IV.

As Enik and the Doctor discussed their theories about the origins of the Altrusian race, they were wholly unaware that they were being observed from afar on the viewscreen of a certain TARDIS..

"Ah, Doctor," the Master spoke to the monitor. "You are trusting to a fault. Clearly, you had no idea that my little ruse allowed me to scan your DNA to confirm your identity. You are new wine in an old wineskin, yes, and I could smell your aroma from across the cosmos, even as my TARDIS captured yours with its tractor beam. Now you shall unwittingly help me escape this wretched place and, too, you shall enable me to acquire a new body. Namely, YOURS, my old enemy!" He laughed long and hard, and the cacophony of his vocal eruption echoed throughout the chambers of his ship. His private merriment was short-lived, however, when he looked down at his wrist and noted that his worn flesh was oozing from his body, and dripping to the floor in a puddle of translucent goo. He had used up all of his lives, and it was not the rock that was in stasis - it was his physical form. Unless he could find another host body, his existence would be cut short. He scuttled off into the darkness in an effort to stabilize his condition. XR-6 rolled off after him and out of view.

"No, Enik." The Doctor told the Altrusian. "I do not believe the Sleestaks are your descendants. Nor do I believe they are the devolution of your race. I have met others of your kind, and they all vary in shape to certain degrees. They are called Sillurians."

Enik, who appeared emotionless, was nonetheless fascinated and inwardly excited by this news. "I have heard of such a race," he responded. "but only in the Library of the Skulls."

"What do you know of them, Enik?" the Doctor asked, equally curious.

"Very little, Doctor. They have been spoken of only in whispers, yet I am certain that they were once associated with what I have heard called the Creators. Who the Creators are, however, is unknown to me, and to inquire about them is not allowed. It is regarded as blasphemy."

"You and I have a lot in common, Enik." The Doctor said, stroking his chin. "We are solitary individuals who have been forced to walk our own path. I believe we shall become great friends." He smiled, and Enik nodded. The Doctor smacked his hands together. "I'm sure you've become quite fond of Will and Holly here," he said. "But I do believe they have been in this place far too long. Do you think you could help me figure out a way to get them home, and reunite them with their father?"

"Rick Marshall was a good man," Enik offered. "It would be my honor. However, we are in a place where the Pylons control many things, and yet no one knows how to manipulate the crystals upon them properly. We have tried many combinations over the years, but have only met with limited success."

"So what we need," the Doctor thought out loud, "is to find the Instruction Manual. It's been lost, somewhere, but since the Pylons are clearly patterned after Gallifreyan technology - or maybe it's the other way around - there's got to be a backup somewhere. And where better to look than in, say, a library?"

Enik stepped one pace closer to the Doctor than he'd been a moment ago. "Surely you do not wish to meddle in the Library of the Skulls."

"Well," said the Doctor. "It won't be the first time I got into a Silurian's head." He smiled, and headed over to Will and Holly, who'd given Enik and the Doctor time to get acquainted.

"Will, Holly - I need you to compare notes with Enik so you can tell me everything you know about the Library of the Skulls and the Lost City."

Will, Holly, and Enik compared notes long into the night, and after everyone rested, they arose in the morning with a plan. Before they would venture into the Lost City, however, everyone was in agreement that the Doctor should probably investigate a Pylon before anyone had to skulk around the labyrinths of the Sleestaks.

When they reached the nearest Pylon, a large dinosaur loped by, and Holly was delighted to see her old friend Dopey, accompanied by his mate and offspring. She watched in delight as they devoured large strawberries in the distance.

"Odd hum," the Doctor noted as they neared the Pylon. "Sounds very much like a sensor to me." He felt around the Pylon and noted how cool it was to the touch. Then, as Will had instructed him, he twisted the knob that allowed the Pylon to open, and he stepped inside."

"I wonder," the Doctor said aloud, "if there's a Chameleon Circuit in here somewhere." He felt around the stone console, but had no luck. He pondered the layout of the Pylon, and then remarked, "Or maybe, just maybe, there's a control panel in here, hiding in plain sight." He ran his hand along the walls of the Pylon, and at a certain point, realized there was what appeared to be a hole in the wall, although it didn't appear to be there when gazing upon it with the naked eye.

"How are you doing that, Doctor?" Will asked, wide-eyed.

"The more important circuitry here is masked by a hologram, Will."

"What? You mean to tell me we've been here all these years, and there were aspects to the Pylons that we hadn't considered? I feel so…stupid!"

"Will," the Doctor posed. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You arrived here in the 1970's, and holograms were essentially in their infancy during that time-period on Earth. This place, however, is not of Earthly design. I suspect it's a progenitor to my ship, and if my hunch is right, the Time Lords of old had everything to do with the creation of this place." He stuffed his arm inside the opening he'd discovered and pulled out what appeared to be metal clipboard of sorts. He opened it and grimaced; the notations on it were unfamiliar to him. "This," he said, "is going to take some time to decipher. But, fortunately, I am a Time Lord." He smiled, and the small entourage headed back to the compound where they assembled a new enclosure to ensure their safety during the night hours.

In another sector of the Land of the Lost, someone else was keeping track of the Doctor's coming and goings. A certain alien whose form was entirely composed of light. He'd been in hibernation for countless years by his reckoning, but now he was coming to life again, and this time - this time - he would make the Marshalls pay for their perfidy. After all, no one dares get the best of a Zarn.

Later that night, over a campfire, the Doctor and Holly were sharing a quiet conversation. "Tell me about your secret name," the Doctor calmly requested. "The name you call yourself that no one knows about."

"How do you know about that?" Holly asked, wide-eyed.

"Oh, we Gallifreyans have been around, and we pick up on certain things quite easily. We're not necessarily psychic by any means, but we do tend to piece things together when we analyze details of the big pictures that unfold before us as we traverse through time and space."

"What does that mean?" Holly asked, clearly puzzled.

"Well," the Doctor expounded. "It's similar to what happens when someone familiarizes you with a family album, and you comb through the pictures and hear the family stories, and then you begin to realize who's who, and what's what."

"So, how did you know I had a secret name for myself."

"Just a hunch," the Doctor said with a smile. He looked into the fire, away from Holly's gaze."

"Well," she said. "I don't know why, but I've always felt like Holly wasn't my real name. I've always felt like my real name was meant to be…Rani."

As the Doctor looked into the flames, a cold chill went through his spine.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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