Doctor Who: The Twin Dilemma (7 page)

'You must understand my need to get to the bottom of this business.'

How could she? The Doctor wasn't Sherlock Holmes, neither were they in Victorian London.

'Even as a child, my gift was well-developed. With the use of pure logic and observation I deduced where babies came from.'

Peri yawned, hoping it would distract the Doctor from his fantasy.

But if he noticed he didn't respond, continuing as though every word was true.

'My mother had always insisted that the stork brought babies, but living in a large city I found that difficult to believe, as the arrival of infants was frequent but the sighting of storks was very rare. In fact, it wasn't until the age of ten that I saw my first stork - and that was in a zoo!'

'So once and for all I decided to solve the mystery. Word had it that a baby was due next door, so I set about watching our neighbour's house. Apart from someone called a mid-wife, no-one else entered or left that dwelling until I heard the cry of a new-born babe.'

'No stork either, huh?'

'Not even a sparrow. Now it had not gone unnoticed by me that the mid-wife had arrived carrying a large satchel. She had no sooner entered the house than I had heard an infant crying. I therefore deduced that the mid-wife had brought the baby in her bag!'

A bemused smile spread across Peri's face. 'Brilliant. A very clever deduction for an unenlightened child ...' She paused. The look on the Doctor's face told her that she had said the wrong thing.

'So I was wrong on that occasion!' he shouted. T

couldn't help it if my idiot parents had refused to tell me the facts of life ...'

'But if you were mistaken once, you could be again.'

The Doctor had started to sulk. 'Rubbish! I have since perfected my method.'

Peri gave up. What could she say to a man, who in the space of a few hours, had played Jack the Ripper, wanted to be a hermit, and was now basing his personality on a fictional detective? To argue seemed pointless.

She knew it could prove very dangerous, especially as something else had occurred to her which made her feel rather sick.

Up until now the Doctor had played at being rather silly, if not pathetic characters. True, he had tried to kill Peri and in his remorse had taken her to a remote, barren planet, which she had no way of leaving alone. Under more normal circumstances any single one of these acts would be considered outrageous. But this was far from any ordinary situation - the perpetrator was a Time Lord.

It was this fact, until now, that Peri had overlooked. What the Doctor had done was nothing compared to what he was ultimately capable of. All it required was one wrong word at a critical moment and he might convince himself he wanted to dominate the universe. Should that occur, then nothing would be safe. The Doctor's knowledge and ablity to manipulate time made it possible for him to change or destroy everything.

But how was she to prevent it?

As Peri thought about the problem, the Doctor started to pace up and down again. Perhaps the simplest way, she considered, would be to play along with him. If the Doctor wanted to be Sherlock Holmes, she would be his Watson. By acting out his fantasy he might begin to trust her. When the Doctor next tried to swap his personality, she might be able to control or direct him. With a little luck, she might also, gradually, lead him back to his 'real' self whatever or whoever that should turn out to be.

At least she could try.

'What are you going to do?' asked Peri, tentatively.

'Solve the riddle, of course!' said the Doctor, rummaging in his pocket.

For a moment she thought he was looking for his Meersham.

'Have you seen my jellybabies?'

Peri shook her head.

'It's just that I think much better when I'm chewing.' The Doctor smiled awkwardly. 'Never mind, I'll have to do without them.'

'You still haven't said how you plan to solve the riddle whatever it is.'

'First, we must consider the facts,' said the Doctor, crossing to Hugo. ‘In spite of the fact that our young friend here has been shot down, he still has one other thought in his mind - the children.'

So far. Peri couldn't fault his logic.

'Now, let us assume he is here to find the children, and whoever has them, shoots him and the rest of his squadron down.'

Again, the Doctor's reasoning was sound.

Therefore, as Hugo crashed on this planet, one of two things could have happened. Number one: he was shot down while pursuing the abductor of the children. Number two: the abductor is based on this planet and destroyed the squadron as it approached.'

