Then: A Little Later Than Before
"You can't possibly win Strakov," The Doctor was explaining to him that rebel forces had seized the mining plant and were within striking distance of the palace.
"It doesn't matter Doctor," Strakov replied smoothly, "I have built all the weapons I will need, with one or two more to spare…" He flashed an evil grin.
"You would use them on your own people?"
"Why not?" Strakov shrugged, "After all that's how we ran all our research tests.."
"So what is it you want to show me?" The Doctor snapped in disgust.
"This Doctor! The helm of all my power!"
Strakov was in the middle of his control centre, actually a demountable hut that had been hastily assembled in the palace courtyard.
"It's a bit crowded in here Strakov," The Doctor observed.
The room was stuffed with consoles and monitors around the perimeter walls. There were Technicians busying themselves all over the room whilst trying to avoid tripping over loose cables or each other, and continually getting their lab coats caught in bits of equipment. Strakov had erected a swivel chair on a small pedestal in the centre of the hut where he was currently sat.
The chair was soft and leather padded, and had a cup holder fitted on the right.
It was clear that Strakov enjoyed the feeling of being at the centre of power as he swivelled around to observe his minions at work. Every now and then he barked out a demand for a status report, and so in order to brush aside The Doctor's comment he seized the opportunity to interrogate a passing Technician who dutifully proceed to spout a load of technical jargon whilst Strakov's eyes gradually glazed over.
Sensing that the minion was coming to the end of his spiel Strakov quietly asked him whether that all meant it was a good thing or a bad thing.
"It is good my Lord." The Technician replied knowing full well that to respond with anything else would mean being subjected to piercing screams of "YOU HAVE FAILED ME!" Before being subjected to instant death.
From what the Technician had said it was obvious that this cobbled together control centre was built to oversee the launching of a long-range missile tipped with Argonite warheads aimed at a nearby planet. It was due to be launched sometime within the next twenty-four hours unless of course, the neighbouring planets all acquiesced to Strakov's demands.
"You would've been better off setting this all up somewhere with more space," The Doctor persisted, "like the banquet hall."
"I already tried that Doctor but Lady Strakov threatened to make me sleep on the couch!" Lord Strakov admitted suddenly in a moment of unguarded frankness. "I mean er that the signal reception was found to be better in the courtyard."
One of the technicians could be heard sniggering, Strakov gestured to one of his guards and the unfortunate boffin was taken outside to be shot.
"Fortunately for you there appears to be a vacancy in my Technical department Doctor!" Lord Strakov beamed as the screaming and pleading from outside stopped abruptly due to gunfire, "put him to work," he gestured at the guard nearby "if he does anything out of place kill him!"
"What about the other one?" The guard queried.
Lord Strakov thought for a moment, "First have him clean out the cell that he urinated in." He decided.
Digby's face fell, more cleaning!
"Then put him to work in the kitchens."
Digby's face lit up, "Could I have a change of clothes?" he asked gesturing at his pee stained joggers.
"You can have the dead Technicians trousers, if they'll fit!" And so saying Lord Strakov leapt from his chair and made his way out of the hut.
He desperately needed to go as well!
*****