Post by Fitz Kreiner on May 16, 2012 20:43:27 GMT
Young Toraan laughed as he ran through the grass. The grass was long here, on this part of his father’s estate on the slopes of the mountain. The long red stalks reached Toraans stomach. At any time he could drop down and disappear into the meadow with barely a trace.
The burnt orange of the sky was starting to darken as the sun set, deep reds and purples mixing in to the sky, streaky purple tinted clouds wisped across the Eastern sky. Behind these clouds, one of the moons was rising; a strong silver crescent peeking from behind the strands. Below that lay the forest, the silver of the leaves reflecting the golden light of the sun, making the silver forests seem as though they were on fire.
To Toraan’s left, in the south, lay the great wastes; long sweeping dunes of sand which stretched as far as the eye, or at least Toraan’s eye, could see. Behind him, beyond his fathers’ house, lay the Capitol; the great domed city which seemed older than time itself to Toraan. Only once had he ventured in there, and that was to see his brother’s ceremony within the Academy. How he longed to see the Panopticon. The image that his brother had painted appealed to Toraan; the great open space that was far larger than it should have been inside the central edifice of the Capitol; so large that it even had clouds and his brother had told him that once he walked through it and it started to rain!
Toraan stopped and looked behind him, to see how far he’d come. The great size of the Capitol was still visible in the distance. It was always visible in the distance. Toraan couldn’t imagine life without being able to turn round and see it. His brother was in it, however. That was something which both made Toraan proud, but sad at the same time. His brother was so much older than he was; he never went out to play with Toraan, never ran through the long grass with him. He said that he had done before, with his friends, now they were all grown up and serious. They would graduate from the Academy at the end of the semester; their eighty five years of work paying off.
A voice caused Toraan to look down. His fathers’ house was sat on the lower slopes of the mountain and he could just see someone outside waving at him; his mother. Setting back off towards the house, Toraan ran in a long waving line, carving a faint mark in the long grass behind him. He imagined being on the Bow-Ships in the old time fighting the Great War, he had heard all the stories about from both his mother and brother. He had been frightened about the Great Vampires at first, but now they intrigued him. He wasn’t sure whether they were real or whether they actually were children’s stories. For Toraan, they fell into the same bracket as Grandfather Paradox, the Six-Fold-God, Omega and the Other.
By the time Toraan reached his fathers’ house he could feel his hearts beating faster, the long run pumping his blood faster. His hearts seemed to pump faster still when he saw the look on his mothers’ face, immediately he knew something was wrong.
“Toraan, come in please,” she said in her soft voice and taking him by the hand. “I’ve got a bit of news.”
Toraan was lead into the living room of the house where there was his father and three other people. He recognised two of them as his brothers’ two best friends; Thete, with his long fair hair and beakish nose looking hugely solemn and he appeared red eyed with dark bags under his eyes. The other was ‘Shas. Toraan always fell quiet whenever he saw her; he thought she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, so much so, he thought she was part angel. She was wearing another of her fitted rich red gowns, her long dark hair straighter than a Shabogans’ arrow, high and strong cheekbones with bright green eyes. Toraan recognised the third person as a Cardinal of the Academy, the Prydonian chapter to be precise, the same as Thete, but only by his robes. His face was unfamiliar.
“There’s been an incident, my dear,” his mother said softly. “I’m afraid your brother was involved.”
Toraan shot a look to his father; he was sat in his chair, still in his robes of office staring at the shadows as they encroached the mountain.
“This is Cardinal Borusa of the Academy,” his father said without turning or moving. “He was going to come tomorrow to inform us that your application to the Academy had been approved. He had to come today to inform us of what happened.”
Toraan looked from his father to the Cardinal, then to his mother and back to his father. “What-?” was all he could manage. He had a very strong feeling that something terrible had happened.
“I’m sorry,” Thete said stepping over and onto one knee before Toraan and placing a hand on his shoulder, “I’m really sorry but your brother has died. I was there, I’m so sorry, it was-”
“That’ll do my boy,” Borusa said cutting in.
“Mother?” Toraan asked looking up to his mother with tears in his eyes.
“My dear, I’m afraid it’s true,” his mother said. “Cardinal Borusa has shown us the info-stamps of his death. There’s a service for him tomorrow in the Academy Hall.”
