Chapter 8: Cosmic Chess

The ballroom boasted three impressive crystal chandeliers in a room that could comfortably accommodate eight hundred people, but today there was only one man on the black and white chequered floor who stood admiring the paintings on the high ceiling. Dressed in black, he looked like a lone piece on a giant chessboard. Tall white doors decorated in gold opened behind him and another figure strode in, an awkward-looking man with thin wrists and a mass of dark hair. The man in black turned and smiled. He had never set eyes on the other man before—and yet he would have known him anywhere.

'Why, Doctor! You've regenerated!'

'And you've grown back that rubbish beard.'

'Always the charmer. I see the bow tie has made a comeback.' The Master looked over at the girl standing near the double doors. 'Close them, would you?' he said.

Amy looked at the Doctor. He gave a curt nod. She closed the tall doors with shaking hands and looked back at the two men. They were circling each other with measured steps like duellists looking for the kill. She decided to stay near the doors.

'The last time I saw you,' said the Master, 'we were standing shoulder to shoulder, fighting back the rise of Gallifrey.'

'That's an interesting version,' said the Doctor. 'What happened?'

'I saved your life, as I recall.'

'I mean, what happened afterwards? When I came to, you'd disappeared.'

The Master paused in his steps, looking up at one of the chandeliers. 'It's a long story,' he said.

'Fine,' said the Doctor, also stopping. 'Then let's talk about what you're doing in 17th century Holland.'

'Tut, tut, Doctor! The Dutch would roast you for that! What you breezily call 'Holland' is in fact the Republic of the Seven Provinces of the Netherlands, founded exactly one hundred years ago by William of Orange.'

'You have something special planned for the centenary?'

'Of course. Here, take a look at this. And get your little friend to join us.'

'The little friend has a name,' muttered Amy as she crossed the ballroom.

The Master led them to a magnificent section of floor that displayed a map of Europe made of hand-painted ceramic tiles. There were ships and sea serpents in the ocean and the countries' names were written in a beautiful copperhead script.

'Very nice!' said the Doctor. 'And you did this all by yourself?'

'Don't push your luck, Doctor,' said the Master. He pointed down at the map. 'The country in red is the Netherlands. It's a tiny little place, but stupendously rich. And surrounding it are France, Spain, the Germanic provinces and England—great big countries who would love to get their hands on all that wealth. Now … what would happen if this tiny little country had a great big catastrophe?'

'What kind of catastrophe?' said Amy.

The Master looked across at the Doctor, inviting him to work it out.

'Floods,' said the Doctor. 'One third of this country lies below sea level. A system of dykes and windmills has to work to keep the water out.'

'And the person responsible for maintaining that system,' said the Master to Amy, 'is the dijkgraaf. Me.'

'Only because you killed the previous dijkgraaf,' said the Doctor.

'Well, who wants to go through that whole election rigmarole?'

'It didn't bother you as Harold Saxon.'

'That was different.'

Amy looked from the Doctor to the Master and back. They were talking about the murder of a man as casually as if discussing an old football match. The Doctor hadn't even glanced away from the map.

'A nationwide flood would bring the Netherlands to its knees,' said the Doctor. 'And with all that wealth, those other countries would tear it apart.'

'Not necessarily, Doctor.' The Master slowly walked around the perimeter of the map. 'Haven't you always maintained that the people of this planet are a noble species, capable of helping each other? In theory, this will give them the chance to prove it.'

'You'd destroy thousands of lives to test a theory?'

'It's a game, Doctor! A cosmic chess game played with real live pieces!'

'Human beings are not chess pieces!' burst out Amy.

'You are to us,' said the Master. 'We're not called Time Lords for nothing. Humans are to us what animals are to you. In your century, you destroy millions of animals to test your theories. Isn't that right, Doctor?'

Amy stared at the Doctor, waiting for him to respond. But the Doctor said nothing. He just stood and stared at the map on the floor. The Master raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, 'You see?'

