-Chapter 9-
Melody looked over at the robed figure, now muttering to himself, sprawled out on the floor at the other end of the room.
"Just saved your life, you know," she called back to the Doctor, at Canton's side.
"That's nice," the Doctor replied, unconcerned. He pulled back one of Canton's eyelids, looking closely. Then he pulled something metal with a green tip. He turned it on. Suddenly, thousands of tiny green lines erupted from the device. They reached out, touched everything, then plunged in to the Doctor's forehead. The Doctor frowned, looking at the device, then he closed his eyes and put his hand to Canton's sweaty forehead.
"The hell was that?" Melody asked, unnerved.
"Oh right," the Doctor smiled, "forgot you could see sound – well, hyper-sonic frequencies. Not usually a trait of my traveling companions. That was the sonic screwdriver. It tells me things – does little jobs. Funny thing, sou-" The Doctor was cut off by Canton's groaning.
"What did you do?" Canton asked, groggily.
"Your blood alcohol levels were staggering," the Doctor chided, "So I sonic-ed them back to biological norms – well, close enough. You're going to get a five-minute hangover in about two hours. Don't know why, but that's how it works. It will feel like your eyes are bleeding into your ears but it's an impermanent sensation." The Doctor picked up the empty bottle that laid beside the short, bewildered man.
"Really, Canton," the Doctor scolded, "first time on an alien world and you're smashed on slugs of –" the Doctor turned the empty bottle over as one drop dripped onto his index finger. He tasted it and stopped. "Gallifreyan wine," the Doctor said softly. Then he puckered and spat. "Horrid, horrid Gallifreyan wine. Like someone tried to make a cup of tea with compost chips and vinegar. Blagh." Was "Gallifreyan" a real word, Melody wondered, or a rubbish made-up one like "biological".
The Doctor stood and, for the first time, looked around at the poorly lit, black throne room. Black except for an exceedingly well lit golden chair in the center.
"We're in a throne room," Melody informed him.
"We're in the Half-King's throne room," the Doctor said, brow furrowed, "the quantum ghosts are … angry – and dense." Then he brightened, pulled Canton up, and dusted him up. "See? I told you to just follow the sequence of events. Works out great every time. One of the Twelve Laws of Time." He patted Canton on the back.
The last thirty seconds seemed to have taken a toll on Canton, Melody considered. It might have been the whiplash of forced sobriety. He was stunned, blinking. Shaking his head.
"Is he going to be alright?" Melody cocked her head and walked over to them.
"Most likely," the Doctor said, studying the man's face, "just give him a bit of time to adjust. Humans tend to be an adaptable bunch, but it's best not to rub in how much of a leg up we –"
"We?" a voice from across the room interrupted. Melody turned. Great, she should have hit him harder. The Doctor turned, surprised, as a black robed figure pulled himself up to a standing position and staggered towards him. He raised the hilt of his sword before realizing it was only the hilt, the blade shattered in Melody's haste. He made a disgusted look and tossed it over his shoulder.
"I'll say it again," the black robed figure drawled, "Hello, Sweetie. Like the new look?" The Doctor stared, dumbfounded and cocked his head.
"River?" the Doctor asked at last, a strange mixture of shock and annoyance."You're the Half-King?"
"Who's River?" Melody and the man in black robes asked simultaneously. The Doctor looked at Canton who seemed to have recovered from the sequence of events. He shook his head at the Doctor and mouthed something that Melody couldn't quite make out. The Doctor's eyes widened in shock.
"Master?" he said, squinting at the figure. The figure smiled a broad smiled that showed off too many teeth and twirled. "The Master," the Doctor whispered, awe saturating his voice and posture.
"I do love hearing you say my name," the Master said. There was something between these two, Melody was sure. She wasn't sure why the Doctor was so surprised. This man was obviously a total loon. "I notice you've made some changes since we saw each other last as well," the Master went on, closing the distance between he and the Doctor, "bit raggedy, don't you think?"
The black clad Master put a hand, now glowing, to the Doctor's scraggly-bearded cheek. It burned. Well, no, Melody realized, not burned. There was no smoke. It was like the beard dissolved into golden light. It was beautiful and unnerving in the moments before Melody realized it was exactly what happened when she died – regenerated. Was this man like them? Was he a Time Lord?
"That's better," the Master smirked to the dumbfounded Doctor, "mind you, with so much chin, I see why you would grow that rubbish thing. Last of my regeneration energy. You can thank me –"
"You died," the Doctor said, distantly, only partially to the man before him. "You forced the High Council of Gallifrey back into the Time War."
"Yes," the Master agreed, "and then I broke out again. Well, technically, Davros broke out. But I stowed away on a ship – well, I say stowed away – more like stole – well, more like destroyed and rode the wreckage. Believe me, if I had the makings of even a partially working ship, I wouldn't be here."