The Doctor crossed to the console and switched on the scanner-screen. 'I am inclined to believe that the villain is here on Titan Three.'

'How come?' said Peri, trying hard not to sound too much like the traditional, dumb sidekick of a fictional detective. 'You said yourself there wasn't any life here.'

'There wasn't... But things change.' The Doctor pointed at Hugo.

'He's here. And so are we.'

Peri didn't see the sense of the Time Lord's observation, but bit her tongue, determined not to comment.

‘I can see from your expression that you don't agree.'

'Not at all.' She sounded phoney and unconvincing.

'You're right to criticise. What I have just said contradicts my own methods. But when the villain of this particularly nasty piece of work could be anywhere in the universe, it sometimes pays to use one's intuition. Therefore, I suggest we start by checking Titan Three.'

Peri smiled, delighted to hear that the Doctor was once more making sense.

'And there we are!' he shouted excitedly, the index finger of his right hand, ridged and commanding, as it pointed at the screen.

Peri turned to look but could see nothing but the dust covered surface of the planet.

'There!' he shouted. 'That hump!'

Quickly, the Doctor operated the zoom and the area of interest was enlarged.

'Use your eyes,' he commanded. 'Look at that hump's symetry.

That's no part of nature's handiwork.'

Peri moved closer to the screen. He was right. Its shape was far too regular to have been created by the elements.

'Come on,' insisted the Doctor, as he opened the main door. 'That's where we're going!'

And without another word he was gone. Peri reluctantly followed, wondering why they were walking when they had the TARDIS.

But if she were to play his foil, his Watson, then she would have to learn to repress her own doubts and forebodings.

She only hoped she wouldn't live, or worse still, die regretting it.

Their test completed, Romulus and Remus had been taken to an area in the safe house where they could rest.

Lounging on comfortable couches, they examined the small, black spots created when Azmael had taken possession of their memories.

Although the drug had loosened its grip even further, there were still enormous gaps in their ability to remember, and it frightened the twins.

But what had frightened them even more was the appearance of Mestor. Never in the whole of their short lives had they seen anything quite so grotesque.

Mestor the Magnificent was nearly two metres tall. Everything about him was ugly even to other gastropods. Unlike the slugs found on Earth, Mestor stood upright, using his tail as a large foot.

To aid his balance, he had grown two small, spindly legs, so that when he walked it was necessary for him to gyrate his body from side to side.

The sight wasn't a beautiful one.

Such were the large rolls of fat that covered his body that everything wobbled as he moved. So instead of a neat, mincing gait, he appeared to undulate, like a large beached walrus, desperately struggling to regain the sea.

Apart from his legs, he had also grown two tiny arms and hands which resembled the forequarters of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. And as with that particular dinosaur, they served no useful function, except when he spoke. Then he would gesticulate with them, prodding the air to emphasis a special point.

His face, what there was of it, was humanoid in form. As he did not have a neck, head or shoulders, the features had grown where what would have been the underside of a normal slug's jaw. As though to add to the peculiarity of a gastropod with a human face, the features were covered in a thin membrane.

When Romulus and Remus had first caught sight of him, they thought he had swallowed someone and that the face of the victim was protruding through the skin covering his gullet.

For all we know, they could have been right.

If Mestor had simply been an enormous slug, content to nibble at the vegetation around him, then he would have proved to be nothing more than a curiosity capable of devouring forests.

But there was a little more to him than that.

Not only did he possess an intelligence that would have put to shame the finest brains on Earth, but also a desire to dominate those around him. And like all dictators, he was none too concerned how he achieved it.

Therefore he had kidnapped the twins.

Romulus and Remus Sylvest sat on their couches and contemplated on whether they had a future. If they were to stay alive, they reasoned, they would have to continue to cooperate, as it was only a matter of time before they were rescued.

At least, that's what they hoped.

The boys fell into silence as Drak entered the room carrying a tray of food. Gratefully they accepted the simple meal, devouring it greedily. They had forgotten how hungry they were.

