Chapter Eleven
The Master was idly flicking at the controls of the monitor screen, hopefully scanning the area around the TARDIS in search of a figure that might be the Doctor, when the closet door burst open. He whirled, poised and ready, and smiled grimly at the sight of his robotic duplicate striding directly towards him.
"Ah, the young lady knows enough to reactivate you, I see. How fortunate for me that the Doctor characteristically built you to be a guard dog with no teeth."
"I may not be able to tear you limb from limb in classic killer-robot style," the android replied, never pausing in its advance, "but I can most certainly lock the TARDIS controls and trap you here in this dismal period in the history of a dismal planet."
The Master took a half step to block his double's path to the console, then narrowed his eyes by a fraction of an inch and leaned sideways to see past him. In time to see Alison slip from the closet and scurry towards the door which led into the TARDIS' interior.
"And trap the Doctor and his friend here too? I think not. In fact, I think she is the one towards whom I'll be directing my attention."
With a flash of the speed locked within his large frame, he accelerated towards Alison's fleeing figure, only to trip and hurtle head-first into the wall. The robotic Master allowed himself a slight smile of satisfaction at the indignity of the tumble.
"I may not have teeth, but my feet can trip as effectively as anyone's."
The Master scrambled up and glared at the door, but she was lost to view, and by now could have vanished along any one of a dozen irrationally configured passageways. He eyed the doorway in vexation for a moment before dismissing the matter with a shrug.
"No matter. There's little enough she can do."
He turned to face the android, who stood unmoving, returning his gaze with neither fear nor hostility.
"And you, my mechanical friend. Not planning on making a run for it as well?"
"Hardly. By now you'll have worked out that you can deactivate me via the console. I've no wish to be brought down in an undignified manner whilst pointlessly fleeing down a corridor."
The Master smiled his appreciation and leaned back against the console, arms folded. He eyed his counterpart critically.
"I must give due credit to the Doctor's efforts. To the untrained eye you could almost be real."
"Doubtless he will be thrilled to hear this. But as you know full well, I am far more than a mere imitation. I have not just your appearance, your voice, and your memories, but your thought patterns. Your drives, your reactions, your creative genius. I am, in a very real sense, you."
The Master's smile thinned and sharpened.
"I think not."
"Come now. You know that this mechanical mind is well capable of supporting your consciousness. That's why you planned to steal it in the first place. Bear in mind that you have no secrets from me."
"Yes, I'm aware of that," the Master replied. "I find the idea displeasing."
"Of course you do. You have always taken pride in your uniqueness, and now? You are one of two."
"One of two." The Master curled his lip in mockery. "I am the Master. You, whatever your electronic memories may be telling you, are the Doctor's lap dog. Do you see the difference?"
"I am more than your equal. I know everything you do, and more besides. I have lived these years alongside the Doctor and latterly Miss Cheney. It has been illuminating."
"Oh, do tell me. Have they touched your cynical old soul? Or is that merely a subroutine the Doctor programmed into you? Can you be sure?"
"I have gained an intriguing insight," the android pressed on. "I have come to understand a little of why the Doctor so frequently emerges victorious when all logic would suggest otherwise."
"Is it because right is on his side?" suggested the Master sardonically. "Does he have the strength of ten because his heart is pure?"
"In a way, yes. You see, we always assumed that his compassion was a disadvantage. He handicapped himself by trying to win without getting anyone hurt. He allowed himself to be blackmailed by anyone who held a gun to a friend's head. He would refuse to kill enemies when he had the chance and so leave them alive to fight another day."
"All true," the Master affirmed. "Surely you won't suggest otherwise?"
"No, but what we failed to realise was that it also gave him strength. You know how it was when we acquired allies. We might make use of them, but we would spend half the time plotting how best to betray them before they could do the same to us. We could never allow them to go unwatched for fear of a knife in the back. We would know that if things went awry they would run and save their own skins without a second thought. But the Doctor..."
The android frowned a little, as though these were all ideas occurring to him for the first time.
"... the Doctor has friends. Friends he can trust. Friends who will never betray him. Friends who will risk their lives, selflessly, to help him. What an extraordinary form of ally. How much superior to a paid mercenary or an entranced slave. Do you start to grasp what power it gives him?"
The Master pondered the concept with polite interest, nodding thoughtfully.
"An interesting point. What a shame, then, that you must have spent these years observing the phenomenon from a distance. For however faithfully you serve him, however many times you saved him and his friends, you must have known that they could never really trust you, and never really liked you."
"A state of affairs I endure with equanimity," the android smiled. "The adoration of a confused young human is a pleasure I can gladly forego."
The Master gave a nod.
"It's good to see that at least that much of me survived the Doctor's machinations." He turned to the switch on the console top. "And now, my friend, I think it's time for you to..."
"Stop!"
He whirled sharply towards the sound of Alison's voice. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Firman at her shoulder, his mouth drooping open with confusion, but his sidearm levelled squarely at the Master's chest.