11.
The Doctor smoothed his coat, finding yet another bit of boxwood caught in the pocket. He flicked it away and pulled out a black square, turning his attention back to the beige-dressed somewhat balding man that waited in the middle of his lab.
The Brigadier came in the room just as the phone rang. He reached out an arm and snagged it. "Lethbridge-Stewart… Look I don't care if it's the Prince of Wales you see in that room, you aren't to let them out! Right." He banged the receiver back down and pivoted to greet their visitor.
"Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart," the Doctor introduced with a nod between them. "Parole Officer Statz. The Brigadier is the one you need to be thanking, he's in charge of this facility and it was his man that detected your renegade."
The beige man's head bobbed towards him. "As I was telling your Doctor here, we greatly apologize for the inconvenience."
"What was that chap doing here in the first place is what I want to know," said the Brigadier. "And are there more of your kind about?"
Statz opened and shut his mouth like a fish, as if he weren't sure how to respond. The Doctor interrupted. "It appears Earth was chosen as a minimum security prison, if you will, but only recently. They understand now that is it not an acceptable dumping ground for criminals, no matter how seemingly harmless."
"I should expect so," snapped the Brigadier, his face impassive. "Now if you'll be so kind…"
"Of course, of course." He followed the Brigadier, who, along with Captain Yates, was overseeing the transference of their prisoner back into the hands of its own kind.
"Really, there was no need to be rude," the Doctor said when he returned. He was busy carefully aligning his little black squares again. "They're not all bad; near as I could tell, our troublemaking mimic was merely left here for gambling debts. I'd like to have learned more about the way they pick up mannerisms as well as the shape of what they're mimicking - though they're only a variety of imperfect polymorph."
"Imperfect," echoed the Brigadier with a snort. "Any tea left?"
"They seem to have a psychic connection to mimic and influence the people around them into accepting them the way they are," the Doctor continued as the Brigadier, finding himself ignored, went to check the level in the pot himself. "It makes up for the imperfection of the copy."
"What did he want here anyway?" The Brigadier upended the pot, gaining only a dribble of tea.
"Oh, he got what he was after." The Doctor held up the black square with its light on it. "Something he could both track his own parole officer with and signal his former cronies that he was ready to bargain again. Near as I can ascertain, he was in the process of stealing the sentry's pistol prior to breaking in. Of course, we ended up carrying him right inside which must have simplified things. No doubt he used that minor psychic influence on that sentry as well, then."
"He thought he'd fallen asleep on his feet, poor chap," Benton noted from where he sat on the lab sofa, gratefully sipping from a small mug. Jo was half-propped up at the other end, a small plate of sponge-and-jam in her limp hand and her head back, sound asleep.
"Oh yes, it seems to have been relatively benign, merely a push into the initial levels of sleep, such as a hypnotist might achieve."
"I thought he seemed hypnotized. In fact, I was afraid it was…you know who."
The Doctor raised his brows at this and rubbed his chin. "Ah. Well, I suppose no one can blame you for that."
"Still sorry I shot you, though. Won't do it again."
"Not if you can help it, hm? Yes, I hope so as well."
--- fin ---