"Are your plans always this terrible?" The Master asks the Doctor scornfully.
"Well I usually just sort of make it up as I go along," The Doctor defends, offended.
"Yes," The Master says, with a condescending smile, "I know,"
They're interrupted by a thumping down the hallway, as Jack runs around the corner and stops, jacket fluttering around him. The Master grits his teeth at the wrongness the immortal exudes, and beats his hunger down a little more. He's not in the habit of being nice, but sometimes it pays to be patient.
"Ready?" Jack asks, with a cocky grin.
"Yes," The Doctor answers, and then as Jack turns, "Don't do anything stupid!"
"Who me?" Jack asks, and then sweeps away.
The Master waits a while, leaning against the wall while the Doctor sits and broods like a mother hen. Then, just when Jack should be knocking on the door, he speaks.
"You did consider that that thing could eat him," He says, conversationally. The Doctor looks at him with a serious expression, and tilts his chin down, which means he's thought of it.
"Jack can take care of himself." The Doctor says tersely.
"Touching." The Master replies. "Well, it'd be no great loss, anyway."
"He is helping you," The Doctor murmurs, focusing on the corner on which he is hoping Jack will bring their target. Most of the concentration, the Master thinks, is very forced.
"No, I don't think so," The Master snaps back, "He's helping your other little freak friend, and anything he does that may help me is just unfortunate."
There's a pause while the Doctor gives him a sidelong look.
"Well," He begins, drawing out the word, "you never exactly adhered to the whole 'it's the thought that counts', did you?" The Master smiles wryly.
"Hmph, not at all," He answers. The Doctor raises his eyebrows and continues his vigil. The Master inhales deeply as he feels Jack come closer.
Now that he is done running around and using up his remaining energy, he can feel time settling down into his veins. He's felt it before: at the end of his normal set of regenerations, when he'd become desperate. Instead of just being within his notice, time has joined him, drawn up close in his veins, and he can feel it, beside the immortal. Not the fixed point in time, not at all, but a thing beside it of potential. Scorching, flowing and ebbing potential.
He closes his eyes and shudders.
"What is it?" The Doctor asks, just as Jack turns the corner. The Master opens his eyes and turns his head just in time to meet the eyes of the thing masquerading as Shaun Temple.
"What do you want?" Temple asks, in what the Master deems and utterly human tone. Jack's attention flits fitfully between the Doctor, the Master, and Temple. The Master smiles slowly and is rewarded with a look of contempt.
"You're a Star Eater," The Doctor says, and Temple tenses.
"Leave me alone," He pleads. The Doctor searches his face for a moment, and then glances at the Master, who brings his chin down and keeps his face expressionless.
"You said you could help Donna," The Doctor starts, and then nods at the Master, "and him."
"I need power," Temple says, swallowing, "especially for him." The Master chuckles.
"Well," He interjects softly, "I've never been afraid of a little power."
"How long will it take?" The Doctor asks.
"Give me a sun," Temple replies, and eyes Jack sideways. "I'm starving."
"Easy, boy," Jack says, after noticing the glance. "You're not getting any of this."
"How unusual," The Master remarks, but Jack ignores him. He considers that, partaking of immortal flesh. The energy surging underneath Jack's skin, at least, is appetizing, even if the broken edges of time around him would spoil the meal.
"I can do that," The Doctor says slowly, "but Donna can't see me. She can't see where she's going. She has to sleep." The Master finds it interesting that immediately Temple's body posture goes from passive to defensive.
"I'll take care of her," Temple says.
"Alright," The Doctor agrees, looking surprised at so easy an admission. "Meet us outside the building." Temple nods, and with an uneasy glance around at the company, leaves.
"That's it?" Jack asks, after watching him go.
"You don't always have to fight to get what you want." The Doctor admonishes, with so much childish assurance, that it makes the Master queasy. Jack makes a dubious noise.
"Not everyone has your charm, Doc," Jack answers.
"No, that would be disastrous, " The Master agrees, and then smiles politely. "Are you staying, Captain? I was looking for a good snack." Jack looks straight at the Doctor.
"If you want my advice," The American says, "push him into the vortex." The Master is pleased to see a mulish expression slide into place on the Doctor's face.
"You'd better go," The Doctor tells Jack.
"Oh believe me," Jack replies, with a nasty streak in his tone, "I'll be glad to leave where I'm not wanted. Just get that thing off this planet."
"I will," The Doctor promises. Jack looks at the Master.
"And your Star Eater," Jack adds, and strides away without goodbye. The Master struggles off his wall and studies the Doctor.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're rude?" The Master asks. The Doctor is silent for a while, watching Jack leave. There is something like regret in his brown eyes, and the Master resists the urge to say something crude.
