Doctor Who: The Time Destroyer

By Paul D'Arcy

Based on the Original Role Playing Game Developed By Ryan Blake

Episode 4

It was like someone was continually crashing a building into his head. The second Doctor felt wave upon wave of terrible pain thrashing against the insides of his temples.

'You must be prepared for submission, Doctor. You will obey me!'

The voice was excruciatingly painful. It sounded almost Dalek-like in his mind. He caught a fleeting image of a decrepit half-humanoid man with no eyes sockets and an eerie blue light glowing in the middle of his forehead.

Was it a memory, or a nightmare? He couldn't tell.

He felt the world swirl around him at terrific speed. A wave of dizziness took over and he sank to his knees. Try as he might, the Doctor couldn't stop the malevolent energy from invading his mind.

He scrambled through his pockets, looking for something.

'Where is it? Oh, my giddy aunt! Where is it?'

His thoughts were becoming interlinked with the presence that had forced itself inside his head, and that was the truly terrifying thing. For no matter how badly, or how well, historical events went, the one thing he could always depend on was his brain. His capacity to think.

To act.

To love.

'Come on! Where are you?' he shouted exasperatedly.

He tossed out a bag of jelly beans, beer mats, even an old-style London Transport Oyster card.

Then he felt the solid metal canister. He pulled out the hip flask and noticed the inscription on its side.

'I always keep a supply of stimulant handy, in case I see a snake.

Which I also keep handy.'

W.C Fields

The Doctor pulled the top off the flask and poured the scotch down his throat.

'You can't escape me, Doctor. You can't escape what you can't resist!'

'Perhaps not, but I can certainly slow your progress.'

He gulped and gulped as it dropped out the small metal holder, gagging on some as the drink splashed over his face and onto his coat.

'You can't beat me, Doctor. You can't run from me!'

The excruciating buzz in his head was starting to subside; the warm whiskey he swallowed was doing its job well. It made him feel fuzzy. The world seemed to slow a little as he drank more and more. He emptied the flask and shoved it unceremoniously back into his pockets.

Then he pulled out a small black device that had only a single switch. His blurred vision tried to focus on it, and his fingers felt oddly unusable as he clumsily stabbed at it.

'What are you doing, you fool?'

'I'm taking you on a trip, so sit back and enjoy the ride.'

The Doctor started to climb to his feet again as the familiar wheezing sound of the Tardis permeated the darkness of the small antechamber.

The Doctor wrapped his extra-long, multi-coloured scarf around his neck again.

One thing about the Death Zone. It certainly isn't the place for tourists, he thought to himself, darkly. He continued through the long, thin underground passage until he saw a bright flickering light at the passageway's far end.

Buoyed by the notion that he'd reached the end of his trek through the underground tunnel system, he hurried towards the pinprick of light.

As he neared, he could see a single, flaming torch on a stand. He grabbed it and carried onwards.

The passageway opened out to a cave carved into the side of a sheer cliff. A stone bridge snaked across a large cavern. On the other side of the chasm, a similar opening led into the rock.

Rassilon's tomb was over there, he mused. The greatest single Time Lord in history. Legend had it that his powers were immeasurable. And whoever had destroyed his race, whatever had allowed these chains of circumstances to happen, the Doctor had no choice now but to face that power, and find a way to fight it.

He glanced back the way he'd come. He could go back, attempt to escape the evil force that had decimated his people.

But what would that accomplish?

'Nothing.' He told himself. 'Oh, well. Needs must.'

He pushed his hat further down his head and started across the bridge. Halfway across, he peered over the edge, which was a mistake.

All he saw was blackness.

The words of his previous incarnation floated through his mind.

'There's a reason it's called the Death Zone, you know.'

He steadily planted one foot in front of the other, continuing onward until he'd made it across. Then, into another long, thin passageway like the one he'd been in before. The stone walls were cold and unyielding, but he carried on.

Finally, the walls opened out into an antechamber with two pathways before him.

One led off to the left, one to the right. Thankfully, he didn't have to choose, because he could see a door built into wall at the far end of the turning to the right.

