Epilogue

The Master sat in his dressing gown and stared at the chessboard. He didn't move. He didn't blink or stroke his beard. Through the tiny window came the faint scream of a seagull in the distance, but inside the prison cell it was silent.

Seated opposite him was the tall, white-haired Doctor. He also didn't move, but his stillness was of a different kind. It was the stillness of a man facing a cobra, bracing himself for a strike that might come at any moment. Although he appeared to be casually resting his chin on his hand, his feet were both firm on the floor, his weight evenly balanced, poised to leap backwards in an instant should it be necessary.

The Master's eyes flickered. He had given the Doctor a quick glance and noted the alertness, the stance. Despite the Doctor's craggy face and appearance of age, he was a strong and skilful fighter. The Master would have to overpower and kill him faster than the Doctor could shout for help and bring prison guards into the cell. An unpleasant thought whispered that the Doctor might not even need them, but the Master crushed it. There was only so much humiliation he was able to take.

The Master stretched out his hand and knocked over the black king.

'Congratulations, Doctor,' he said. 'The game is yours.'

The Doctor gave a slight nod. He sat back, his hands lightly touching his knees, keeping both feet on the floor. The Master chuckled.

'Oh come, Doctor,' he said. 'You're allowed to gloat a little. Your strategy worked.'

'Yes, it did rather,' said the Doctor carefully.

'Would you mind telling me what it was?'

The Doctor stood up and reached for his coat. The Master sat back in his chair.

'Don't be like that, Doctor,' he said. 'Your strategy was clearly superior to mine or you wouldn't have won. There, you see—I admit it!'

The Doctor gave the Master a look as he shrugged on his coat. He seemed to want to say something, but then thought better of it. He went into his coat pockets for his driving gloves. The Master shook his head as though not understanding.

'I am genuinely curious,' said the Master. 'I mean … Rook takes Pawn! How could you possibly have known that sacrificing your rook would have resulted several moves later in the capture of my queen?'

'I didn't,' said the Doctor. 'Rook takes Pawn was a totally illogical move.'

'Then why did you do it?'

'To throw you off your game. My strategy was not to have a strategy.'

The Master let out a mirthless laugh. He looked away, trying to hide the rage he felt. The arrogance of this pompous dandy, believing that he—the Master—could be thrown off his game with such a simple trick. Yet the wooden pieces stood stubbornly on their little squares, silent witnesses to the facts. What a stupid Earth game chess was. And yet, and yet…

'Come,' said the Master as he sat forwards and started to reset the board. 'Another game.'

'Not today, old chap,' said the Doctor.

'At least give me the chance for revenge!'

'The score stands at fourteen: one. You are hardly the underdog.'

'Then why is it you leaving this cell and not vice versa?'

The Master was on his feet, staring at the Doctor and now the mask had dropped. He was furious, enraged, but there was also genuine confusion in his dark eyes. The Doctor looked at him with sympathy and then remembered how many people the Master had killed in cold blood.

'You know full well why you're here,' said the Doctor. 'And in case you've forgotten, I'm as trapped on Earth as you are.'

'You and I could rule this planet,' said the Master.

'You can't even lose a game of chess without wanting to kill someone. That's hardly a leadership quality.'

'I don't usually lose.'

'No, you don't,' said the Doctor thoughtfully. 'And maybe that is the problem.'

He went over to the cell door and banged twice on it with his fist. The sound echoed off the iron and a moment later there was the sound of approaching footsteps and the jangling of keys. The Master straightened his dressing gown and looked up.

'I do enjoy our games of chess,' he said. 'Whatever you think of me, Doctor, I hope you know that.'

The Doctor gave a nod. He stepped away from the cell door as it was being unlocked.

'So when shall we have our next game?' said the Master.

'I don't know,' said the Doctor.

'Soon, I hope?'

'We'll see.'

The cell door opened and a guard appeared. The Doctor turned.

'Anything you need?' he asked.

'My TARDIS?' said the Master.

The Doctor gave him a sad smile. Then he walked past the guard and left the cell. A few moments later the door was closed, locked and bolted and there came the sound of footsteps disappearing.

The Master stood alone in the cell. He was still for some time. Then he went back to his chair and sat staring at the chessboard. He had set up the black pieces, but the white pieces were still all over the place. Somehow, this made him angry and for a moment he wanted to hurl the board and pieces at the wall and stamp everything into oblivion. Then, the feeling passed.

The Master sighed. He began to put the white pieces onto their starting positions, ready for his next game with the Doctor.

THE END