Toraan looked at the assembled faces; they were all looking at his saddened, with the exception of his father who still stared out of the window. What was meant to be the greatest and most proud day of his life became the day his family were torn apart; Toraan was taken from his parents and his amazing older brother was taken from him.
*
Toms’ eyes snapped open. He was strapped into the alcove, whilst all around him he could see other alcoves, helpless souls strapped into each of them undergoing the same hideous transformation as he was. He couldn’t move far, or see wither side of him, his head being strapped into place.
As he looked out helplessly from his alcove, he saw two of the creatures move into his line of sight; their long, heavy, red robes obscuring their legs, their arms lost inside the folds of the robes. Their ceremonial collars sat heavily on their shoulders, their ornate skull caps atop their heads obscuring their hair. The two figures were assessing each new recruit as they passed. In their wake, two white and black robed figures followed, making minute adjustments to the machinery and each alcoves occupant. Finally, the last two figures disappeared from Toms’ sight.
A sound of time and space ripping asunder caused Tom to frantically search the room with his eyes, as a shape materialised before him. Within seconds, two figures emerged; a shortish man with swept back black hair and a widow’s peak and dark goatee beard, tinged with white. He was dressed all in black. He was accompanied by a woman, slender and blonde with glasses. The two figures approached him, his eyes just able to focus as they got nearer.
“He’s awake,” the woman said.
“So I see, my dear,” the man replied, glancing over the alcove before looking round the chamber, “and gaining consciousness by the minute as well. Mr Rowan, can you hear me?”
Tom felt connections fire in his brain as he took in the surroundings. The voice was clear and crystal, as though it were inside his head.
“My my, we do have some issues with them, don’t we?” the man continued, looking at the other figures around the room. “You really liken them to each other? Well, I suppose they have both left their mark on you in some form or another.”
“Wha-?” was all Tom could manage.
“Why don’t we get you out of this little nightmare?” the man said, reaching forward and disconnecting Tom from the alcove as he fell into the man’s’ arms.
*
Tom opened his eyes to see the Master crouched in front of him. With a sudden realisation, he remembered where he was; the cell in the Tower of London. He felt a wave of cold sweat wash over him when he realised that the Master had got into his head to wake him up.
“Wha-?” Tom started getting silenced immediately as the Master clamped a hand over his mouth.
“I think it’s best if we conduct this conversation like this,” the Master’s voice was clear in his head, despite the Master not moving his lips. “Just relax and concentrate. Think what you want to say.”
“What is it?” Tom asked mentally.
“I need your help. We don’t have much time,” the Master said.
“What is it?” Tom repeated. “I can’t do what you want unless you actually tell me what you’re up to for once.”
“All I want from you at the moment, Mr Rowan,” the Master replied, “is to be your usual, charming, sardonic self. I have the feeling that the four of us are to be taken to see Mr. Duncan today, and when we are, just be yourself. Goad him, lead him, do whatever you want short of engaging him in a fist fight.”
“What are you planning?” Tom asked. “Please tell me, for once, take me into your confidence.”
“And would you take me into yours?” the Master countered.
A fair point, Tom conceded in his head.
“Isn’t it just?” the Master replied with a slight smile. “You forget, Mr. Rowan, at the moment, I can hear every thought you have. And I’m aware that waking you like this is rather rude and intrusive, but for that I apologise. You have to understand that we cannot be heard to talk about this, I have the feeling that there’s someone outside listening, that’s why I had to do this.”
“Ok,” Tom replied. “Sorry, but you have to see this from my point of view. Our last meeting, you weren’t exactly,” Tom trailed off, trying very hard not to think about his first encounter with the Master.
“Please, don’t put those images in your head,” the Master almost shouted in Tom’s head, stepping back and breaking the mental contact. “I shouldn’t see those, or know about my own personal future.”
“I’m sorry,” Tom replied aloud. “It’s hard to not think about it. Would you not use future knowledge yourself?”
“We could get caught in a closed time loop, Mr. Rowan,” the Master replied. “You could give me some ideas which I use in the future, which you remember until now, when you inadvertently give those ideas to me to use in the future.”
