Doctor Who: The Twin Dilemma (3 page)

Slowly, the Doctor's agitated state receded and he climbed cautiously to his feet. The tattered remains of his coat removed, Peri watched the Time Lord as he inspected a rail of exotic garments. Suddenly she was filled with a feeling of euphoria -

everything would be absolutely fine.

But then how could she have known of the dangers and trouble still to come?

The empty TARDIS console room was silent but for the gentle purr of the oscillating time rotor. Several lights winked and blinked indicating, for once, the satisfactory running of the time-machine.

The room had taken on an air of quiet tranquility.

But this was not to last.

In the corridor outside the shrill voice of Peri was heard. 'You're not serious!'

The door of the console room was thrown open and the Doctor, appearing to have fully recovered, marched in followed by Peri.

The reason for the sudden outburst was the Doctor's choice of clothes. Now it can be said that the Doctor's taste had never been haute couture, but the jacket and trousers which he had decided suited his new persona should have warned Peri of something -

they were the choice of a maladjusted personality.

The jacket was long and not dissimilar in design to that worn by an Edwardian paterfamilius. That bit was fine. The main problem was that each panel of the coat was quite different in texture, design and colour. This wouldn't have mattered quite so much if the colours had blended, but they seemed to be cruelly, harshly, viciously at odds with each other. In fact, the coat was so gawdy it would have looked out of place on the back of a circus clown.

But that was only the beginning.

Protruding from the bottom of the jacket were a pair of black and yellow striped trousers, the hems of which rested on red spats, which in turn covered the tops of green shoes. The whole ensemble was finished off with a waistcoast which looked as though someone had been sick on. (For all Peri knew, someone had.) The final touch was a livid green watch chain that at some time must have been stolen from a public lavatory.

Peri continued to remonstrate with the Doctor, urging him to reconsider his clothes. At first he was simply dismissive, but then, for no apparent reason, his mood changed.

'Your name - Peri...' The word came out as though the Doctor had a nasty taste in his mouth. 'How did you get a name like that?'

Peri was scared. The Doctor's tone verged on being brutal. 'Well?'

he insisted.

'It's a diminutive of my proper name,' she stuttered. 'Perpugilliam.'

The Doctor smirked. 'Do you know what a Peri is?'

She shook her head.

'Of course not! Even if you did you wouldn't admit it... Would you?' The Doctor had started to shout. Peri was petrified. She couldn't make sense of what he was saying.

'As you won't tell me, I shall tell you. A Peri is a good and beautiful fairy in Persian mythology... The interesting thing is...

before it became good, it was eviir The Doctor snarled like some caricature mad professor. But Peri wasn't watching this performance in a theatre. This was real. There wasn't any way she could get out of the situation by simply covering her eyes and waiting for the scene to be over.

The Doctor started to move towards her. 'You are thoroughly evil,'

he ranted.

'Please, Doctor. This is no longer a joke.' Peri backed away. As she did, she noticed perched on the console the abandoned mirror the Doctor had used earlier to examine his new face. A weapon! she thought. Slowly Peri edged towards it, the Doctor following.

Peri couldn't make any sense of what was happening. Within an hour the Doctor had not only changed into another person, but had gone through fits of agonising pain, sunk to the depths of despair and was now threatening her. What else could happen? she thought.

As Peri edged along the console, she suddenly reached to grab the mirror, but the Doctor, now realising her intention, anticipated the move perfectly and savagely lashed out. Peri was lucky and managed to side step the attack. As she did, she snatched up the mirror, but not before the Doctor had leapt at her again, this time making contact. Winded, Peri crashed

to the floor, the mirror falling from her grasp. Instantly, like a wild, snarling animal, the Doctor was on top of her.

Peri screamed and thrashed about, praying one of her blows would make contact, but the Doctor was too strong for her. Slowly, deliberately he brought his hands to embrace her throat. On contact he drove his powerful thumbs into her windpipe and pressed firmly. Any hope that this was all a sick, hateful joke departed from her mind. The Doctor was going to kill her.

