.

‘Although the camouflage idea was a winner in theory,’

she said in a prissy voice, ‘we ain’t never going to be able

to drive this thing again. How do you even know where

the TARDIS is?’

‘Because I’m really good at remembering where I left

the TARDIS. Even if it is invisible.’

Sebastiene climbed up onto the roof. He looked at the

plumes of smoke that marked the base. ‘Won’t take them

long to realise we’re not there. They will have expected us

to get out.’

‘You seem to be feeling a lot better,’ said Donna.

She changed her mind when he smiled at her. He was

calm for now, but there was extreme violence in

Sebastiene, ready to emerge.

The Doctor clapped his hands. ‘No worries. This is the

exact spot where the TARDIS landed.’

‘How do you know?’ Sebastiene asked. ‘Have you got

some sort of symbiotic telepathic link?’

‘Naah,’ he replied. ‘There’s a big square hole in the

ground. Look.’

They did. There was.

‘OK, Seb,’ the Doctor continued. ‘Just operate the

security diddly and in we go.’

Sebastiene twisted his bracelet and the air shimmered.

The familiar blue police box materialised in the snow.

The Doctor produced a key. ‘Won’t be a mo.’ He

unlocked the door and went inside.

Donna looked Sebastiene up and down. ‘What are you

going to do?’ she asked. ‘Now you’re a robot and

everything.’

Sebastiene smiled his chilling smile again. He seemed

to have regained some of his old, cruel humour. ‘Some

redecorating at the Chateau. Revenge...’

‘Oh that...’

‘I am going to disconnect my Butler. Very, very

slowly...’

‘Oh, you...’ came a shout from the TARDIS.

The Doctor marched out. He looked accusingly at

Sebastiene. He held the door open so he and Donna could

see the four wooden walls and the tiny, empty space

within. ‘You’ve been sussed, me old son,’ he said. ‘That’s

just a blue box.’

There was a scream from the sky and they looked up to

see atmosphere craft already approaching.

The robot army reported in. They had found and

captured the fugitives. All three.

IMT was twelve minutes and forty-eight seconds to full

operation. Beneath the planet’s surface, huge generators

were powering up. All was well with Planet 1.

There were big plans for the Doctor. The Butler was on

a schedule.

The Doctor, Donna and Sebastiene were being ferried

by atmosphere craft to the Chateau. The Butler went to

meet them personally. He snarled at the pompous horse-

drawn carriage as it drew up in the courtyard. Another

confection soon to be dismantled. The Butler was looking

forward to meeting his old master again.

First, the Doctor had to become the planet. The Butler’s

programming was far too limited to comprehend what that

meant, or how it could be achieved, but it knew this first

step was vital. And the Doctor was tricky and more than

likely to resist.

A fleet of atmosphere craft flew through the force

shields. One broke off from the formation and dropped

onto the highly decorated tarmac of the landing site.

The horses pulled up and the Butler exited the carriage.

Doors opened on the steaming atmosphere craft.

Eighteen armed security robots escorted the Doctor,

Sebastiene and Donna out.

The prisoners were downcast, not talking, eyes rooted

on the floor. Only the Doctor showed signs of life, looking

around without emotion.

Searching for a way out, thought the Butler. Oh, he was

a clever one.

‘Into the carriage please,’ it sang. ‘Nearly there.’

It was just about to taunt the depressed-looking

Sebastiene when a command sparked inside the Butler’s

brain. Planet 1 was informing the robot that IMT was back

on-line. ‘We have Molecular Technology again...’ The

robot sighed. What a relief.

The entourage immediately stopped moving. No need

for them any more.

The Butler snapped his fingers and a security field

materialised around the three prisoners. They looked

about in surprise.

Raising an air-screen, the Butler organised immediate

transmat to the control room. The robot took one last look

at the horse and carriage and smiled. That was the last

time it was going to have to put up with this kind of

nonsense.

They travelled.

‘Donna Noble is a useful tool,’ said the Butler. ‘She

ensures compliance. I’m sure I’m not the first to say it.’