If Archie and Nimo Sylvest had been present, they would not have believed the twins were their children. Gone were the arrogance and the overbearing desire to be the constant centre of attention.

They had even eaten their food without comment, unlike at home, when mealtimes became grotesque competitions about who could be the fastest or messiest eater.

Fear may not be the best regime to form and mould children's characters, but in the short time they had been Azmael's prisoners, Romulus and Remus Sylvest had grown up a great deal.

The only question was, would they remain alive to enjoy the benefit of that development?

Azmael yawned and stretched. For him, it too had been a hard day, but unlike the twins, he could not afford the luxury of sleep.

Instead he would have to be content with a brief sojourn in the revitalising modulator.

This is a machine not unlike a matter transporter, in as much as it breaks down the molecular structure of the body. Instead of then transporting it to a pre-set destination, the modulator bombards the atoms of the body with Ferrail rays. This induces a feeling of well being and contentment. Although no substitute for natural sleep, it does allow a person without time for sleep to continue working at maximum efficiency for a short period of time. Abuse of the machine can, of course, also induce death, as Professor Zarn, its inventor, found out.

Professor James Zarn enjoyed life very much. Although he was a gifted molecular engineer, his main interest was going to parties.

Inevitably on such occasions, he drank too much Voxnic, and as he went to parties seven nights a week, he lived with a permanent, mind-splitting hangover.

Awakening one morning and feeling particularly wretched, he decided it was time to do something about it. A man of his ability, he concluded, should be able to find a cure for the common hangover. Several weeks later he had built the first working revitalising modulator.

Much to his delight the machine not only massaged away his hangovers, but also revitalised him, allowing him to increase his party going. As he no longer lived by day with the permanent side-effects of Voxnic poisoning, his performance at work had also risen to new heights.

In the year 2310 AD he won the coveted Astral-Freed award for his contribution towards the eradication of space plague. Space plague was a particularly nasty disease carried by a tiny flea which lived exclusively in the hold of intergalactic balk freighters. It could leap, vertically, exactly one metre ninety, which by that year was the eye level of the average humanoid male.

No-one knew why it had evolved to leap that precise height, as no-one knew why it would then spit a fine, sticky substance into the eye of the chosen host.

But it did. And the effect was devastating.

As the flea's spittle entered the blood-stream, the victim would become relaxed, friendly and agreeable. He would stop arguing with his fellow crew members, preferring to co-exist affably.

Worse still, he would become indifferent to his bonus - the only reason anyone undertook the mind-numbing work in the first place

- preferring to coast along at his own relaxed pace.

Even worse than that, an infected person was unable to lie.

Therefore when his ship docked, he would willingly declare any illegal cargo being carried. Point out the deliberate errors in the manifest. Report the captain for any illegal moves or shortcuts he had taken that might have endangered life or his ship. In fact, tell the precise, literal truth.

As every established and developing planet depended upon intergalactic trade to survive, the 'truth tellers', or space plague victims, became more and more embarrassing to the authorities.

No-one wanted the enquiries the space plague victims provoked.

On the other hand, the authorities, if they were to maintain their own credibility, couldn't ignore reported illegal activity, and were forced to investigate every allegation. This often necessitated impounding the ship until the enquiry had finished.

It was not long before a sizeable portion of the balk freighter fleet was out of action.

Even those who had managed to keep flying found it difficult to crew their ships. No-one wanted the work unless they could engage in a little smuggling. Their desire wasn't to make a vast fortune, but simply to add a little excitement to the voyage. It was also a game every crew member and custom officer enjoyed.

Then along came Professor Zarn and his team. By developing a flea that could jump three metres, then releasing it aboard the infested freighters, he immediately solved the problem. As the super fleas bred with the ordinary ones, they produced offspring that naturally jumped higher. Those that didn't brain themselves on the ceiling were able to spit to their hearts' content at nothing in particular, being a good half metre above the head of the average humanoid. The plague was soon over and everything could return to how it was before.