Translation of "L'Administrateur" by Umanimo.
Tegan watches the sun set over the countryside around Perth. Seated on a wooden garden chair, she smokes her only cigarette of the day on the patio in front of her little house. And as often happens at this hour, her mind drifts, melancholy, to the part of her life of which she never speaks to anyone.
She had left voluntarily, because she could no longer stand it. That sort of existence was too intense to keep up for long. Now, she often regrets that decision.
The life she leads is not uninteresting. She can't complain, really. She has a job that she loves, teaching enthusiastic young girls to become air hostesses. She has a nice house, although perhaps just a little too isolated. She has a kind husband who tolerates her outbursts of temper. He is elsewhere, in the kitchen, where she can hear him singing as he prepares a meal.
Tegan smiles. Brian works in a bank, but he had a thwarted career as a tenor, which shows itself at every opportunity.
The moment she gets up, after having stubbed out her cigarette, she sees something on the path leading to their home - a slim silhouette, barely distinct in the bright light of the enormous sun setting on the horizon.
"Hmm," she murmurs to herself. "Who could be coming to see us?" Oddly, while she is certain she doesn't know him - he is close enough for her to distinguish his features - he seems familiar. Something in his stride, supple and springy, feline. And an unpleasant bearing.
The man stops at the little gate. If he were a local, he would cross the barrier without waiting, since the door is not locked. This offhand manner always tends to annoy Tegan a little. But he does not do it. Nor does he call out. He simply waits for her to come to him.
She hesitates, but to not go and see what he wants would be rather rude. So, she walks down the path to meet him.
He is of unremarkable size, just a little above average. Dressed all in black, in a sober but very elegant suit, he has a short beard - a goatee, which just covers his chin. His blue eyes have a cold look about them, which makes the young woman shudder.
"Good evening, what can I do for you?" she asks, with forced politeness.
"Tegan Jovanka!" he exclaims. "Or rather," he adds, with a glance at the name on the letterbox, "should I say, Tegan Henson, now?"
"Who are you?" she asks slowly. "I've never seen you before...but I'm sure I know you."
"Both are true," he answers, with a smile as unsettling as his gaze. He glances over Tegan's shoulder towards the house. "Are we going to continue this discussion on opposite sides of the gate?"
"No...no, of course not - please, come in," she responds, after a moment's hesitation. If she allows this man to pass the gate, she somehow senses that her life will never be the same again. But didn't she find it boring, just a few minutes ago? She picks up the light latch and pushes the little wooden gate, which is all that separates her from the unknown.
He passes close by her and walks confidently to the porch. Then, he settles down on one of the folding chairs, carefully tugging at the crease of his trousers.
"My husband-..." she begins.
"...does not need to know what we are going to say," he finishes.
"I don't keep anything from Brian!" she protests, also taking a seat.
"Really?" He leans towards her a little, and scrutinizes her with his clear eyes. "Mr. Henson really knows all of your life, Miss Jovanka?"
He is insisting on the Miss and her former name. She feels her cheeks flare.
"I...I don't know what you're talking about," she stammers. But at the same time, her mind is racing.
He knows! How does he know? Who on Earth knows I travelled with the Doctor?
She thinks hard, but no name comes to her. Of course, she had met people during her adventures, but none who knew precisely who that man in the cricket outfit was.
"What do you want?" she adds. "To blackmail me?"
He raises his hands in a gesture of protest.
"Of course not! Nothing so trivial!" He leans towards her again, and his tone changes. He is no longer the charming man who pays a courtesy visit. "Tegan," he murmurs. "I need your help."
She is surprised at the worry written in his gaze.
"Who are you?" she repeats. "You still haven't said."
"I'm sure you know already."
A name surfaces in her mind, but still she hesitates to voice it - it just seems so improbable.
"I can see in your eyes that you understand," he adds.
"What are you doing here, and what do you want from me?"
"I've come to tell you that I need your help."
"No!" she declares. "It's hardly your style, to ask for the help of one of the Doctor's friends! Unless...unless...you think you could trap him!" She gets up. "Go away! I'm not naive enough to fall for your claptrap! You've never frightened me, you know. And you can tell Brian what you want - he won't believe you. He's too rational for that."
"Calm down, Tegan." He grabs her elbows and forces her back into her seat. He doesn't hurt her, but his grip is so strong that she can't resist. "Just listen to me for a few minutes," he requests. "If I don't convince you, I will leave as quickly as I came."
"You are a snake!" she snaps. "You-..."
"Ten minutes, no more," he pleads. She leans back in her chair, crosses her arms and mutters,
"Talk! I'll listen to your twaddle for ten minutes, but then you will walk out that gate, and I never want to see you again." She removes her watch and pointedly places it on the table. At their backs, the sun has disappeared, and the fading light washes everything in a golden hue that quickly dissipates.
"The universe is constantly in an unstable equilibrium," he begins. "Every concept needs to have its opposite, so that this balance never tips too far to one side or the other. You know the principle, I suppose. Every civilization has given it a name. Like yin and yang, from the people of China. In each half of the yin, one finds a small part of the yang; but in each part of the yang, there's a bit of yin. The equilibrium of the cosmos is principally due to the presence of a sort of universal yin and yang: the White Guardian and the Black Guardian. One represents absolute good, the other, absolute evil. They are both necessary. However," he adds, after a few seconds' pause, "what would happen if the White Guardian suddenly began to behave like the Black Guardian? How would the latter react?"
"He'd be delighted, I expect," Tegan interrupts him.
"Not really. Because the presence of too much yin threatens to tip the world not into chaos, but into nothingness. No more. Including, no more Black Guardian."
"Spell it out," Tegan interrupts again. "I still don't see what all of this has to do with you, and what you've come here for."
"I used these metaphors to try and make you understand what is happening. Who are the people we both know that would be the closest equivalents to the White Guardian and the Black Guardian?"
"The Doctor and...you."
He nods his head. She can barely see now, in the shadow of dusk, but she catches the movement.
"Wait," she protests. "Are you telling me the Doctor is going to become evil?"
"No, I'm not talking about the future - I'm talking about the present. It is already happening. He has already gone to the other side. During his last regeneration. And every day, the universe rocks a little more. An antagonizing force is needed to oppose him. A force that can equal him."
"I don't believe you!" Tegan replies. "Of all the nonsense that you can come up with, this is the most ridiculous! What's more, I don't see what it's got to do with me. If you want to go and play a valiant knight battling a demon, you go and do it!"
"There is a problem."
"Oh, right?" she says ironically. "And what's that? You can't manage to get on your white steed? You want me to give you a leg up?"
"It's a bit like that. I don't think I'm very good at this, Tegan," he admits. "To do evil...well, I know that. I don't even need to think about it - it's second nature. But the opposite..."
"Ten minutes up," the Australian replies coldly, straightening up. "It's completely dark, and any minute now, Brian is going to call me to the table. Go away. You've missed your shot. You were subtler when I knew you. You are softening, Master. I won't walk you out - you know the way."
She rises, turns her back on him and enters the house, where she carefully locks the door. A few seconds later, the Master hears all of the shutters slam, and then a muffled conversation between male and female voices.