Donna and Sebastiene were secure enough. They

dangled in fizzing energy bonds next to Baris. The Doctor

was standing in hand and wrist molecular restraints.

Planet 1 needed him mobile. All around the control room,

operator robots were busy with air-screens. The old VR

equipment had been junked, and not before time.

The Butler waved a giant hand and the control room

floor opened up. A vast hum rang out from fathomless

depths. Far below, unearthly purple light – pure living,

breathing energy – danced and swam across chasms of

unimaginably advanced technology. Snake-like cables the

size of tower blocks erupted upwards. They writhed in and

out of each other, eager to get their hands on the last of the

Time Lords.

‘The heart of Planet 1,’ said the Butler. ‘Ready for you,

Doctor. You and Planet 1; together for ever.’ The robot

chuckled. ‘At last: no more errors; no more decadence,

just purpose.’

The Doctor did not react.

‘Why so glum?’ The Butler was in a chatty mood.

‘You’re about to become a god!’

The Doctor said nothing.

‘All the experience, imagination and wonder locked up

inside you will keep Planet 1 occupied for millennia.

We’re all very excited. Who knows, perhaps eventually

we will find a way of moving through the universe

together. Imagine that? Planet 1, mobile. We might even

learn to create a new universe, whole dimensions, just for

us.’

The giant cables writhed in anticipation, like restless

fingers. Sebastiene wriggled in his bubble. ‘Traitor,’ he

said tonelessly.

The Doctor looked sad. ‘All that energy, all those

resources, and you don’t know what to do with

yourselves.’

The Butler pulled up an air-screen. ‘Excuse me,’ he

said. ‘Before you start trying to talk me out of this, I need

to perform a bio-check. So we know you are who you say

you are. You remember.’

Molecular scanning lights flashed up and down the

Doctor’s floating body. Operator robots read information.

‘Jolly good,’ the Butler said. ‘Now. This will take only

a few seconds. And then we’ll have you.’ The giant cables

reared and pounced.

An alarm sounded. The Butler froze. The cables

retreated. Operator robots looked up in horror.

‘I’m not the Doctor,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m a robot

bomb. And you’ve just armed me.’ He jumped into the

chasm.

The Butler and the rest of the operator robots looked up

to see another Doctor and Sebastiene attaching a device to

Baris’s floating body. All three disappeared.

There came a great mechanical roar of pain and anger

and fear from the depths of Planet 1.

The Sebastiene and Donna robots smiled. Sebastiene

gave the Butler a little wave. And went off.

The Doctor, Sebastiene and Baris shimmered and dropped

onto the snow.

The air shimmered again, and Donna appeared. Along

with a familiar blue box. Donna gave the Doctor a

thumbs-up.

‘Intelligent Molecular Technology,’ said the Doctor

brightly. ‘What a marvellous concept.’

Somehow, this made them all giggle. They couldn’t

help themselves. For a good minute, all they did was

choke. Not the most obvious sign of a good time but a

good time nevertheless.

‘With the amount of explosive in those robots, we’ve

obliterated half the northern hemisphere,’ said Sebastiene.

He looked pleased with his statement.

‘Does that mean Planet 1 is dead?’ asked Donna.

The Doctor inspected the TARDIS. ‘Oh I doubt that.

We gave it a little sting; a headache. Enough of a

distraction to get away.’

He looked at a small opening in the frozen ground.

Down below, large blocks of grey machinery throbbed and

clunked. Pipes hissed with releasing steam as the robot

shaping devices cooled. Automatic cables detached and

went dormant.

‘I don’t get it. What the hell just happened?’ asked

Baris.

‘Like I told Donna,’ said the Doctor, ‘you’re never more

than a kilometre away from a robot workshop. Even

Planet 1 can’t think of everything.’

‘The Doctor Trap,’ said Donna. She pulled her parka

tight around herself. ‘Can we go?’

‘Eh?’