Now knowing she had only seconds to live, Peri felt wildly for the dropped mirror. As she did, she caught a glimpse of her attacker's face - the sight terrified her even more. The Doctor's expression was that of pleasure. He was actually having fun wasting her life.

Choking and coughing, Peri continued her frantic search. Her mouth had now involuntarily dropped open and her protruding tongue jerked backwards and forwards as though attempting to pump air down her restricted windpipe.

Suddenly her hand found the mirror and without pausing she immediately picked it up and started to smash it on the floor. / have to break it! I must have a sharp edge! I have to be able to hurt him, she screamed inside her head.

With all her strength she repeatedly struck the mirror on the floor, but it stubbornly refused to break. Peri felt consciousness slipping away from her. She knew that if she blacked out she was dead.

With a last enormous effort, she beat and pounded the mirror, but it still wouldn't shatter.

Peri was now consumed by panic and terror. She felt that she was about to slip into the bottomless pit of death and oblivion. Almost as though she were waving herself goodbye, her limbs started to jerk in spasms. A moment later she went limp.

The Doctor, now believing he had killed his victim, loosened his grip slightly. As he did, a terrible leer crossed his face and he started to lick his lips like a glutton who has just had a feast placed before him.

At the same moment, Peri half-opened an eye and saw the hateful delight on the Doctor's face. Summoning up the last shreds of her strength and energy, she held up the mirror so that the Time Lord could see his own expression.

The Doctor froze as he caught sight of his own gruesome image.

Then as though he had been savagely slapped across the face he let out a terrible scream at the same moment flinging himself away from Peri and the image in the mirror. On hands and knees, like a frantic, scared baby, the Time Lord quickly crawled across the room, wailing and howling as he went.

Peri lifted herself up onto one elbow, spluttering and coughing.

Once her lungs were fully ventilated she started to cry, as much at the pleasure of being alive as with the fear and anger of the assault that had just taken place. She watched the Doctor, as he reached the corner of the room, draw his knees up under his chin and then embrace his own legs. His eyes were like saucers - wild and staring. He was now silent. Then slowly, gently he started to rock backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, as though desperate to comfort himself.

Peri wondered how long he'd remain that way, and, more desperately, what he would do when he came out of his trance-like state.

Romulus and Remus sat before their respective computer terminals. On the screens before them were a maze of numbers, symbols and calculations. The children had been at play.

Outside it was raining, cold and unfriendly. Outside it was dark. If the twins had looked from their window they would have seen a wet, shabby ginger torn being rather possessive about a few badly-kept flower beds and an area of weed-ridden grass. At least that is what they thought they would have seen. But they would have been wrong. For in the cat's mind, he was fat, virile and sexy. The flower beds were his territory and he was very proud and very defensive of them.

Inside, in the warm, was the twins' world. They didn't know the cat existed. If they had, they would have paid him little attention. For in their minds they thought they knew everything about everything, and there was nothing a cat could teach them.

They, of course were wrong, for they didn't realise the cat could teach them survival. The ginger torn could quite easily enter their warm, comfortable world, survive, even have prospered. But the twins couldn't enter his. They would have died of hunger and exposure in a very short period of time. The cat knew this, he knew what the two geniuses didn't know. He also knew it was impossible to calculate the square root of minus three and that Professor Archie Sylvest had made a mistake. It didn't bother him and he wouldn't tell anyone. He had more important things to do - he had his flower beds to guard.

When the whole history of Earth is finally written, it will be shown that cats were the most intelligent creatures ever to have inhabited the planet. The fact they allowed human beings to run things for a while shows their tolerance. They knew the humans would cause havoc and fail, but the cats also knew they would be able to repair everything and make it right again.

In the middle of his favourite flower bed, the ginger torn looked up into the night sky. A thousand miles above his head was a space freighter that had even more secrets than him. To the man-made tracking devices of Earth the freighter was invisibile, as it was protected by a deflector screen. The cat also knew this in the same way he knew that someone from the freighter was being transported to Earth using a matter converter. The cat smiled. Soon the twins would know what he did, but they would never know that he knew it first!