“nuts,” Tom breathed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” the Master replied. “Ah, I believe we have company.”
Tom looked round as he heard the sound of the door unlocking and the shuffling of booted feet outside. Several seconds later the door was thrown open with a loud banging, stirring Kelly and the Brigadier from their sleep.
“What on Earth?” the Brigadier started.
“Mr. Duncan wants to see you,” the soldier replied.
Tom glanced over to the Master who shot him a knowing look.
“Would you all come with me, please?” the soldier continued.
Cautiously, the four occupants of the cell looked around at each other, the Brigadier and Kelly somewhat sleepily, the latter more so.
“Well, this is certainly the royal treatment compared to yesterday,” Tom replied after several seconds.
“Yes,” the soldier replied. “Mr. Duncan is apologetic about that. I believe that he wishes to apologise to you all in person. And, I believe that he has an offer to make you all.”
“You’re very well informed, private,” the Brigadier replied.
“This is what Mr. Duncan has told me, sir,” the soldier replied. “As I said, he wishes to talk to you in person. If you’d step this way?”
Cautiously, the four cellmates glanced at each other before following the soldier down the corridor.
*
James Duncan sat in his office reading through his pre-prepared speech. He didn’t have to learn it off by heart as he knew that the autocue would also be relaying the same words that he had on the well thumbed bits of paper. He still liked to read through to familiarise himself with what he was saying. Besides, he could throw in the adlibbed aside and still catch his place, taking a more relaxed attitude to the speech and not have to constantly stare down the camera.
He looked up as there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, resting the papers down and leaning back in his executive leather chair.
The door opened and Karen walked in, along with Sir Daniel Ashfield.
“Morning, Daniel,” Duncan said before looking over to his secretary. “Karen, I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning,” he added.
“I had some work to do that I didn’t get the chance to do yesterday, sir,” Karen said. “I thought I’d come in today and quietly get it done in the office, out of your way.”
“Well thank you,” Duncan said with a smile. “Always good to know my staff are willing to put in overtime. You’re not sneakily after a promotion are you?” Duncan added, raising an eyebrow.
“I would hope that if I were to get a promotion, it would be a reflection on my work, rather than my just turning up,” she replied from the doorway to the prefabricated office in the far end of the room.
“What can I do for you, Daniel?” Duncan asked, turning to Ashfield.
“I wanted to know something, sire,” Ashfield replied.
“And what is that?”
“May I?” Ashfield asked, indicating the chair on the other side of the desk and getting a nod in reply. “What I want to know, sir, is what are you going to offer Lethbridge-Stewart and Rowan to get them on side?”
Duncan smiled and leant back in his chair, pyramiding his fingers. “The girl is terrified. Last night she voiced her displeasure of this scenario to Rowan. It won’t take much to sway her. A full pardon of everything and the choice to have the job she desires will do it.”
“Can you do that, sir?” Ashfield asked.
“Of course I can,” Duncan smiled. “That way I can keep tabs on her. If someone crosses my path, I’m not going to ignore it. She’s allied herself with Rowan and the Master and tried to cross me. I may offer her a little something to get on line, but I’m not stupid enough to offer her what she wants and then think that that’s it with her.”
“I see your point, sir,” Ashfield replied.
“As for Lethbridge-Stewart, he’s an old man, set in his ways. He will be a hard nut to crack, but every man has his weak point. I believe he’s a married man, and rather old fashioned. Not that I’d ever dream of threatening his wife, but I believe that if we can reach a mutual agreement to leave each other alone, then I can’t see there being a problem. Times change and the man will just have to accept that.” Duncan sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk. “I’ve been told I have the gift of the gab,” he smiled. “I believe that I can talk him round.”
“Very well, sir,” Ashfield nodded. “I guess every man has his price. But what about Rowan and that Master scum?”
“Mr. Rowan could be a difficult case,” Duncan mused. “Before he crossed me, he travelled with the Doctor, whom I believe you’ve briefly met. Now, according to all reports, those who travel with the Doctor appear to follow his beliefs and seem to have that rather deeply engrained in them. They believe that they are fighting for a just cause. But they’re not infallible. All I have to do is convince him that he and I are fighting for the same cause. Every man has his price, as you say, and every man has a breaking point.
