Chapter Twelve

Boxed In

Across the spatial rift, the captive Doctor had sufficiently recovered his strength to go over his situation in his mind. The results were not something he cared to dwell on. Suddenly the colors around him started to swirl furiously and he braced himself as his abductor returned, taking the form of a dark spot that hovered ominously on the horizon.

"Social call?" the Doctor asked mildly.

Ormril responded with a growl. Even without knowing his identity the infuriating Time Lord had been able to maintain his advantage. The Doctor's habit of masking his true thoughts with flippancy made it impossible for his captor to read his mind. Ormril was trying to discover even the most basic computations the Doctor had used to create the gateway program. With the knowledge of inter-dimensional spatial theory in his possession, Ormril hoped he would be able to create the gateway on his own, thus releasing himself from captivity.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Doctor," the false god announced finally.

"We can't have that, now can we?" the Time Lord said mildly, catching his breath as a single stab of pain shot through him.

"You haven't once asked me to spare your life," Ormril went on to say.

"What's the point? You're going to kill me no matter what I say."

"Perhaps I'll spare you," his captor purred.

The Doctor gave an indignant snort. "I doubt it. You want something from me. And once you get it, I'm of no use to you."

"What could I possibly want from an insignificant worm like you?"

"I don't know. All I know is you've been trying to read my mind since I arrived."

"Trying?" the false god said in mock surprise. "I don't have to try to do anything."

"Yes, I know. You're the Lord and Master here," the Doctor said unenthusiastically.

The red glow returned in response to this, only this time its intensity was greatly diminished. No longer excruciating, the pain was more like a gnawing ache, allowing the captive Time Lord to respond with something more intelligible than a scream of agony. Not that he had anything to respond to. Ormril had launched into yet another tirade.

The Doctor groaned inwardly. Why must these megalomaniacs always make a speech? he thought wearily. "Yes, yes, that's all very interesting," he broke in sharply, "but what do you want from me? Aside from my life, that is?"

"Knowledge, Time Lord," Ormril stated flatly. "And I assure you, I have the power to take it from you."

The glow suddenly burned like fire and the Doctor cried out as the intensity of his pain in creased a hundred fold. He suddenly felt the alien presence clawing at his thoughts and concentrated to shut it out. Ormril simply responded by increasing the level of his pain, laughing sadistically as his prisoner let out a cry of anguish and struggled in vain against his bonds.

It was at this moment the mental contact from the Doctor's other self came through, and even though he was beyond sensing it, Ormril was not. The self-proclaimed deity was appalled when the powerful burst of mental energy suddenly invaded his domain and he immediately broke of the "interrogation" in order to concentrate on the disturbance, finding no trace of it. He cursed angrily, knowing he would have no other course but to methodically track it down.

The Doctor was just barely conscious when he was suddenly released from his torment and this left him completely unprepared for what came next. His bonds, along with the enormous web, abruptly vanished into thin air. He let out a small cry of alarm when he found himself plummeting through the endless black expanses of space, only to stop with gut wrenching suddenness when the thought entered his mind that in space he should be weightless.

Stunned, exhausted, and almost afraid to open his eyes, the Time Lord lay motionless on the apparently solid surface for nearly a minute before finally chancing a peek. Then he wished he had not. As far as he could tell, he was lying on an invisible barrier suspended over an enormous swirling abyss. "You had to look," he scolded with a groan. "You just had to look."

Slowly and painfully, the Doctor raised himself to his elbows. After a few minutes he managed to get to a partial sitting position, the whole time wondering what would come next. What came next were four walls, a ceiling, and a floor that formed themselves out of the swirl ing mass of colors and completely encased him. Heavy chains sprang from one wall, moving snakelike across the floor and attaching themselves to the startled Time Lord's wrists and ankles.

What followed was a deafening silence.

Now thoroughly confused, the Doctor struggled to sit up fully, wondering why his abductor had so suddenly abandoned him. Or if indeed he had abandoned him. Dismissing the latter assumption, he gave his prison a cursory glance before turning his attention to his bindings. He was about to pick the locks when he discovered, with a bit of a shock, that they were solid bands of metal. He had seen them snap closed when they attached themselves to him, yet there was no seam on them anywhere.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, the Doctor hauled himself to his feet and started to methodically search the walls. With any luck, he thought hopefully, he might be able to find some kind of hidden release mechanism. Or better still, an exit.