"You've been here for -" the Doctor said, looking over at Canton for help.
"Two decades," Canton broke in.
"You too?" the Doctor said with a yelp that might have been guilt.
"No," Canton shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Few months maybe. Got recruited into a holy war. Stepped through a magic door."
"Dalek Time Corridor?" The Doctor turned to the Master and squinted accusingly.
"What?" The Master retorted, not at all put off, "Can't you smell it on me?" Melody was just about done with this. The Doctor and the Master were standing all together too close to one another and hadn't they just popped in to grab Canton and find her family? This was the Half-King? Fine. Melody padded over to the TARDIS console on the cold iron floors. She was going to get her big stick and end this.
"Can we just get going?" Melody called back from the console.
"Does nothing stay buried?" the Doctor mused, totally ignoring Melody. Still quite inappropriately close to the other man's personal space. Melody looked pleadingly at Canton who shrugged, rolled his eyes, and walked over to where Melody was. They sat down against the TARDIS console and watched the drama unfold.
"Surprised?" the Master asked, splaying out his arms. The Doctor folded his own.
"More disappointed. For a moment there, I thought the Vinter had made it out of the Time War alive."
"No such luck I'm afraid," the Master tisked, "Though non-existence suits him better, I think. He wouldn't want to live in a version of reality with Gallifreyan wine this horrendous." From somewhere, the Master produced a bottle. He presented it to the Doctor, who didn't react. The Master shrugged and threw it up into the air. It landed with a brittle, wet shattering on the other side of the room.
"So it's just the Earth plan all over again? Landed on a planet. Decided to set yourself up as some petty monarch, building a new Gallifrey to take on the universe by -"
"Ugh, I wish. These bloody stupid two-headed … things. Can't pull off an industrial revolution to save their own skins – literally – it's actually sort of astounding. I felt like contacting the Guide about it, but I don't think anyone would want to read that entry. So I've had to improvise a bit..." The Master trailed off as he gestured to his own expansive thrown room.
"A utopia built on human suffering?" the Doctor glared accusingly. The Master looked taken aback.
"Oh Doctor, nothing so grand," he patted him on the shoulder consolingly, "though you were downright prescient with the last bit. Am I getting predictable?"
"You were always predictable," the Doctor said, his face hard.
"Can I hit him?" Melody called from where she and Canton sat. The Doctor turned and smiled, the stone vanishing in a second from his features.
"Later, if you're good," the Doctor said waving.
"Can I shoot him?" Canton asked, then turned to Melody smiling. Melody smiled back.
"Canton, you tease," the Master looked over with a look of mock-hurt. Then he turned back to the Doctor.
"Who's she?" he asked. "You said 'we'. She's not just another one of those human you acquire. Though I have to say, I like the balding one."
"I don't know if that's a compliment," the Doctor cocked his head.
"Oh, believe me," the Master smiled back, "it's the best kind of compliment. It means he gets to live."
"She's a Time Lord," the Doctor said, beginning to circle the Master.
"Oh don't tell me," the Master looked disgusted, "Romana took the little girl thing a bridge too far?"
"No," the Doctor responded, "she's a new one." The Master's eyebrow raised. He slapped the Doctor stomach.
"Doctor," the Master laughed, "you devil. You're repopulating Gallifrey – what? – one tawdry companion at a time? My oh my, was I wrong about you."
"She's not my – " the Doctor began then stopped. " Mine – she's not mine," he finished. The Master shrugged.
"As you say," he said and strolled over to the TARDIS console – to Melody. She tensed and went for her stick. The Master stopped, held out his hands,and gave Melody a calming look one might give a snarling pit bull.
"Now now," the Master cooed. "You can hit things. You've made that perfectly clear." He knelt beside her. Melody didn't like this man. He smelled of wine and death. But the Doctor wasn't reacting, just looked on closely.
"She was conceived in the TARDIS," the Doctor said, restrained. "Some Anglicans stole her, experimented on her, took her the rest of the way from her auspicious start."
"Towards what end?" the Master asked, distantly, some of the mania fading from his face. Melody really didn't like this -
"Killing me," the Doctor said, after a long pause. Melody stopped. What had he -
The Master fell over backwards, laughing.
"Oh my," the Master said, gasping for breath, "that's perfect. Dedicate all your time into fixing their messes and then they do the impossible, create the first in a new race of Time Lords - straight out of the legends of Gallifrey Fallen - all of this - to kill you." The Master collapsed into giggles.
"Did they not have my number?" he asked at last, pulling himself up and kneeling back at Melody's side. "I could have saved them considerable effort." The mania fled from his features once more his inspection continued.
"Except she's not just a Time Lord," the Doctor went on. Melody perked up, the implications of the Doctor's previous worlds still running through her head. "She's too strong. Too fast. And she can't stop regenerating. Sometimes she burns through a body in less than a day." So the Doctor had remembered parts of Melody's struggles in the clearing.