'Always been a fan of architecture,' he mumbled as he looked at the walls surrounding him. 'Any architecture.'

With that, he hurried to the door. It creaked open, loudly. Despite his heavy coat and scarf he felt an honest shiver move up his spine.

'Well what do you expect? You are entering a tomb, you know!' he murmured.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

The door led to the bottom of a set of stairs. He took them, two at a time, but stopped suddenly when he heard voices from the chamber ahead. Quietly, he crept to the wall and stood, listening intently.

'Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.'

'Jehoshaphat! What are you doing here?'

That's me, he thought, recognising his previous incarnation's voice.

'Fancy footwork, Doctor. You should've been a ballet dancer. Not the most dignified position, though.'

And that was the Master! Could the Master have brought about the carnage I saw on Gallifrey? Now there's a silly question, he mused.

'Never mind that. Are you responsible for bringing me here?'

'You mean you and your other selves? Don't you know? Can't you guess?'

There was silence for a moment.

'I knew you were a fool, Doctor. But I had hoped you would've, at least, considered other possibilities, rather than jump at the obvious!

Then a new voice joined the conversation. One he'd heard before.

'Don't be stupid! Of course, he wouldn't. He's too much, the hero,'

My God…

So, not only were his other selves caught up in this, so were the Master's previous incarnations.

'Who are you?' the Doctor asked. 'What happened to the rest of my people?'

'Your people are my people, Doctor.'

'You're a Time Lord? I don't believe it!'

'You've met your other selves. Is it so impossible to believe that you can't meet my other selves?'

'You mean that-!'

'Yes, Doctor, we are one. One and the same. It will be most gratifying to see you die. Gratifying beyond words.'

Another voice joined the conversation. A cold, robotic voice that put the fear of God in him.

'You-will-be-ex-ter-min-ated!'

It was a Dalek voice.

Then, there was a stomping noise, as if a series of pistons moved in unison

'You will be deleted, Doctor.'

The fourth Doctor risked a quick glance into the room. The place was strewn with dead Cybermen. On one side of the room were, three Daleks. Next to them, the decrepit Master, who he had fought on the planet Traaken, was seated on a large ornate throne of some kind. The Master, whom he'd battled against while serving his sentence on Earth during his third regeneration, stood beside him.

On the other side of the room, stood two live Cybermen.

And they were raising their arms to aim at the third Doctor who was caught standing in the middle of the room.

The third Doctor glanced over in his direction, and they shared a look. A look that bridged the regeneration gap. The third Doctor smiled, and the fourth Doctor could imagine his words.

Sorry, my dear chap. Looks like my time is up!

The withered Master's cackle rang loudly in the Doctor's ears. But another sound grew in intensity.

A familiar wheezing sound that was at once ages-old, yet so full of hope.

The Tardis began to appear around the third Doctor.

'No!' screamed the Master, rising from his seat. 'Open fire!'

The Daleks and the Cybermen obeyed, pouring bolts of energy at the blue box that popped into existence. They started to move closer towards it. The door faced the fourth Doctor. It opened, revealing his previous self.

'C'mon!' he beckoned.

Instinctively, the Doctor made a dash for the Tardis. He dove inside just as the chessboard death trap started to unleash its terrible weaponry. The shields surrounding the Tardis deflected the bolts that assaulted it, sending them in all directions, but the Daleks and the Cybermen weren't protected from it.

The bolts of sizzling energy raked across their bodies. Sparks flew everywhere, faceplates were destroyed and domes exploded in a cacophony of lethal firepower. In the midst of all this, the Tardis began to disappear again.

'No!' screamed both Masters.

The third Doctor caught the Fourth as he bundled through the Tardis door.

'Thank you,' he replied brightly as his previous self grinned a winning smile in his direction.

'Any time, old fellow. Stroke of luck, that. Sending the Tardis to me.'

'Me? I had nothing to do with it, I assure you.'

The third Doctor's smile disappeared slightly.

'Well, if you didn't send it here, how did it…?'

Both men turned to look at the console. The Time Column moved at its usual rate of speed, but there seemed to be no one else around.