“Mr. Rowan believes that he is fighting the good fight, yet I happen to know that he and the Master have a history of bad blood. There is already a sense of mistrust amongst the two men; it shouldn’t take much to set them at each other’s throats. From what I’ve read of the reports from the incident back in September, the Master tried to kill Rowan. That sort of thing isn’t easy to get over I would imagine. To the Master, lies and deceit are second nature, and Rowan knows this. Whilst he may not totally trust me, a few choice words here and there could lead to his total distrust of the Master.”
“And what of that scum?” Ashfield asked, not bothering to disguise the sneer on his face.
“The Master and Kortath have a very bad blood between them,” Duncan said with a large smile. “I also know that Kortath believes that he is using me to regain his standing with the Ikthaari government.” Duncan leant forwards, his face serious and his eyes steely. “I do not like being used, Daniel,” he continued. “Once I’ve got all that I want from him, I intend to open my own links to the Ikthaari and do this whole thing properly. I have worked with Kortath for some time now; I know how to operate his communications technology. I plan to contact their home world personally.”
“That’s all very well, sir,” Ashfield said cautiously, “but what about the Master? I feel you’re straying from the point here.”
“I’m getting there, Daniel,” Duncan said, his face still set. “I plan to use the Master for my own means. The man wants power and dominion over this world, I know that. At worst, he wants to destroy us. But I know he has a vendetta with Kortath. I plan to help him settle that vendetta. I will explain the situation to him, as far as I want him to know. I know that the man cannot be trusted as far as he can be thrown, but I don’t imagine him to be short on resources.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Ashfield asked.
Duncan sat back with a smile. “I will appeal to the man’s ego. I will offer him what he wants, Kortath’s head. He plans to use me, so I shall play him at his own game. I shall offer Kortath the Master’s body to keep him on side, whilst I shall talk to the Master, offer him his freedom if he agrees to some terms; he supplies me with a duplicate body to fool Kortath, then I will offer the Master the opportunity to kill Kortath to appease his blood-lust.”
“It all sounds dangerous to me, sir,” Ashfield said.
“Not at all,” Duncan smiled, “the Master will be contained within the tower all the time and be under constant guard. Once he has rid me of Kortath, he himself will meet his end.”
The burnt orange of the sky was starting to darken as the sun set, deep reds and purples mixing in to the sky, streaky purple tinted clouds wisped across the Eastern sky. Behind these clouds, one of the moons was rising; a strong silver crescent peeking from behind the strands. Below that lay the forest, the silver of the leaves reflecting the golden light of the sun, making the silver forests seem as though they were on fire.
To Toraan’s left, in the south, lay the great wastes; long sweeping dunes of sand which stretched as far as the eye, or at least Toraan’s eye, could see. Behind him, beyond his fathers’ house, lay the Capitol; the great domed city which seemed older than time itself to Toraan. Only once had he ventured in there, and that was to see his brother’s ceremony within the Academy. How he longed to see the Panopticon. The image that his brother had painted appealed to Toraan; the great open space that was far larger than it should have been inside the central edifice of the Capitol; so large that it even had clouds and his brother had told him that once he walked through it and it started to rain!
Toraan stopped and looked behind him, to see how far he’d come. The great size of the Capitol was still visible in the distance. It was always visible in the distance. Toraan couldn’t imagine life without being able to turn round and see it. His brother was in it, however. That was something which both made Toraan proud, but sad at the same time. His brother was so much older than he was; he never went out to play with Toraan, never ran through the long grass with him. He said that he had done before, with his friends, now they were all grown up and serious. They would graduate from the Academy at the end of the semester; their eighty five years of work paying off.
A voice caused Toraan to look down. His fathers’ house was sat on the lower slopes of the mountain and he could just see someone outside waving at him; his mother. Setting back off towards the house, Toraan ran in a long waving line, carving a faint mark in the long grass behind him. He imagined being on the Bow-Ships in the old time fighting the Great War, he had heard all the stories about from both his mother and brother. He had been frightened about the Great Vampires at first, but now they intrigued him. He wasn’t sure whether they were real or whether they actually were children’s stories. For Toraan, they fell into the same bracket as Grandfather Paradox, the Six-Fold-God, Omega and the Other.