"All the time," The Doctor answers, and motions for the Master to go first. The Master waits a moment, watching the Doctor serenely as energy slips around his failing grasp and forces him to his knees. The Doctor is immediately beside him out of concern, but the Master simply gets up as soon as he is able, deliberately shrugging off the Doctor.
His life is ticking away at its last moments, and the Master can feel it as sharply and clearly as he heard the drums. It is, of course, not nearly as overwhelming, but it does not fade. Days, he told the Doctor, but that was just clinging to survive- he would probably start to lose physical functions in about twelve hours, and slip into a coma another twenty-four after that. Already his hearts were skipping beats and almost all of his vital organs were performing sluggishly at best. The part of him that usually contained regeneration energy was leeching energy from his working body instead of maintaining it.
Still, he'd done worse.
"I wonder why it hid," He says, conversationally, once they're out of doors again, standing not far from the TARDIS. "It could have easily wiped these idiots off the planet."
"Perhaps it didn't want to kill," The Doctor says, in a disgustingly moralistic tone. Even his posture is condescending, looking down his sharp nose at the Master, who sneers.
"What, you're taking the moral high ground, even after all that?" The Master prods. He ignores the flash of hurt in the Doctor's gaze and continues. "No, it was hiding, from something." He looks pointedly at the Doctor. "Someone."
"Scared enough to take the chance traveling through the Rift," The Doctor muses, catching the Master's drift. "I wonder what he meant by 'never trust a Time Lord'..."
"Ha!" The Master says sharply, "Name a Time Lord you could trust."
"Hm," The Doctor concedes, with a nod, "Good point."
Their conversation ends as they hear the door slide open and Temple appears, holding an unconscious Donna in his arms.
"Ah, there you are," The Doctor says cheerfully, dropping his seriousness instantaneously. "Come on, this is my ship, here," He takes a quick overview of Donna, and then nods back to where the TARDIS stands in the alley. Temple hesitates, which the Master catches because he is watching, and the Doctor does not, because he has already turned his back. The Master considers actively stirring up trouble, but changes his mind, both because he is relying on the Star Eater to heal him before then and because breathing is starting to become more of a conscious effort.
"This is it?" Temple asks, tightening his grip on Donna.
"Oh, she's better than she looks!" The Doctor replies, trying to create trust with his smile, which makes the Master feel a bit sorry for him. The Doctor opens the door and gestures Temple in, who enters hesitantly. The Master follows soon after, but not before he's exchanged a look with the Doctor.
As soon as he is inside, he slips out of the way of Temple, who slams the door shut before the Doctor can come in. The Master, who reacted solely on instinct and reaction, furrows his eyebrows.
"What are you doing?" He has time to ask, before Temple turns and looks at him.
"You can fly this TARDIS?" Temple asks, voice devoid of emotion. All of his body language from before: the hesitation, the fear, and anger, has vanished. The Master rubs his fingers together, lets the energy crackle and spit, and momentarily considers violence. He drops it when he realizes he has tremors in his fingers.
"What do you want?" He asks, even as the Doctor starts banging on the door. In a few seconds, he'll find his key anyway, but the Master is intrigued.
"Take me to a star," Temple says, and then cocks his head to the left. The emotion flickers back onto his face, but only for a moment, and the Master narrows his eyes, trying to puzzle the shapeshifter out. "I will heal you, and I will heal Donna, and then we will talk."
"Good," The Master says, with a slow grin spreading on his face. He reaches over to the door and activates the deadlock. There is a small scraping noise as the Doctor tries his key.
"MASTER!" The Doctor yells, "Master, LET ME IN!"
"Doctor!" The Master replies, not taking his eyes off the Star Eater. The banging on the door stops. "Be sure to make your pets ready for my return."
"Master!" The Doctor pleads, "Don't do this!"
The Master ignores him, steps over Donna's prone form, and surveys the controls with an eagerness he doesn't bother to hide. So, the Star Eater is ready for a meal? He runs his hands over the controls, and feels his own eyes light up. Oh, but he's missed having a TARDIS.
"How about," The Master says, mostly to himself, "something in the Allison galaxy?" Temple watches him with dark, expressionless eyes. The Master licks his bottom lip, grins as he waggles his eyebrows at the shapeshifter, and then throws a lever. He doesn't handle the rattling trip as well as he likes, and the mental connection with the TARDIS is full of disapproving admonishments, but he feels more alive anyway.
His plans, after all, are always better than the Doctor's.
o0o0o0o0o
It just seems like when the Doctor makes stuff up, you can tell it's slapdash. The Master always makes it seem like he has a contingency plan for everything, and isn't it convenient that these things happen?
Well, anyway, we're moving right along.