Slowly, a hand reached up from the opposite side of the console and grabbed it. Another hand clasped itself to its side, and the second Doctor slowly pulled his head over the top. His peered at them through half-closed eyes, recognised them and smiled lopsidedly.

'Hiya, boys! How am I doing?'

He hiccoughed once, tried to wave and fell back underneath the console.

The third and fourth Doctors looked at each other. Then they both walked around either side of the Time Column and knelt beside their unconscious self.

My God,' the fourth Doctor said as he took off his hat and ran a hand through his brown, curly hair. 'He's pickled!'

'Pickled?' the white-haired man stared curiously at him.

'Yes. You know, sloshed.'

The fourth Doctor shook his hand to his mouth a few times.

'Do you mean to say he's drunk?'

'As a skunk, yes.' he replied.

'Why? Things can't be that bad, can it?' he smirked at his next regeneration's face, who also flashed a smile at him.

'Doctor!'

The voice dark and malevolent came from the unconscious little man before them, yet his every facial muscle was still.

'Doctor, I will have my revenge! I will have the life that has been denied me!'

The pair looked at each other with dread in their eyes.

'Ah, whom do I have the honour of addressing?' asked the fourth Doctor.

But there was no reply. The third Doctor gave out a soft whistle, grabbing his later incarnation's attention. He nodded at the far end of the room and rose up off the floor.

Understanding what the older man wanted, the Doctor stood, unravelled his scarf and walked over to join him.

'Listen, it's obvious that that voice, whatever it was, has entered the hobo's mind.'

'Yes. But why get drunk, unless…?'

The fourth Doctor realised the problem.

'You've got it, old fellow. He couldn't stop it from taking over his mind, so he's gotten himself drunk to slow it down….'

'…And then gone looking for us!' the fourth Doctor finished.

'Precisely. It's imperative that we keep him drunk until we can figure a way to get that presence out of his mind.'

'Hmm. I think it's time we paid old Rassilon a visit, too.'

'Yes.' The third Doctor replied. 'Obviously the force field that dampened the local area in the Death Zone is still deactivated. I'll set the coordinates for Rassilon's tomb. You find a good stiff bottle or two and keep the Scarecrow drunk.'

Minutes later, the fourth Doctor returned from the inner sanctum of the Tardis to the console room with a large bottle of something blue in his hand.

'Felkorian wine. Guaranteed to stop a herd of dinosaurs in their tracks,' he smiled.

The third Doctor smirked.

'Remind me to tell you about the time Sarah Jane and I caught a Tyrannosaurus Rex right in the middle of twentieth century London.'

'You don't need to,' replied his future self. 'I was there. Remember?'

'Oh, yes,' he smiled again. 'Well, I've set the coordinates to the same ones in the Tardis history log. We should land exactly where we took off from, the last time we were here.'

The fourth Doctor opened the bottle, set it down on the floor beside his second incarnation, pulled him up into a sitting position and poured the alcohol down his throat.

'Good. Maybe now we can get some answers.'

The Doctor threw a paddle forward, and the Time Column moved at its usual pace. He glanced down at his former and future selves.

'Careful. We don't want him to get so drunk that he can't stand.'

His future self looked up with a grin.

'Oh, don't worry. He'll metabolise this in no time.'

The Time Column stopped moving then, drawing the attention of both men back to the console. The third Doctor ran his hands across it deftly.

'We've landed…and according to the spatial coordinates, exactly the same spot we were in before.'

The fourth Doctor set the bottle back down on the floor, grabbed his drunken self by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

'Come on. We've got work to do.'

The second Doctor moaned quietly as he was shaken awake.

'Wassamatter? Wha' is it? Whoss goin' on?'

'What's going on is that we're back in Rassilon's tomb!'

He stared at his former self, who seemed more awake now, yet still drunk.

'How do you feel?'

The second Doctor screwed his face into a grin and waved cheerily at him.

'Yes, well I hope you have a blinding headache after this is over.' With that, the third Doctor made for the door.

