The Master's low chuckle cut across between them.
"Unsettling, isn't it?" With a click of his remote control he closed the doors. "If she's you, then who are you? But don't worry, you're still the one and only Jasmine. This one here..." He rapped the double on the forehead with his knuckles. She didn't respond at all. "... Is a perfect facsimile on the outside but doesn't have much going on inside, isn't that right?"
"Yes, Master," the double replied quietly. Her eyes were perfectly blank, and empty.
"See?" said the Master. He stood shoulder to shoulder alongside the thing, his black tunic and its white smock making the pair of them look like some bizarre wedding couple, and in the disorientation of that vision, realisation struck Jasmine like a flash of light and she straightened with a gasp, because suddenly she iunderstood/i.
"I know why I'm here! I know what you want from me!"
"Really?" The Master looked interested. "Do go on."
"It's an android. It's supposed to be able to pretend to be me, but even though it looks like me it doesn't know how to act like me. The Doctor said those sessions in the lab were all about provoking me into an emotional response and then recording my thought processes. You're going to take all that recorded information and program it into the robot, so in any situation it'll be able to do what I'd do."
The Master listened closely to this, and there was a genuine recognition in his eyes. He almost looked proud of her.
"Spot on. Well done, young lady. Now I wonder, can you guess, what purpose we could have in constructing a perfect replica of you? It's not simply that we've enjoyed your company so much we thought it would be better still with two of you."
Jasmine paused, and thought.
"It'll be something to do with the Doctor. It'll be something big, because of all the trouble you've taken over this." Her face darkened, as the euphoria of making some sense of her imprisonment drained away and the fear grew of the use to which they might put this machine. "And it won't be anything good."
"All accurate, of course," said the Master with a sly smile. "But I doubt you'll ever think your way through to the full detail of the plan."
"And are you going to tell me?"
"Of course. I said I'd explain and I'm a man of my word. Ha! Not really of course, but on this particular occasion I am going to do what I said I would. Have you ever heard of Ichthus Minor?"
"No."
"Nothing to be embarrassed about. Not many people have. It's an aggressive, violent, but rather small planet in the Kozak spiral of which our little friend General Feigle happens to be military dictator. Its sole shot at, as it were, the big time, was during the process of disarmament which followed the end of the Ferastian War. Feigle hit upon the idea of ambushing a consignment of planet-killing Ixis missiles which were being taken for disposal in a black hole. It was a sound plan. It would have made him a force to be reckoned with, but fortunately for most concerned he was betrayed by one Issius Treed, a scientist who he had been expecting to get the missiles functioning for him. You won't be surprised to learn that at some point the Doctor became involved. He was the one who got a warning to the Ferastians, and he also got Treed safely away before Feigle could get his hands on him.
"So far, nothing out of the ordinary, you might say. The Doctor saves the day and the universe stumbles blindly on to the next crisis. But you've met Feigle. You can imagine he's not the type to accept such misfortune in a philosophical frame of mind. He has conspicuously failed to get over it and move on. I think deep down he still half believes the plan worked and he's a feared, powerful warlord, bestriding the cosmos. The occasional reminder that he's actually the disliked, distrusted ruler of a small, backward and frankly rather shabby little planet is distasteful to him. Hence his interest - let's be honest and call it an obsession - in finding Issius Treed and doing unpleasant things to him.
"So we're building an android to replace the Doctor's companion. When it's finished, we'll let the Doctor rescue it and fly off smug in the knowledge of another good deed done. In time the android will carefully broach the subject of Issius Treed, chat to the Doctor about him, and find out where he's hiding. And the android will pass the information back to us."
He eyed Jasmine closely, gauging her reaction.
"So now you know it all."
Jasmine leaned back loosely into her corner, eyes closed and head resting against the wall, assimilating this information. Slowly, unstoppably, a smile spread across her face, splitting inevitably into a huge grin of pure delight, and her dark eyes opened wide and the Master's unwavering observation was met with a gale of joyous, helpless laughter.
"That's a terrible plan!" she managed, almost choking. "Terrible! The Doctor won't be taken in by an android copy of me. He'll spot it in five minutes no matter how carefully it's programmed. Whose idea was this?"
"Mine," said the Master levelly.
She quelled herself for a moment at this, but the effort was too great and the laughter bubbled back up through her tightly compressed lips. Noisy now, high pitched, almost hysterical.
"You? You came up with this? You're supposed to be an archvillain! What were you thinking?"
The Master pursed his lips while she doubled over, breathless and still chortling. Then the corners of his mouth made the briefest twitch upwards.
"It's not one of my best, I admit. But you're neglecting one important factor."
Jasmine straightened, her laughter burning itself out. There was a sudden sense of weakness. Her limbs were trembling as if in a fever.
"Which is?" she prompted light-headedly.
"Which is," the Master said, smiling solely with his intense black eyes, "That I don't give a damn about Feigle or his need for revenge or his unrealistic fantasies of interplanetary conquest. You're quite right, the plan probably won't work, but that doesn't really signify because I very much doubt whether it will ever be put into action. Feigle trusted my advice and paid the scientists on this station a fortune to undertake the project. That's all that matters to me."
Jasmine swallowed, took a deep breath, and found herself sober again.
"So you're up to something more. You're using me, you're betraying Feigle, and you're out for yourself." She considered. "Yes, that sounds like the man I've heard stories about. What's the real plan?"
He gestured to the door.
"Come along with me, and I'll show you."
"You're not worried someone will notice I've gone?"
"Not really." He addressed the android. "Robot Jasmine?" It turned its head to face him in patient inquiry. "Please sit down in that corner. Draw your knees up to your chin and look miserable."
The machine did as it was told. Its forlorn, broken expression would have moved the stoniest of hearts.
"You see?" said the Master. "In this respect at least, it manages a creditable impression of you."
"But we'll be seen, won't we? There are security cameras everywhere."
"There aren't, actually. Not at the moment, anyway. I've advised Feigle that the Doctor is probably using them to spy on us, and it would be best to have them turned off."
"But what about when they come to take me for today's session in the lab?"
"There isn't one. Today's the day when you're supposed to be enjoying the torture program I'm supposed to have written, remember? The scientists have been given the day off and, as a result, so have you."
Jasmine felt something unwanted nagging at the back of her mind, and realised it was a flicker of admiration for this man and the sheer clockwork elegance of his scheming. She hastily shooed it away, reminding herself of what he was.
"So if there are no more objections..." the Master continued. He reopened the door with his remote control. "... We'll embark on our little expedition together. I flatter myself I still have one or two more surprises in store."