"I haven't checked the dates exactly," the Master said. "But I believe this all took place about three or four weeks ago. That's in absolute time of course. In relative Tardis time we are going back years, well before your arrival, to a period that was not a happy one in either the Doctor's life or mine..."
--------------------
The Master prowled the Tardis, eyes fixed on the floor, his steps taking him instinctively along passageways which were now becoming familiar to him. He held his hand up in front of him, palm down, flexed the fingers and watched skin and flesh slide over bone and tendon. A pretty piece of work, but not real. As if he could see right through this synthetic covering, he was aware of the metal and plastic which formed his hand now. His real body, his last body that is, was dead. Poisoned by a cretin not fit to lick his shoes. Hidden away and forgotten in cold storage in some distant corner of the ship.
This had been what he wanted, he reflected. An ageless mechanical body, impervious to disease, free of the need for food, drink or oxygen. Immune to poison too, come to think of it. But that had been before things went awry, and in return for extended life he had been forced to make with the Doctor whatever the opposite was of a deal with the Devil.
And then there was the Doctor. The transfer of the Master's consciousness into the Hergan Anthropos had given him a project to work on, something to keep his mind occupied, and he had worked with a single-mindedness bordering on desperation, always sharp, always businesslike, never pausing for rest or sleep. But now the job was done, and...
He pushed open a door into a living area just along the corridor from the console room and was immediately assailed by a musty staleness like the air of an unsealed tomb. He squinted, trying to penetrate the almost total darkness, musing on the possibility of fitting his mechanical eyeballs with an infra-red facility, and made out the Doctor's crumpled form sitting slumped in a chair at the very centre of the room.
A clink drew the Master's attention to the near empty glass lolling in the Doctor's fingers, and the decanter on the table at his elbow. He sighed lightly.
"Well, I see you've been occupying your afternoon in a productive manner. Would you care to round off the day with a discussion of mesomorphic refraction and its potential applications in kratistic field manipulation, or perhaps a game of six dimensional chess?"
The Doctor stirred, his loose limbs barely shifting against the material of the chair.
"Leave me alone," came his toneless, whispered response. The glass fell over and its contents leaked out onto the table.
"I see." The Master bridled a little, still unused to having to accept such disrespect. "And may I be permitted to know the reason for today's little binge?"
No response, and he took a step nearer, so he could almost make out the Doctor's shadowed features.
"Come along, Doctor. I won't pretend to be concerned for your wellbeing but you're becoming such tedious company."
The Doctor's head lowered and he muttered an answer.
"If you must know it's her birthday today."
"Oh, I see." Without further delay the Master turned his back and headed for the exit. "In that case I hope you won't mind if I leave you to it. Your grouchy days are trial enough, I draw the line at the maudlin ones. I'll let you wallow in peace."
Alone again, the Doctor sank down deeper into his chair, pressed thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes, released a ragged, painful breath, and held on.
The Master wandered into the console room and idly switched on the monitor. To his lack of surprise, the Tardis had somehow wandered back yet again to within a thousand miles of the planet Earth and he wondered if there was some trace remaining in the navigational circuits of the programming by which the Time Lords had trapped the machine there. The Doctor of course, in his more lucid moments, would claim that it simply liked the planet. For a moment he looked out at the undeniably pretty bright blues and greens under the swirling white cloud formations. Then a fresh focus sharpened his features.
There was something there. Not of Earth manufacture. A silver disc gliding in low orbit over the planet's surface. Probably an alien craft conducting a routine survey of outlying planets. The Master watched, and a smile twitched on his lips at the foolish, irresponsible idea which occurred to him.
It was one of those ideas which started as a joke, something to play with in his mind, but then it clung on, and when he worked his way around it, thinking through all the ramifications and possible outcomes it started to make more and more sense.
His dark, gleaming eyes never shifting from the alien craft, the Master leaned back against the console, folded his arms, and showed his teeth in a low chuckle of black intent.
--------------------
Alison had been listening closely to the story.
"So it was you."
"Indeed. But with the best possible motives. I was trying to cheer him up."
She shook her heard in disbelief.
"Cheer him up?"
"Certainly. You know what he's like, never happier than when there are mysteries to solve, monsters to fight, lives to save. So in the absence of any imminent threat to the lives, property or legal rights of the innocent I simply manufactured one. All for the greater good, you see."
"For his good, maybe. Not for the people on the ground, or whoever was on that ship."
"Granted. But, you see, I'd imagined that the Doctor would resolve the situation in short order without anyone being killed or even having their schedules unduly disrupted. That was my miscalculation."
"He didn't help?"
The Master smiled softly at the hostile scepticism on Alison's face, and went on with the story.
--------------------
Even from the black hole into which his mind was sinking, the Doctor could sense the change in the Tardis' status. He rolled his head back against the rest, closed his eyes and called out:
"What are you doing out there? What's going on?"
No answer. He waited a moment longer then with a bitter sigh levered himself up out of his chair. His appearance was no longer immaculate as it had been in happier times. His embroidered waistcoats, silky colourful shirts and ornate tiepins were gone and he wore a plain white shirt with a thin black tie knotted loosely about the collar. He stooped to retrieve his old coat from where he had dropped it on the floor, then trailed it along behind him as he plodded wearily to the console room.
The time rotor was still. The ship had landed. In his sluggish state it took the Doctor a moment to realise the doors had been left standing wide open. Of the Master there was no sign.
"Where've you gone? You've left the doors open, what are you playing at?"
He stood there for a second, his voice lost in the silence. Shaking his head in annoyance he walked towards the console where his attention was caught by a flashing red light. He leaned forward to read a display, disinterestedly at first, then with closer attention.
"Omicron particles?" he muttered. He placed his palms on the console top and leaned heavily forward, head hanging down. "Oh, please. Not now."
With an effort he straightened, and at a sullen, dragging pace walked over to the doors. He blinked at the sunlight that struck his face and looked out at the green trees, the blue sky, the rolling hills.
"Earth?" His face cleared a little, then an instant later clouded again. With clumsy movements he started to pull on his coat. "Right, let's get it over with."
He took a step forward, then remembered to check the scanners for signs of danger first. Shambling back to the console, his hands moved slowly but with the assurance of long familiarity across the instruments. All seemed to satisfy him, until he was almost done, and then...
He whipped his hand back from the control as if had been a scorpion. Wild-eyed he span to stare at the pastoral scene outside as if it concealed some nameless horror beyond all imagining. His glance flicked down to the readout, then back to the exit, and then with fumbling, shaking fingers he slammed home the lever to shut the doors and, before they had even fully closed, engaged the main drive. He set the coordinates for the far side of the galaxy.
--------------------
"And that," the Master concluded, "Is why the situation I created remains in its present unresolved condition."
"He just left?" Lost and bewildered, not thinking to doubt the truth of the tale, Alison cast about for some sense behind it. "Why would he do that?"
The Master smiled, and shrugged.
"I've really no idea. You could ask him, but in all honesty I don't think he remembers."