The tomb hadn't changed from the last time he'd been in here. The third Doctor noted that Rassilon's body was still laid out on its plinth. Underneath were four headstones. He felt a cold shiver as he remembered that the headstone, second from the right had, at one time, been Borusa, Lord President of the Time Lord race.

He was the last person, as far as the Doctor knew, who chased Rassilon's dream of immortality, and paid the ultimate price for it.

Immortality.

In stone.

He moved out of the Tardis and looked around again. There was the force field console in the corner of the room. He walked over to it and gave the controls a quick check.

The fourth Doctor struggled to shove his second incarnation through the Tardis door. When he had brought him outside, the fourth Doctor set him down on the floor in a heap.

'Well, the force field's not been activated, at least. But there's something strange…' the third Doctor glance over at his future self and motioned for him to come over and take a look. Seconds later, both Doctors were staring at the controls.

'What's strange, then?' he asked.

The third incarnation ran his hands over a series of buttons and a small screen flashed on.

'I'm getting several Time traces. Identical traces to the Tardis that we arrived here in.'

'You mean that several identical Tardises have arrived here in the Death Zone? Impossible, surely!'

'No,' replied the third Doctor. 'Not impossible. We're proof of that, I'm afraid,' he glanced at his future self with an almost apologetic smile. 'The scanner shows twelve distinct traces. Each one identical.'

'There's no mistake. Someone's kidnapped most of our regenerations.'

Both men stared at each other gravely.

'But the Time Streams…'

'…are interlocked somehow. Producing this timeline.'

The fourth Doctor rubbed at his chin thoughtfully.

'Well, that would explain how we managed to be here all at once.'

'Hmm,' agreed the third Doctor. 'But what puzzles me is the destruction on Gallifrey. How could it have been so complete? How did the Daleks manage to break through their defences?'

The third Doctor shook his head, a curious expression on his face. He turned away to look at the rest of the room. There was the stone statue, with the old High Gallifreyan script nearby. He noticed another, similar statue in the other corner of the room. On the far wall, the transmat booth stood empty. He could see a single, soft blinking light, indicating its readiness.

His mind continued to ponder over the problem. Someone was taking the Doctor's regenerations and pulling them into a unique and totally separate timeline.

Then, he heard the click of a pair of fingers, and he returned his attention to his future self. The fourth Doctor stared off into space, his eyes wide open and his face cast into surprised understanding.

'Of course! We've been brought here, right?'

'Right, replied the third Doctor.

'Which is against the laws of natural time, right?'

The third Doctor looked at him with a mixture of irritation and annoyance.

'If you've got something to say, I wish you'd get on with it, dear fellow!'

'It's very simple. That vortex where the three of us met each other? That's nature's way of trying to compensate for the unnatural timeline we're in, right now!'

The third Doctor frowned at him for a moment. Then, understanding dawned in his eyes.

'Yes! Whoever has brought us here must've created some kind of temporally stable universe.'

'Centred around Gallifrey?'

'Possibly,' replied the fourth Doctor. 'It may just be a temporal echo. There's no way to know, really. But assuming this is all true, and the natural laws of space time are being warped by….whoever is kidnapping us, why bring us all together? It doesn't explain why the Daleks and the Cybermen are here, nor does it help us discover who's behind all this.'

'Could it be the Master?' asked the third Doctor. 'He's here too, remember.'

The fourth Doctor shook his head.

'I doubt it. This whole thing seems to be a trap meant just for us. I doubt that the Master would waste his time with other races like the Cybermen, and certainly not the Daleks.'

The third Doctor looked around, casually noting the stone column on the other side of the room. He moved closer to get a better look.

'Who, then?' the third Doctor asked. His counterpart simply shrugged his shoulders.

'I did.'

The voice made the Doctor jump. Both men whirled around to see the newcomer in the room.

He was dressed in black, with a long, flowing cape. His head was covered with a black skull cap, and he wore the black ceremonial head dress of a Time Lord. He was flanked by three Daleks.

'Who might you be?' the fourth Doctor asked politely, his eyes wide open.

'Why Doctor, I'm you!' he said quietly, smiling.