'It's not a bad plan,' said the Doctor. 'More low key than your usual world domination schemes, but there's a certain elegance to that.'

'Glad you appreciate it,' said the Master.

'You're welcome.'

'Doctor! Stop!' Amy was distraught, her hands grabbing her hair. 'The Master's talking about mass destruction and you're giving him marks out of ten!'

The Doctor sighed. He looked at the Master.

'She doesn't understand,' he said.

'I know how she feels,' said the Master, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

The Doctor looked surprised. He shrugged and turned to Amy.

'All right, let me explain,' he said. 'The Master doesn't care about the people on this planet. But he knows that I do care. In fact, I think he's counting on it.'

'For what?' said the Master.

'To play your little game. You see, Amy, the Master and I go back a long way. And we have had a lot of games of what you might call cosmic chess. Isn't that right?'

'You could put it like that,' said the Master with a smile.

'But there's a problem,' said the Doctor. 'I keep winning. It drives him nuts!'

The Master's smile disappeared and his eyes seemed to go very black.

'See what I mean?' said the Doctor. 'But what the Master doesn't yet understand is that I have finally reached the point where I actually agree with him.'

'What?!' said Amy and the Master in unison. They stared at the Doctor with identical expressions of disbelief.

'He's bluffing,' said the Master to Amy.

'Am I?'

The Doctor walked onto the map and looked down at the world beneath his feet. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together as his sharp eyes took in the details, one country after another.

'All right, 1675,' he said. 'Next year, the Dutch will be fighting the English. A couple of years later, the English and the Dutch will be fighting the French. The Spanish would be fighting the French and the English except they're still too busy exterminating the people of South America, while British settlers are doing the same to the people of North America. Basically, the people of Europe are grabbing bits of the world and fighting over it and on this little island of Corsica here will be born a human called Napoleon Bonaparte who will take war to a whole new level.'

The Doctor paused in his commentary and looked at Amy.

'And this is just the beginning,' he said to her. 'This will lead to more bloodshed and murder than this planet has ever seen. Tell me, Amy … do you really think the Master can do any more damage than Adolf Hitler?'

'You know me,' said the Master icily. 'I enjoy a challenge.'

'Rubbish,' said the Doctor. 'If that were true, you wouldn't pick on cultures whose technology is so inferior to ours. But that's not what sickens me about this.'

The Doctor turned and walked across to Amy. She went pale at the look on his face—he was furious in that quiet, awful way of his.

'What really sickens me is your species,' he said. 'There are humans in this building who know there's something fishy about this man; who even suspect that he's killed people. But because everyone is making so much money, nobody does a thing! This age is full of people who are only interested in conquest and power and riches. Amy, why should I risk my life for people like that? They deserve the Master!'

The Doctor turned on his heel and walked away, heading for the doors. For a moment, Amy was stunned and then she ran after him, her anger bursting forth.

'Nobody deserves what he does to them!'

The Doctor turned at the doors and Amy marched up to him, getting right in his face.

'He showed me, Doctor! The Master showed me what he does to the people he kills!' A sob escaped and her voice began to crack. 'He even keeps them in an ice box, so that they don't start to smell. It's horrible!'

The Doctor grabbed Amy's arms and looked right into her face. She gasped in pain. His fingers dug into her muscles and there was not an atom of sympathy in his eyes.

'Untimely death is always horrible, Amelia Pond,' he said with deadly quiet. 'That's why it is a thing to be avoided.'

The Doctor opened the door and shoved her through. She stumbled into the hallway outside and heard the door slam shut behind her. She was shocked and confused and seconds away from bursting into tears, but before she could move, the Doctor took her face in his hands. How different those hands were now—gentle and soft and kind—and how different his eyes. His look was full of concern and tenderness and there was also a sense of urgency. The Doctor opened his mouth and said one word:

'Run.'