By the time Toraan reached his fathers’ house he could feel his hearts beating faster, the long run pumping his blood faster. His hearts seemed to pump faster still when he saw the look on his mothers’ face, immediately he knew something was wrong.
“Toraan, come in please,” she said in her soft voice and taking him by the hand. “I’ve got a bit of news.”
Toraan was lead into the living room of the house where there was his father and three other people. He recognised two of them as his brothers’ two best friends; Thete, with his long fair hair and beakish nose looking hugely solemn and he appeared red eyed with dark bags under his eyes. The other was ‘Shas. Toraan always fell quiet whenever he saw her; he thought she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, so much so, he thought she was part angel. She was wearing another of her fitted rich red gowns, her long dark hair straighter than a Shabogans’ arrow, high and strong cheekbones with bright green eyes. Toraan recognised the third person as a Cardinal of the Academy, the Prydonian chapter to be precise, the same as Thete, but only by his robes. His face was unfamiliar.
“There’s been an incident, my dear,” his mother said softly. “I’m afraid your brother was involved.”
Toraan shot a look to his father; he was sat in his chair, still in his robes of office staring at the shadows as they encroached the mountain.
“This is Cardinal Borusa of the Academy,” his father said without turning or moving. “He was going to come tomorrow to inform us that your application to the Academy had been approved. He had to come today to inform us of what happened.”
Toraan looked from his father to the Cardinal, then to his mother and back to his father. “What-?” was all he could manage. He had a very strong feeling that something terrible had happened.
“I’m sorry,” Thete said stepping over and onto one knee before Toraan and placing a hand on his shoulder, “I’m really sorry but your brother has died. I was there, I’m so sorry, it was-”
“That’ll do my boy,” Borusa said cutting in.
“Mother?” Toraan asked looking up to his mother with tears in his eyes.
“My dear, I’m afraid it’s true,” his mother said. “Cardinal Borusa has shown us the info-stamps of his death. There’s a service for him tomorrow in the Academy Hall.”
Toraan looked at the assembled faces; they were all looking at his saddened, with the exception of his father who still stared out of the window. What was meant to be the greatest and most proud day of his life became the day his family were torn apart; Toraan was taken from his parents and his amazing older brother was taken from him.
*
Toms’ eyes snapped open. He was strapped into the alcove, whilst all around him he could see other alcoves, helpless souls strapped into each of them undergoing the same hideous transformation as he was. He couldn’t move far, or see wither side of him, his head being strapped into place.
As he looked out helplessly from his alcove, he saw two of the creatures move into his line of sight; their long, heavy, red robes obscuring their legs, their arms lost inside the folds of the robes. Their ceremonial collars sat heavily on their shoulders, their ornate skull caps atop their heads obscuring their hair. The two figures were assessing each new recruit as they passed. In their wake, two white and black robed figures followed, making minute adjustments to the machinery and each alcoves occupant. Finally, the last two figures disappeared from Toms’ sight.
A sound of time and space ripping asunder caused Tom to frantically search the room with his eyes, as a shape materialised before him. Within seconds, two figures emerged; a shortish man with swept back black hair and a widow’s peak and dark goatee beard, tinged with white. He was dressed all in black. He was accompanied by a woman, slender and blonde with glasses. The two figures approached him, his eyes just able to focus as they got nearer.
“He’s awake,” the woman said.
“So I see, my dear,” the man replied, glancing over the alcove before looking round the chamber, “and gaining consciousness by the minute as well. Mr Rowan, can you hear me?”
Tom felt connections fire in his brain as he took in the surroundings. The voice was clear and crystal, as though it were inside his head.
“My my, we do have some issues with them, don’t we?” the man continued, looking at the other figures around the room. “You really liken them to each other? Well, I suppose they have both left their mark on you in some form or another.”
“Wha-?” was all Tom could manage.
“Why don’t we get you out of this little nightmare?” the man said, reaching forward and disconnecting Tom from the alcove as he fell into the man’s’ arms.
*
Tom opened his eyes to see the Master crouched in front of him. With a sudden realisation, he remembered where he was; the cell in the Tower of London. He felt a wave of cold sweat wash over him when he realised that the Master had got into his head to wake him up.