"You made a good decision bringing her to me," the Master recovered, looking into Melody's eyes entirely too deeply. "I am the universe's foremost expert in regenerative properties."
"That's just a stupid, made-up title," the Doctor shot back, tension cutting through his tone.
"So is 'The Doctor'," the Master smiled and looked into Melody's ears, holding back the frizzy growth of hair her body was currently sporting.
"When you regenerate," the Master asked, "does it hurt?" The coldness was gone with the mania from his face. There was a deep interest and intellect behind those strikingly blue eyes.
"Sometimes," Melody replied, almost unable to help herself. Canton, beside her, looked concerned, "it's like I'm tired. Like there's an ache behind my eyes." The Master nodded.
"Doctor," the Master began, standing up, "have you ever been to the planet Scadrial?"
"A few times," the Doctor replied, frowning. The Master eyes brightened.
"Really?" said the Master, "Before or after the Industrial Revolution? Now there was a planet that could transition in a space faring -"
"Before," the Doctor cut him off, not indulging.
"Well," the Master went on, "on Scadrial, there were these special people who could store things – strength, speed, health, youth, knowledge – to be recovered later. They would spend a few days weaker than usual, only to burn through the strength they had saved up all at once." Melody balked. The combat implications were –
"I'm aware," the Doctor said. "But she's not –"
"No," the Master nodded thoughtfully, agreeing, "but we're Time Lords, or close enough. We don't experience all of our moments linearly." The Doctor nodded. The Master went on.
"She isn't storing her strength, but I think she's burning the strength and speed – maybe even psychic ability – that she would ever potentially have in her lifetime."
"I'm going to die," Melody cut in, shocked. "I can't stop. This is just how -"
"You're not going to die," the Doctor looked over at her, concerned but hard. "Everyone dies, but not today, not now. Do you understand me, Melody Pond?" Canton put his hand on her shoulder, trying to look reassuring even though he no likely understood almost nothing of what had preceded. Melody empathized.
"He's right," the Master smiled, self-satisfied, "you're not going to die – or, rather, you have died. You've died dozens of times. And when Time Lords die..."
"We regenerate," Melody finished.
"See?" the Master smiled, and turned to the Doctor. "She's not dying. Just on the cutting edge of a rather good idea."
"But the limit -" the Doctor cut in.
"Doesn't apply," the Master chided. "It was an artificial construct to keep us in line. Rassilon didn't want us living forever – or Omega – take your pick."
"No," the Doctor muttered, "there was another." The Master shrugged.
"As you like," the Master agreed, "it took three-hundred and twenty-three regenerations to burn all that skulls and lightening nonsense out of my system. Since then, I've taken a rather different perspective onto the whole endeavor. Identity is such a limiting concept, isn't it? What body is that for you?"
"Eleven," the Doctor admitted. The Master balked and laughed.
"Really? You're just one lifetime away from hubris, humanity, and long-coats?"
"I happen to like mysel-"
"Oh please!" The Master said between giggles, "you hate yourself. You just know that a new bone structure and set of quirks won't do anything to change it. Really, Doctor."
"And what's your excuse?" the Doctor shot back.
"Oh," the Master sighed, "boredom – mostly – never thought I would miss the incessant drumming."
"So I'm fine?" Melody cut in.
"Well," the Master said, "if I had to guess. Whoever made you – they psychically reset some specifications in your hyper-thalmus. You're automatically burning through your strength and speed. If we work at it, I'm sure you can only do it when you want to. I'll have to look into the skill-set too."
"And what gives you the idea you'll be doing that?" the Doctor cut in.
"Oh," the Master turned to him, "I didn't think you'd mind – what with being dead and all?" From somewhere in his black flowing sleeves, he produced a silver instrument.
"A sonic screwdriver!" Miri balked and lunged for her stick. It was incinerated in a shrill yellow light.
"Oh, please," the Master drawled, "laser screwdriver. But I think the forty guards that have been on their way to my throne room since you arrived will be more than enough to dispose of you, my dear Doctor." There was a pounding at the door.
"Try to get at the TARDIS and I'll incinerate the girl. That goes for you too, Canton," the Master balked.
The Doctor just stared at – what was he staring at? Not her, Melody thought. Wasn't she in trouble? She followed the Doctor's line of sight to something she didn't understand.
"I'm afraid your guards don't matter," the Doctor said, with an edge that could slice through photons.
"Oh please," the Master responded, "of course they matter. They're going to kill you, weren't you listening. What are you – " he turned and paled.
"Oh," Canton said, turning, "I didn't know you were religious."
In the middle of the throne room, inches away from the Doctor, stood a stone angle, its eyes covered. Strange, Melody hadn't noticed that before.
"Oh you unbelievable idiot," the Doctor whispered, horrified "what have you wrought?"