Sebastiene was suddenly gloomy. He seemed

disappointed. ‘Without someone to organise its systems,

Planet 1 is nothing but a lifeless machine. Once I was

kicked out, there was no creative mind behind its

reasoning. Until it could claim the Doctor, Planet 1 had to

think for itself. And we out-thought it.’

‘Sebastiene knew there was a robot factory here, so we

went underground and built some robots...’ said Donna.

‘Disguised them as us and gave them up to Planet 1. To

blow up the Chateau,’ continued the Doctor. ‘We gambled

that Planet 1 would instinctively want full power and rush

to get the IMT back up and running. Once it did that, we

were able to transmat in and rescue you and the TARDIS.’

Sebastiene sneered. ‘Dumb. Very dumb. If Planet 1 had

trusted me more, we would never have succeeded.’

‘A machine is a machine...’ The Doctor patted the

TARDIS. ‘No offence.’

They stood in the snow and looked at each other. The

Doctor, Donna, Sebastiene, Baris.

The blizzard, artificially generated though it may have

been, howled round them. The distant sun was setting.

‘Well,’ said Donna, ‘nice meeting you.’

They stayed looking.

‘You know I’m coming with you,’ said Sebastiene.

‘No,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Baris, but not you...’

Baris was rubbing his arms. The end of his nose was

dripping ice; otherwise he still looked like the Doctor.

‘You can’t just leave him,’ he said. ‘Once Planet 1 is

recovered it’s going to come hunting.’

‘Good,’ said Donna.

Sebastiene smiled at the Doctor. ‘You misunderstand.’

He opened his coat and produced a short, gleaming sword.

‘Rustled it up in the lab when you were fussing over the

robots. Thought it might come in handy. And, yes, I am an

expert.’

The Doctor laughed. ‘You misunderstand me,

Sebastiene. When I say not you, I don’t mean I won’t take

you. I mean I can’t.’

Sebastiene twitched. ‘No more games.’

‘You’re a construct. A product of Planet 1. You can’t

leave; you physically can’t. Whoever you once were, now

you are joined to Planet 1. It’s what feeds you; what

powers you. It’s the price you pay for all your gadgets and

long life and indestructibility.’

Donna began to back-pedal. She felt for the reassuring

door of the TARDIS. ‘That’s all settled, then,’ she said.

‘Personally, I’d leave you here anyway.’

Sebastiene flashed the sword up. Its tip hovered a

centimetre in front of the Doctor’s nose. ‘You’re lying,’ he

said. The doubt in his voice was clear. ‘I’m not a robot.

I’m not!’ He recovered himself. ‘Anyway, there’s no harm

in trying. Move.’

Something was breathing on Donna’s neck. Something

that smelled like overripe fruit. Dusty cloth tickled her

hair. She saw Baris react in shock at whatever was

crawling down the TARDIS behind her.

‘Doctor...’ he said. ‘Doctor!’

They looked at Donna and gasped. She felt talons clasp

her shoulder and the sticky breath waft over her cheek.

‘The Carpalian Witch,’ said Sebastiene, a vibrant smile

returning to his face. ‘Oh, very good.’

Donna glanced sideways to see a grotesque jaw

stretching out from beneath a black hood. The jaw

contained what appeared to be a cross between an insect’s

mandibles and human teeth. A voice like dry twigs spoke

in Donna’s ear. ‘Did you really think to end the hunt so

easily?’

Claws clasped Donna’s face. ‘Give yourself to me or

the girl dies.’

Donna waited for the Doctor to say something. He

didn’t.

‘Doctor...’ she reminded him. ‘A little rescuing here,

please.’

Instead, he folded his arms and regarded the pair of

them as if they were an interesting puzzle to be solved.

‘The real question is,’ he said, ‘who are you after? The

Doctor? In which case there’s a choice of two. Sebastiene?

Bit difficult to know which one of us is supposed to give

ourselves up? Strangely enough, the only one you

definitely don’t want is Donna.’

Donna tried to stay calm. ‘Doctor, stop talking and do

something.’

‘I’m the Doctor,’ said Baris. ‘Here...’