In the cosiness of their bedroom, Romulus and Remus studied the screens of their computers. They were delighted with what they saw. Their calculations were perfect. What had started as a game had turned into a creation of pure genius.

The twins exchanged a glance of pleasure. They didn't need to say anything as they were aware how each other felt.

It was in this air of self-satisfied pleasure that an elderly man with a shiny bald pate materialised in the middle of the room. He wore a long brown smock and looked a bit like Father Christmas without a beard.

Amazed, the twins watched as the newly-formed imaged settled and became solid.

The old man smiled benevolently, but his sharp, alert eyes were quick to notice the computer screens. 'My name is Edgeworth, Professor Edgeworth,' he said, studying the screens and then nodding with approval and delight at what he saw. He even let out a fruity 'ho-ho-ho' to complement his near Father Christmas image.

'Brilliant!' he said, turning to the twins. 'Absolutely brilliant... A symphony of higher mathematics... I can only be in the company of Romulus and Remus Sylvest.'

'You are. And although you have told us your name, we still do not know who you are and what you are doing here.'

Professor Edgeworth chuckled. He realised he was slightly over-playing the Father Christmas image. 'I've come to pay my respects to your father. A man of great distinction...'

The twins exchanged a nervous glance. 'At this time of night?'

Remus' voice was slightly shrill.

'Yes, I must apologise for the lateness of the hour, but I've come a long way.' The words sounded hollow and Edgeworth knew it. He also knew he had to act quickly. It had been his idea to transport down from the freighter alone. He had wanted to avoid the excessive violence he knew a certain crew member of his crew so much enjoyed. But should he fail to take the twins back with him, he would be in a great deal of trouble.

'Look,' he said jovially, 'it seems I've come at a difficult time. Tell your father I will call on him again.'

Professor Edgeworth extended his hand towards Romulus who stared at it for a moment. 'Goodbye, my boy. It's been a pleasure and a privilege.'

Cautiously, Romulus took the proffered hand and shook it. As he did, a fine needle shot out from a ring Edgeworth was wearing and painlessly penetrated the palm of the boy's hand.

Edgeworth turned to the other twin and shook his hand. 'Goodbye, Remus.'

And again the needle did its work.

At first, nothing seemed to happen, then suddenly the twins'

expressions went quite blank as though their personalities had been drained from them. Edgeworth ordered the twins to show him their hands. This they did in a passive, unquestioning way. He then asked them where they were, and as hard as they tried, they couldn't remember.

Edgeworth smiled. The drug had worked perfectly. The twins were without conscious memory. When he got them back to the freighter, he would loosen the drug's control, but until then, it was safer that they remained zombie-like.

Edgeworth pulled back the sleeve of his smock and exposed a bracelet. He fiddled with it for a second then ordered the twins to grip his hands. This they did, and a second later the trio dematerialised, leaving a fine powdery deposit on the bedroom floor.

Outside, the ginger torn stood guard over his territory. He knew what had happened. He had sensed the freighter pull out of orbit and set a course for one of the bleakest areas in the universe. He knew all this, but would tell no-one.

The front door of twenty-five Lydall Street was closed with a loud slam. Standing in the hall was Professor Archie Sylvest. He was very drunk. The Voxnic had flowed like a cascading waterfall, but it had not been in the company of computer programmer Vestal Smith. It had been with a less satisfying companion - her husband.

In an attempt to placate him, Archie had persuaded Mr Smith to accompany him to his favourite Voxnic bar and discuss the reasons why he desired so much deep understanding from his wife. It had required what seemed like a lake of Voxnic to convince him that his relationship was platonic, innocent and perfectly reasonable.

Archie had no idea whether Mr Smith had believed him, but with the additional comfort of a hundred thousand dollar World Federation currency note, the Neanderthal husband of Vestal Smith had seemed happy to stagger off into the night, his dignity and pride supposedly restored.