“Wha-?” Tom started getting silenced immediately as the Master clamped a hand over his mouth.
“I think it’s best if we conduct this conversation like this,” the Master’s voice was clear in his head, despite the Master not moving his lips. “Just relax and concentrate. Think what you want to say.”
“What is it?” Tom asked mentally.
“I need your help. We don’t have much time,” the Master said.
“What is it?” Tom repeated. “I can’t do what you want unless you actually tell me what you’re up to for once.”
“All I want from you at the moment, Mr Rowan,” the Master replied, “is to be your usual, charming, sardonic self. I have the feeling that the four of us are to be taken to see Mr. Duncan today, and when we are, just be yourself. Goad him, lead him, do whatever you want short of engaging him in a fist fight.”
“What are you planning?” Tom asked. “Please tell me, for once, take me into your confidence.”
“And would you take me into yours?” the Master countered.
A fair point, Tom conceded in his head.
“Isn’t it just?” the Master replied with a slight smile. “You forget, Mr. Rowan, at the moment, I can hear every thought you have. And I’m aware that waking you like this is rather rude and intrusive, but for that I apologise. You have to understand that we cannot be heard to talk about this, I have the feeling that there’s someone outside listening, that’s why I had to do this.”
“Ok,” Tom replied. “Sorry, but you have to see this from my point of view. Our last meeting, you weren’t exactly,” Tom trailed off, trying very hard not to think about his first encounter with the Master.
“Please, don’t put those images in your head,” the Master almost shouted in Tom’s head, stepping back and breaking the mental contact. “I shouldn’t see those, or know about my own personal future.”
“I’m sorry,” Tom replied aloud. “It’s hard to not think about it. Would you not use future knowledge yourself?”
“We could get caught in a closed time loop, Mr. Rowan,” the Master replied. “You could give me some ideas which I use in the future, which you remember until now, when you inadvertently give those ideas to me to use in the future.”
“nuts,” Tom breathed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” the Master replied. “Ah, I believe we have company.”
Tom looked round as he heard the sound of the door unlocking and the shuffling of booted feet outside. Several seconds later the door was thrown open with a loud banging, stirring Kelly and the Brigadier from their sleep.
“What on Earth?” the Brigadier started.
“Mr. Duncan wants to see you,” the soldier replied.
Tom glanced over to the Master who shot him a knowing look.
“Would you all come with me, please?” the soldier continued.
Cautiously, the four occupants of the cell looked around at each other, the Brigadier and Kelly somewhat sleepily, the latter more so.
“Well, this is certainly the royal treatment compared to yesterday,” Tom replied after several seconds.
“Yes,” the soldier replied. “Mr. Duncan is apologetic about that. I believe that he wishes to apologise to you all in person. And, I believe that he has an offer to make you all.”
“You’re very well informed, private,” the Brigadier replied.
“This is what Mr. Duncan has told me, sir,” the soldier replied. “As I said, he wishes to talk to you in person. If you’d step this way?”
Cautiously, the four cellmates glanced at each other before following the soldier down the corridor.
*
James Duncan sat in his office reading through his pre-prepared speech. He didn’t have to learn it off by heart as he knew that the autocue would also be relaying the same words that he had on the well thumbed bits of paper. He still liked to read through to familiarise himself with what he was saying. Besides, he could throw in the adlibbed aside and still catch his place, taking a more relaxed attitude to the speech and not have to constantly stare down the camera.
He looked up as there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, resting the papers down and leaning back in his executive leather chair.
The door opened and Karen walked in, along with Sir Daniel Ashfield.
“Morning, Daniel,” Duncan said before looking over to his secretary. “Karen, I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning,” he added.
“I had some work to do that I didn’t get the chance to do yesterday, sir,” Karen said. “I thought I’d come in today and quietly get it done in the office, out of your way.”
“Well thank you,” Duncan said with a smile. “Always good to know my staff are willing to put in overtime. You’re not sneakily after a promotion are you?” Duncan added, raising an eyebrow.
“I would hope that if I were to get a promotion, it would be a reflection on my work, rather than my just turning up,” she replied from the doorway to the prefabricated office in the far end of the room.