He took a step forward. The real Doctor held him back.

‘No he isn’t. Listen, you’re between me and my TARDIS

and that won’t do. If you want Sebastiene, you go get him;

otherwise, we’re going to have words, and I’ll finish you

like I finished the rest of your stupid Society. So make up

your mind and act like you mean it.’

That did the trick. There was a pause as the Carpalian

Witch drew in an insulted breath, bellowed an insect

screech, then launched its black-hooded body at the group.

Specifically: at Sebastiene. He whooped for joy and

brandished his newly forged sword. The Doctor and Baris

stumbled backwards as the creature pounced.

Sebastiene stood his ground. He slashed at the

Carpalian Witch, who howled and fell. A thickly furred

limb lay thrashing in the snow.

‘It’s not dead!’ Baris yelled as the Witch leaped up

again. Claws extended, mandibles spitting, it launched

itself at Sebastiene. He dodged as its talons raked his

chest. Beating the creature back, he looked at the blood

spilling down his tailored black coat. ‘I-I’m hurt...’ he

whispered in disbelief. ‘Why you...!’

He took a step backwards, ready to launch a full-on

attack, and fell through the hole into the robotics

workshop. The Carpalian Witch squatted then sprang

down after him.

‘Run, Sebastiene!’ the Doctor yelled. ‘Run!’

He made to follow, but Baris held him back. ‘I’ll go,’

he said. ‘You’ve done enough. You need to get away from

Planet 1. Now.’

The Doctor pushed him aside. ‘After everything he’s

done, even if he escapes the Witch, every part of this

whole planet is going to be after him. I have to try...’

With a surprising, new-found strength, Baris shoved

him over. The Doctor fell onto a bed of snow.

‘I’m the Doctor today, mush,’ said Baris. ‘Look, I do

owe him. He made me the man you are today. So in a way,

you will be trying.’ He looked down at the hole and

yelled. ‘The Doctor to the rescue!’

And he jumped.

The TARDIS was lovely and warm. Really, really

lovely and warm. Donna was never going to leave it

again; not until she knew for absolutely definite that the

sunshine level outside was nothing less than Tenerife.

The Doctor was brooding over the console. He wasn’t

his usual self.

Donna stopped there and told herself off. Don’t talk

about ‘usual selves’. We’ve had enough trouble as it is.

‘Sebastiene?’ she asked instead.

The Doctor shrugged.

‘You liked him, didn’t you? A little bit? Eensy-teensy?’

He seemed to be talking to himself. ‘Oh, he’ll probably

be all right. Deep down, he’s a resourceful bloke. Even

without the toys. Probably end up running Planet 1 again.

Especially with Baris looking after him.’

‘He couldn’t leave the planet, you said so yourself. So

don’t worry about it.’

The Doctor looked up, as if suddenly remembering she

was there. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He was a robot, wasn’t he? You said he was reliant on

Planet 1. You couldn’t take him even if you wanted to.’

The Doctor gave her a look. A look that told her she

should know better. ‘Donna...’

She stopped. ‘You mean... he wasn’t? You mean... You

lied?’

He didn’t react. Not in any way whatsoever.

Donna held a hand over her mouth. She began to

giggle. ‘Oh my God. You know what, if he ever susses,

he’s going to be really annoyed with you.’

The Doctor began to play with the TARDIS controls. A

new energy coursed through him. ‘Too complicated!’ he

announced. ‘I’m done with complicated. I want

explosions and spectacle and chases again.’ He looked up

at her, smoothed his wild hair back and gave her his

widest grin. ‘Let’s do something simple.’

‘Warm,’ said Donna. ‘That’s all I want. Warm.’

‘All right. Warm.’ And with a laugh, he yanked the

lever.

You will be told this: Planet 1 is real.

And you never know; perhaps one day the invitation

will be for you.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to: Justin for remembering me. Mark and Mark: good luck! Gary

for a great day out. Caz, of course.

Also, the next generation: Nina, Matthew and Polly Body, Emily, Lauren

and Sam next door.