“What can I do for you, Daniel?” Duncan asked, turning to Ashfield.
“I wanted to know something, sire,” Ashfield replied.
“And what is that?”
“May I?” Ashfield asked, indicating the chair on the other side of the desk and getting a nod in reply. “What I want to know, sir, is what are you going to offer Lethbridge-Stewart and Rowan to get them on side?”
Duncan smiled and leant back in his chair, pyramiding his fingers. “The girl is terrified. Last night she voiced her displeasure of this scenario to Rowan. It won’t take much to sway her. A full pardon of everything and the choice to have the job she desires will do it.”
“Can you do that, sir?” Ashfield asked.
“Of course I can,” Duncan smiled. “That way I can keep tabs on her. If someone crosses my path, I’m not going to ignore it. She’s allied herself with Rowan and the Master and tried to cross me. I may offer her a little something to get on line, but I’m not stupid enough to offer her what she wants and then think that that’s it with her.”
“I see your point, sir,” Ashfield replied.
“As for Lethbridge-Stewart, he’s an old man, set in his ways. He will be a hard nut to crack, but every man has his weak point. I believe he’s a married man, and rather old fashioned. Not that I’d ever dream of threatening his wife, but I believe that if we can reach a mutual agreement to leave each other alone, then I can’t see there being a problem. Times change and the man will just have to accept that.” Duncan sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk. “I’ve been told I have the gift of the gab,” he smiled. “I believe that I can talk him round.”
“Very well, sir,” Ashfield nodded. “I guess every man has his price. But what about Rowan and that Master scum?”
“Mr. Rowan could be a difficult case,” Duncan mused. “Before he crossed me, he travelled with the Doctor, whom I believe you’ve briefly met. Now, according to all reports, those who travel with the Doctor appear to follow his beliefs and seem to have that rather deeply engrained in them. They believe that they are fighting for a just cause. But they’re not infallible. All I have to do is convince him that he and I are fighting for the same cause. Every man has his price, as you say, and every man has a breaking point.
“Mr. Rowan believes that he is fighting the good fight, yet I happen to know that he and the Master have a history of bad blood. There is already a sense of mistrust amongst the two men; it shouldn’t take much to set them at each other’s throats. From what I’ve read of the reports from the incident back in September, the Master tried to kill Rowan. That sort of thing isn’t easy to get over I would imagine. To the Master, lies and deceit are second nature, and Rowan knows this. Whilst he may not totally trust me, a few choice words here and there could lead to his total distrust of the Master.”
“And what of that scum?” Ashfield asked, not bothering to disguise the sneer on his face.
“The Master and Kortath have a very bad blood between them,” Duncan said with a large smile. “I also know that Kortath believes that he is using me to regain his standing with the Ikthaari government.” Duncan leant forwards, his face serious and his eyes steely. “I do not like being used, Daniel,” he continued. “Once I’ve got all that I want from him, I intend to open my own links to the Ikthaari and do this whole thing properly. I have worked with Kortath for some time now; I know how to operate his communications technology. I plan to contact their home world personally.”
“That’s all very well, sir,” Ashfield said cautiously, “but what about the Master? I feel you’re straying from the point here.”
“I’m getting there, Daniel,” Duncan said, his face still set. “I plan to use the Master for my own means. The man wants power and dominion over this world, I know that. At worst, he wants to destroy us. But I know he has a vendetta with Kortath. I plan to help him settle that vendetta. I will explain the situation to him, as far as I want him to know. I know that the man cannot be trusted as far as he can be thrown, but I don’t imagine him to be short on resources.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Ashfield asked.
Duncan sat back with a smile. “I will appeal to the man’s ego. I will offer him what he wants, Kortath’s head. He plans to use me, so I shall play him at his own game. I shall offer Kortath the Master’s body to keep him on side, whilst I shall talk to the Master, offer him his freedom if he agrees to some terms; he supplies me with a duplicate body to fool Kortath, then I will offer the Master the opportunity to kill Kortath to appease his blood-lust.”
“It all sounds dangerous to me, sir,” Ashfield said.
“Not at all,” Duncan smiled, “the Master will be contained within the tower all the time and be under constant guard. Once he has rid me of Kortath, he himself will meet his end.”